The mooring fixture made a nauseatingly grating sound as the Pendragon came to a halt and the pressure was released from the airlock. Dr. Teresa Martinez stood in front of it, bristling slightly as the sound of metal against metal caused major goosebumps. She gave her assistant, Dr. Adrian Wight, a wary look by her side as the airlock opened and the two of them stepped outside, followed by a woman with auburn hair that was hardly remarkable and only stood out due to the fact that she wasn't wearing anything formal, like Martinez and Wight were.
The trio moved into the station proper, leaving their ship behind. Martinez was quite sure that they needed to wait somewhere accessible so that the Brigands they were supposed to meet could take them to where they needed to be. She had heard of Planet Marne, though she had never seen it, much less been there. It would be exciting to say the least. She flexed the hand that held the briefcase on her right slightly, trying to suppress some of the building anticipation. They reached the main deck of the Freeport, a ramshackled place full of lowlife degenerates, though she guessed this was as public as it could get. There were some shops and restaurants strewn about the place, though it was immediately evident that they were on a space station. Seeing no other alternative, Martinez signalled for the others to follow her to a rundown café where they could wait and preferably spend as little credits as possible. Before they sat down, she sent a message to the contact she had been given by Rousseau, transmitting their location so they could be picked up.
Only a short while after the arrival of the first party, a second ship arrived in the main hanger of Freeport 6 and it was rather denotable as being owned by pirates, or at least those to be considered less reputable members of society. The ship is covered in various different markings and artwork done in a graffiti style, some of it was actually quite good which is the last thing you'd expect from a collection of lowlifes. As the ship touched down its wings were clamped in place by the station ensuring its immobility and safety within the hanger.
Shortly after its touch down, a small party began to make their way down onto the landing pad. There were four of them in total, two decked out in armour that looking strikingly riot gear, minus the helmets, and wielding long and expensive rifles, clearly not of Gallic origin. Meanwhile the other two individuals carried small side arms attached to their belts. "You two - behind me." One of the men quickly snapped at his henchmen. The group slowly began making their way through the station to the location that had been provided. After a few turns and corners they were in a large open area filled with an annoyingly large amount of people. The group took a moment to look for any individuals that looked like those they were after, but were seemingly unable to locate the café they'd been directed to.
"Hmm. One moment." The leader of the four suddenly stated before proceeding to pull out a comm-tool and typing a message away and sending it off.
'We can't really see it, where abouts' is this place?'
They had spent about half an hour sequestered away in comfortable semi-solitude. Still, the ambience wasn't really the most inviting when it came to helping appetite, and so the three had settled for getting simple coffee instead. The beeping of Martinez' PDA marked the incoming message of their entourage. "They appear to have gotten lost," Martinez commented wryly and stood up, followed by the others.
It wasn't particularly hard to make out who they were supposed to meet, since the Brigands effectively were the only people who looked around as if they didn't know where to go. "Gentlemen," Martinez called out as her group approached the waiting men that were armed to the teeth. "I believe you are looking for us?"
The individual in the centre stood forward, bring the attention towards him. Upon a closer inspection the wide array of intricate patterns on his arms and face became blatantly visible. He quickly asked in a rather serious tone, "Are you Doctor Martinez?"
"Yes," Martinez answered, figuring it was not a good idea to use too complicated words and get straight to the point. She didn't know how hollow the head of this one was, though the tattoos gave some indication. "These are my..." she trailed off as she looked at the woman with slightly curled, auburn hair that had accopnied them. She hadn' spoken a single word yet. "Assisants," she finished.
"I... See," the leader replied. "Well. Let me introduce myself then, I guess. My name is Zero, right hand man of Rousseau." Everything about this guys tone changed during his introduction, clearly taking a certain amount of pride in his title. "These are my henchmen." He added gesturing at his bodyguards but quickly amended his statement, "Their names are not important, my pilot is waiting back at the ship, if you are ready to depart Doctor."
"Quite so," she replied, looking up at this 'Zero'. The name was so seedy, she could swear she could spit bits of it out by merely speaking it, but she remained quiet. She also wondered whether these men would search them for weapons and the likes, though wasn't going to ask either.
Martinez beckoned for Adrian and the woman to follow, and together, they would make their way back to these guys' ship. To not remain in too uncomfortable a silence, however, she tried making some conversation, though Adrian spoke before she could. "Why Zero?" he asked, maybe a bit more bluntly than Martinez would have liked.
The question came as a small surprise to Zero, and his small entourage, but it shouldn't have been an unexpected question. His henchmen, not so subtly, moved their heads in closer to catch the response.
"Well, that on its own is a long story, and not one that is widely known even among the Brigands." After turning the corner, Zero pointed towards the ship in the centre of the hangar and made a short cough to draw attention to it. "If you are so inclined to hear the tale, I'll gladly tell you on the way to Marne. However, first we have to board this fine ship," his arm waving around in the general vicinity of vessel.
Fine was a little bit of a hyperbole. Still, it had a certain rusty charm to it. "I wouldn't mind hearing it," Martinez said, glad that Zero hadn't taken offence to Adrian's directness. She figured Zero might even like that, given his position. The group boarded the vessel. The interior was just as cobbled together as it looked from the outside, though it didn't overly appear to be dirty. Good. If there was one thing Martinez couldn't stand, it would be dirtiness.
"How long will it take to Marne?" Adrian asked as he entered after me, followed by the girl with auburn hair.
The pilot quickly responded to the question presented, cutting off any chance for the 'more important' crew members to answer. "We're looking at about between twenty or thirty minutes. We'll be using jumpholes to avoid detection. Should only be extended if we catch wind of any Royals that might be in our way, but it should be clear." Unlike the Zero, who's accent was rather tame compared to most Gallics, the pilot had a very thick and difficult to understand accent. Many of his words sounded completely different from the actual pronunciation, yet that was a common problem between different regions around Gallia.
Teresa mouthed an 'ah' sound before sitting down in one of the sparse seats that were arranged on the walls opposite of one another. It very much so had the air of a military vessel, just... wrong. "In any case," Adrian said before sitting down by Teresa's side, pulling the other girl with him to sit down as well. "If the story of your name is rather long, it'd be the perfect filler for that time."
"It could be longer." Zero spoke bluntly. "It really depends how much flair I put into it, it could answer it in a sentence, but that is no fun at all." The pilot, while getting himself settled in, called out to his passengers, or more specifically Zero, "Well, keep it within the duration of the journey, S'il vous plait." Zero simply nodded in response.
Zero cleared his throat. "Now, where to begin? Something you should know is my real name. I'm Nathen Roux by birth, but I prefer my handle - I've gone by it for more years than I've not." He takes a small pause, noticing the his Brigand guards and sat down with their heads leaned forwards, it's rather apparent they've wanted to know for a while. "Many many years ago, back before Rousseau was running the show, me and him were partners in crime. Back then we did many odd jobs for the previous warlord of Marne, as reliable people were ever so hard to come by."
"Can't say I can relate too well," Teresa meant while crossing her legs as she sat. The engines started coming alive and a poorly dampened jolt alerted the passengers that the ship had started moving. "How is it like, Marne? City planet like Leeds?"
Zero pondered, trying to put his words correctly as not to give off the wrong impression. "Marne is.. Marne is diverse. Most people think it to be a unstructured pirate haven, but it is quite the opposite. While it is true there are areas of mass lawlessness there are other areas to that are completely structured and governed by Rousseau. Well, and there are the other parts of the Planet that are under Council rule - they are closer to a government than we will ever be." Zero chuckles to himself at the thought.
"Sounds like a ball painted two different colors," Adrian said, shrugging. Teresa cringed at the comparison.
"If you want a simplified description, then yes. Yet, as I imagine you know well enough, comparing complex things into a dumbed down version tends to leave out crucial details. Trying to sum up Marne in a sentence, now that would be a challenge."
"Wasn't meant like that," Adrian muttered, though Teresa elbowed him in the sides. She idly wondered why she was doing this right now, given that it was mostly him who was reminding her of minding her manners.
"How is that like being next to the Council like that?" Teresa asked, cocking her head slightly. "Isn't there friction?"
"Hardly." Zero said bluntly. "We are not completely segregated communities, as much as it may seem that way. It was with the Council and the Marquis that Brigands successfully captured the planet in the first place, so the Council and Brigands have always got along - they just disagree with some of our practices is all."
While Zero was giving the brief history of the Brigands the pilot had fully readied the ship for launch and was start the procedure. One of Zero's guards joined him in the cockpit just before the launch commenced, leaving the room mid sentence. As the ship began to leave the hangar there was a rather high amount of rattling and shaking caused while still in the station, but it ceased the moment they had cleared the dock. It was clear Zero hadn't brought the best of the Brigand ships.
Teresa was quasi-used to rough flights. The university only had so much money to spare, and they did not spend it on transportation. It annoyed her to no end at times, but at least she didn't get sick from the tremors. "You make it sound so easy while Bretonia is haemorrhaging manpower every day," she meant idly, looking through the little passageway into the cockpit, where she could see a part of the window.
"Well, I might be skipping over some details. This was years in the planning and the Council is closer to a government than the Marquis or us - it was a full scale war that reignited the war over Gallia." Zero added a small paused for effect before continuing, "Not to mention that most of Marne was filled with the lower classes that more than happy to seize control." Even though this was before Zero's time, and he hardly considers himself the embodiment of the liberation movement, it was possible to detect a hint of pride in his words.
Nodding, Teresa tried to imagine a full-scale war spanning over the entirety of a planet and failed. Maybe Marne was small? The ship would continue its obdurous advancement through the edge of Sirius. Even though it had hardly looked trustworthy, Teresa felt like this ship had made the trip often enough in order not to fall apart. While occasionally, they would exchange more words, the conversation died down halfway through the flight and it only changed when Marne came into sight.
As the large planetary jewel, Marne, came into sight from the starboard window, the attention of a number of the crew was grabbed as they scurried to view it - clearly, it had been some time since they'd last visited.
Finishing up his story, Zero pointed his finger towards the planet as it slowly got bigger and bigger with their approach, this being the first indicator that directed everyone's attention to it. "Looks like we've made it here, in one piece with no conflict, seems fortune favours us today copains!"
"I wonder what you'd've done if we'd encountered something," Teresa commented, though didn't expect a reply. The planet looked more... intact than she would have assumed considering what she heard about the war that had taken place there. She didn't rise from her seat while the ship moved towards the surface quickly, slowing down gradually as they entered the atmosphere. Slight tremors went through the ship as it happened, giving testament to its less than stellar condition.
Breaching the cloud barrier, they were greeted with a view of the planet's surface. Not all of it was built on, giving it a lopsided, patchy appearance, party steel, part green. "How do you manage to keep the carbon dioxide levels low, given that there are so few forests?" Adrian asked, looking from where he sat, remembering the planet's appearance from the orbit.
Puzzled looks were shot in the vague direction of Adrian by most of the crew, unsure of what he meant. This made the Brigands really seem like many of the stereotypes that were assigned to them. Zero spoke up quickly after being questioned, "Err, yeah. I know that we make carbon dioxide.. but.. err. That's about it. Those are not really our issues." When he said carbon dioxide his voice noticeable slowed down while he tried to pronounce it correctly.
Adrian figured that he could have predicted this response given the less than reputable education he thought these men to have. "Eh, no matter," Adrian said, deflecting the issue. It had been more of a question from curiosity than anything else anyways. Teresa, meanwhile, was more interested in following where the ship was going. The man they were supposed to meet was probably really influential and rich, so she expected some sort of villainous lair to reveal itself soon.
All the crew slowly returned to their positions and their own activities while Zero's focus remained on the trio of scientists. "It won't be long now I assure you. We're heading to one of the towering structures over the main Brigand Spaceport. If you squint you can probably see it in the distance..." Towards the end of his words a hint of uncertainty can be detected. "At least I think that's where we are meeting him., he could be somewhere else, but that doesn't matter."
"Well, holotechnology is a thing," Adrian said, figuring that Zero was alluding to that. For a ship its size, they were making surprising headway, first heading over a densely built-upon area, where the buildings continuously got taller and more impressive, until the spaceport became hard to overlook. Ships of all sizes were flitting to and fro, mostly of the small variety. The building reminded Adrian a bit of a bee hive, only more oblong and with the ships being the bees.
"Err. Yeah." Zero said passively, but not sounding all the confident in his agreement. As the ship approached its destination, the tower came into full view. It dominated the skyline of the local area and was the tallest structure for hundreds of miles. A fitting display of power at best. As the ship began to slow, an annoying sound became audible as it rattled and vibrated. The pilot called out from the cockpit, "Err, Zero? It's doing it again." Zero's face looked blank and unamused. "I can hear."
Teresa just raised an eyebrow at the exchange, trying not to change her expression at the incessant sound that was way too high pitched for her liking.
"What do I do about it?" The pilot asked helplessly. "Well, how did you fix it last time?" Zero's tone had a hint of irritation within it. "I kicked a bunch of pipes inside the engine room." The pilot replied. "Then do that again when we land."
That didn't sound too promising, Teresa thought beside herself, though didn't say anything further. She gave Adrian a look that told him to keep his mouth shut and let the others work out what was happening with them. It wasn't like they could help anyways, given that they were unfamiliar with the ship.
Zero returned his focus to the scientists who were patiently waiting in this flying death trap, his face showing no amount of concern. "Shouldn't be much longer now All we need to do is land and take the elevator all the way up. I hope it's not broken again. I don't want to walk up two hundred flights of stairs. With luck call it about five minutes."
As he finished his words the ship began to slow down drastically as it approached the main landing area at the foot of the tower. Looking out the windows showed numerous automated turrets lining the massive walls of the compound, with an enormous accompaniment of guards. This, if anything, displayed a not too subtle hint of paranoia for Rousseau.
To Teresa, it seemed a little like a glorified shanty-castle, given that more than a few spots looked like they were haphazardly cobbled together with metal sheets. Then again, there was no plywood in sight, so it didn't look too off-colour. "I'm just old enough to manage stairs still," Teresa said, though secretly hoping that it wouldn't be necessary to walk. It wasn't like she was fat, given her obsessive tendencies when it came to eating healthy since she learned what happened to a body that became obese, but she wasn't an athletic type either.
Adrian had taken to looking out of the windshield at the construction ahead of them, seemingly lost in thought.
The ship began to touchdown on the landing pad with the annoying tick slowly coming to a silent stop. Zero spoke up to everyone in the ship as he got up from his seat. "Alright, everyone. Let's head out." Directing his gaze towards the cockpit, and the pilot who was making his way towards the door, "Ron, you take care of that engine."
Adrian cast a last glance in the direction of the cockpit before he stood up, followed by Teresa and the black-haired girl that she had almost been pulling along the entire time. Motioning for the girl to move ahead, Teresa grasped the small briefcase she had brought along for the trip, knowing that it would be a bad idea to forget, given that it was supposed to contain a gift for the warlord that called this place his home.
Stepping out of the vessel, Teresa shoved the black-haired girl forwards a little as they started moving, as the girl seemed to always lag behind a little with their movements, never having spoken a single word so far, though her eyes were wandering over the hangar and the people with mild interest.
As they left the ship to the landing pad, the rays of sunlight were cast upon them, an unwelcome change at first, causing most of the party to squint while their eyes adjusted. Zero gestured to the bodyguards to follow closely behind. The two guards decked in armour took the rear, while Zero led forwards. The compound looks secure enough thanks to the large quantity of guns that lined the walls and the solders that patrolled back and fourth. Whether they were Brigands or guns for hire, it was impossible to tell at a glance.
The entrance to the tower, and the lobby inside, looked rather elegant compared to the structure and it's surrounding walls. Again, this seemed to be a show of power or prestige as it was becoming obvious the Brigands liked to do. Pointing forwards, Zero spoke up. "That right there is elevator up. Once we arrive at the apex, we'll have to remove all weapons before entering to speak with Rousseau. I am sure you understand?"
That made it a bit awkward, since Teresa had been carrying the briefcase with the exact purpose of delivering a gift. Sighing, she nodded. "We're not carrying any. If you want to look?" She held out the briefcase towards the man, while Adrian was being patted down by another man, who found nothing and then turned towards the girl that Adrian and Teresa had brought with them.
After being handed the briefcase, Zero snapped his fingers, indicating to the surrounding guards to search the rest of the scientists. Unexpectedly, the search wasn't particularly violating and was rather civilised, as far as these types of searches can go. Before opening the briefcase, Zero asked a question. "Is anything in here private, or reserved for Rousseau? We do not wish to rob our guests of their privacy, even more so when they have approached us in such a friendly manner."
The truth was that Zero likely wouldn't really know what to do with the contents of the briefcase anyways. "Please, look inside if you want. It is a gift for Rousseau. A small piece of our work so far." She extended a hand and opened the clasp at the top for Zero so he could open it. Inside, he would find nothing but a single vial of a murky, metallic fluid. The vial held about one hundred millilitres of fluid that seemed to move inside the vial even while Zero was holding it relatively still.
"What is thi-" Zero cut himself off. "No, this is not for me." Zero put the vial back inside the briefcase, sealed it back up, and passed it back to he good doctor. He quickly glanced over to see the others being still patted down for weapons, before retuning to the Doctor. "It seems nothing is the matter so far. Are you ready to proceed?"
It struck Teresa as odd that this wasn't confiscated. This might just as well be a weaponized chemical agent she could use to kill anyone in the building. It was not, but that was besides the point. She figured that there were different safeguards in place to prevent these things. "Yes, I would say so." She looked back and saw that the others were now done with their examination.
One of the guards looked at Zero, didn't say a word, and raised his hand to give him a thumbs up, indicating everyone was clear. While it would be expected that this is a rather annoying procedure to go through, it was a necessary one. Rousseau was a living advertisement for paranoia if such a thing existed. "Splendid." Zero waved his arm before him to as if to indicate to proceed.
"All we need to do is take that elevator up to the top and then we should be golden." With a short pause he added, "My apologies for the delays and such thus far. I understand it is not the best of impressions to make upon guests." Within his voice it was possible to detect that he might be putting his concerns on a little bit, but they could have easily genuine as well. At the end of the, considering they were just a bunch of pirates, they've done a pretty good job thus far.
"Naturally," the Doctor replied, taking a look at the elevator a few steps behind them and made a stride towards it, looking over to check whether her companions were following, which they did. Together, they entered the lift. Teresa placed the briefcase on the ground by her legs and the last thing she saw before the doors closed was Zero's face.
The elevator, without requiring user input, soon began it's ascent. At first it made sounds that were not all that comforting, but soon subsided as it gained speed. The longer it took ascending the higher it felt, until eventually nearing the top, the spire of the tower, the doors opened to a rather large view over the surrounding skyline. While the comparison was observable before inside this ship, it was pretty clear that every other structure for miles upon miles was dwarfed in comparison. To the left was a door that led into a hallway with two armed guards standing directly in front of some double doors.
Without much pause, the Doctor left the lift and strode towards the set of double doors. The view was impressive, but that was not what they were here for. It was pretty obvious where they had to go, given that it was easy to find wealthy men by following the decorum. "We are being expected," the Doctor spoke towards the guards once she got in sufficient range to not need to raise her voice. Adrian and the auburn girl came to a halt shortly behind her.
When they stopped, the guards quickly look at each other, then step aside. The one on the right had slightly more muscle tone than the one on the left, but it was seemingly for intimidation value, given the weapons they had holstered. Well, the guard on the left had rifle in hand. The one on the right simply flicked his head towards the door indicating for them to enter.
Pushing against the door, the Doctor was surprised at how heavy it was. Needing to use her shoulder as support, she managed to push it open and entered, huffing slightly. Adjusting her collar, she gave Adrian a slight frown before stepping in.
Upon entering the room it was rather clear that Rousseau was trying to make a statement. The room was grand in design with an extremely high ceiling, that formed the spike that was the apex of the tower, and walls that were decorated with rather expensive art work. It was pretty evident that this can't all have directly been Rousseau's. At the far end of the room was Rousseau sitting at his desk, engrossed in whatever activities he was currently involved in. Just behind him was a window that spanned the entire of the back wall, giving it a rather sinister overview of the compound and city below. The room also had various support pillars throughout, some featuring defence turrets that tracked all movement within the room. This, along with the guards stationed around at various points, was both intimidating and insightful when concerning his paranoia.
The vista reminded Teresa of rich supervillains in some way. The expensive art, the tidy atmosphere and the window behind the workplace allowing to look down on the world below. It was classic, and a little cheesy. Then again, classic mostly meant that it had worked for a time frame spanning centuries. "Mr. Rousseau," the Doctor stated, beginning to walk. It took her and the others roughly ten seconds to cross the entirety of the room, which in itself was pretty impressive. "I am glad that you are receiving us." They came to a standstill in front of the desk. The sun was still high in the sky, bathing the entire room in brightness. Teresa figured that the atmosphere in this room could feel almost apocalyptic if the sun stood right in the evening and the sunset shone directly into the room.
After being addressed, Rousseau looked up from his work to see the party approaching him. "Oh, bonjour. I wasn't expecting you to bring a full fête. No matter." He slowly stands up from his desk to approach his guests, doing so revealing his entire outfit. Like a stereotypical villain, he was wearing a full suit, with no armament in immediate sight. He shared a very similar skin tone to Zero, but evidently lacked the same tattoos. After coming out from behind his desk he offered his hand to Doctor Martinez. As his hand reached out, it revelled a tattoo, of the Brigand logo, on the dorsum of his hand.
"Welcome to Marne."
"A beautiful place," the Doctor replied, shaking the Warlord's hand. He had a firm handshake, yet the Doctor was used to it. "Those are my companions," she spoke further after they had shook hands and motioned to Dr. Wight first. "Dr. Adrian Wight, my colleague." Then to the girl with the auburn hair. "And Contessa. She is here to help us with a little demonstration." While Adrian had leaned forward to shake Rousseau's hand, Contessa seemed to be distracted by a portrait on the wall. It was an intricate work. Beautiful.
Rousseau gave Adrien a good firm handshake, but his attention was on Contessa who stared blankly at the wall, seemingly enthralled by the artwork. "It's very abstract, isn't it?" Rousseau questioned.
The girl turned her head, cocking it slightly and remained silent. The Doctor spoke up. "She does not speak or understand you. It will be apparent why in a moment."
"Errm," Rousseau stuttered, confused. "Alright then... I guess. Should we get down to business?" He said, turning towards his desk to sit back down. While doing so, he snapped his fingers and two of his personnel brought chairs that were sneakily hidden behind one of the pillars.
It was slightly startling to see the men emerge from the pillars like this, but it was to be expected that Rousseau was never truly alone. The Doctor placed the briefcase on her lap and folded her hands over it, crossing her legs. "We are here to establish a certain kind of relationship with the Brigands," the Doctor began once they were all seated, Adrian needing to pull Contessa by the hand slightly to signal to her to sit down. "I am working on a series of projects that require a prodigious amounts of resources. Friends usually work wonders for this problem, especially if you might have something to offer them that they really want." She tapped her fingers on the briefcase she had placed on her lap to draw Rousseau's eyes towards it.
Rousseau placed his elbows on the desk and his hands just above forming a small finger pyramid. After the short tap of Teresa's fingers against the briefcase, Rousseau's eyes looked down. It was fairly large for a briefcase, but it didn't look like anything too unmanageable. "I see. I am curious as to what you could possibly require from the Brigands, let alone in massive quantities, but I am more curious as to what you are willing to offer." He lets of a small smirk, before finishing his sentence.
Nodding slowly, Teresa lifted the briefcase so it stood upright on her lap. "We don't require much, really. Fact is that some of our work might require us to change locations some times. Gallia is perfect for this purpose, since almost all Sirian factions have few ties to the Kingdom." She let the statement stand like that and turned the briefcase around, putting it onto the desk and opening it, revealing the vial with the opaque, grey fluid that Zero had already seen. The fluid inside was swirling slightly, indicating that the fluid itself was likely viscous. "I have been fascinated with what people can be obsessed about for a long time, Mr. Rousseau. There is so much literature dealing with the topic of unfulfilled wishes that seemed just out of reach. A few months ago, I was approached by a woman who wanted to be immortal."
"I see. And how does this liquid relate to 'unfulfilled wishes'?" Rousseau questions, leaning in.
The Doctor leaned back again, scratching her arm. "I granted her that wish," she said bluntly after a moment of deliberation. No need to wrap it in flowery language. "It is how we finance our projects." She deliberated telling him about the Formula System but decided against it. No need to explain the technical details of her creations to him. It might ruin the magic. "We pick out certain people. Wealthy people, mostly, or people whose favour we would need, and offer them this." She tapped the briefcase. "Consider this a gift. It contains a fluid to be innoculated into the blood stream. It will arrest the aging process, making the user biologically immortal."
Rousseau looked confused. This sounded more like science fiction than anything even remotely tangible. "You're saying you've 'cured' death? Is such a thing even possible, or practical?" The scepticism in his voice was evident, and a quick glance around the room would show some of the closer guards sharing that in their expressions. Before the Doctor can answer, he adds more. "And, if it is possible, why would you offer it to me? It seems like it would be closely guarded secret, and it would be rather foolhardy of me to inject an unknown substance into my veins."
The Doctor tittered. "Not at all." She gestured for Contessa and the girl stood up and made a step forward. "This is why I brought Contessa here."
"Oh? What does she have to do with this, is she different from you and Adrien?" Rousseau inquired.
"She is," the Doctor nodded. Adrian seemed to be slightly uncomfortable with the entire situation, remaining still on his seat. "Contessa is a special specimen. I created her from biological material of one of my most brilliant colleagues." And she did not actually give it to me voluntarily, the Doctor thought besides herself. "If you spent decades of your life studying the natural sciences, more and more, the human body will seem like a machine to you. The flesh is fluid. It can be reshaped. Remade." The Doctor rolled up one of Contessa's sleeves and showed Rousseau the arm. "Manipulated." It showed a tattoo. A Sirian date. 14.01.824. The Doctor waited until she was sure the man in front of her was able to read the number. "Her 'birthday'," she stated simply and let the statement hang in the air, knowing that Rousseau would connect the dots now.
Rousseau paused while he thought to himself, trying to process all this information. Before he continued, he waved his right hand in the air and clicked twice. The guards within the immediate vicinity began making their way to the front of the room, out of earshot. "Are you saying, you 'grew' this person?" Rousseau wasn't actually sure if person was the right word. If what they claimed was true, this thing was more akin to an abomination. "If what you're saying is true, I am getting an idea of why you might want us to provide you a secluded location."
"You will be given enough medical documentation so your own medical personnel will be able to verify everything I am saying as true," the Doctor replied, letting go of Contessa's arm, the girl pulling down the sleeve again as if feeling self-conscious about the tattooed number. "What I was getting at, however, is that the process of growing a human this quickly has drawbacks, in principle. She ages fast. Very fast. Do you think the process would have stopped just because she reached a post-pubescent age? No, that is not how it works. Aging is a constant process. It always continues at the same pace, unless..." She tapped the briefcase again.
The doctors tone of voice was rather convincing, and Rousseau's mind was becoming far less dismissive of this idea. More questions were appearing within his mind, and she had seemingly thoroughly captured his attention. "So you created that as an 'antidote' to condition made by this..." Rousseau fails to finish his sentence, as if he has some difficulty calling it a person after what he has just been told. His hand gestured while he spoke so it was clear what he was indicating.
"Not quite. Contessa is a stress-test of the Formula," the Doctor explained. "The fluid you are seeing is..." she hesitated for a moment, looking for a fitting terms. "a basis platform. The substance can be adjusted to do almost anything with a human body, if I have enough time to come up with a way to do it. Currently, I am looking for a way to imprint memories and knowledge into people using this base platform. Contessa is a little, well, blank without having had a childhood and the time to learn language."
"In layman terms, how does this work? It seems like a lot of these factors differ greatly, but to have one thing that affects them all, well it seems frankly impossible."
The Doctor pondered the question for a moment. "Nano tech. It does not stop aging, because that would mean you also wouldn't heal any injuries since your cells wouldn't divide. Instead, the nanites regenerate the cells so they can replicate indefinitely and correct deviant cells. Natural death occurs upon sufficient amounts of cell death in the body. The base Formula prevents this and upholds the body in the same status they found it when they entered the organism. This is called imprinting. Naturally, the nano tech can be configured to do any alteration on a microscopic level." Theoretically, the Doctor could go into greater detail, but that would become technical rather quick. She didn't fear them trying to replicate her invention.
Rousseau rubbed his chin, processing everything he'd just heard. "I see. I see. There is one main question I have, one that you could most likely predict me asking." He paused briefly to think as how to phrase it. "How do I know how much truth there is to your words?"
"Two things." She raised two fingers, the index finger and the thumb. "I already mentioned that I will provide sufficient medical data to substantiate my claims. If you want to, you may also have one of your medical professionals examine Contessa." She wasn't worried that the data or the examination would give away anything. Even if they took to examining the Formula she had just given Rousseau, it would likely take years until they had deciphered the code the nanites were programmed with. She had spent the majority of her years learning the human condition to create this. That and she had had help of her own, not that she would ever reveal that.
Rousseau nods along to her words. "I see. Say I accept this gift, what specifically do you want in return? I can only imagine this is what you'd call a 'once in a life time offer', oui?"
"We mostly require space. The rest I would need to arrange with your professionals, because the machineries might be difficult to come by and complicated to install." The Doctor led Contessa back to her chair and the girl sat down, obedient as a pet. "We are also working on a mobile headquarter, probably a civilian carrier. In case it ever becomes necessary, drydock access would be most agreeable."
"Hmm." Rousseau paused. "Firstly, the drydock might be slightly difficult given our lacking of any major firepower. Your best bet would be Boulogne base in Picardy for that, it definitely has the most advanced facilities to my knowledge." Once again pausing, he raised two fingers up, keeping his arm on the desk. "Secondly, there are two main options for where we could reserve space for you. Assuming your words have been correct thus far, I could arrange to have a lab constructed on site here, within the compound. On the other hand, I could grant you access to a portion of Boulogne Base. You'd be able to run a deck on the station as you see fit for your experiments. That being said, there are a couple of drawbacks with that last option." His voice notably changed towards the end, emphasising the word 'couple' almost exclusively.
Most of these names didn't mean anything to the Doctor, but it seemed to her like it would be most effective to take Bologne simply because they would have drydock and their space to work relatively close together. "Boulogne sounds quite good, then," she said, tentative with the Gallic name of the base. "Oh, and star charts of the Gallic systems would be appreciated. We Sirians most fly blind whenever we enter Gallia." This had gone better than she had expected so far. At worst, she would have reasonably expected to be taken hostage in some way. There was a contingency for that, but it would still require her to die, which really irked her. A good thing it hadn't come to that.
"Mhm. Zero can provide the star charts from one of his ships. But first, a question, if I may. What timescale are you working on here? How soon would you require all these assets?" Rousseau inquired. It was unexpected that she didn't even ask about the drawbacks, but it didn't bother Rousseau, yet if she needed a lab soon there might be a small conflict given it's not 'technically' his yet.
The Doctor shook her head. "No schedule that would make this pressing. It is merely intended to be a contingency in case our other locations become compromised. We will have the means to travel between these spaces freely." Hyperspace technology truly was a marvel, Teresa mused. A shame it would still take time until they would be able to take this technology one step further.
"I see. In any case, it should become a viable option within a few months from now." Rousseau scratched his chin in thought. He didn't want to involve this poor scientist in the complex political system of the Brigands, it was actually rather annoying she said Boulogne. The compound would be much easier to monitor. "Is there anything else specific you'd like me to arrange?"
"Maybe a hotline for urgent calls. Just in case," the Doctor added with a thin smile. This had gone quite alright. No need to ask for superfluous things.
"Understood. While our reach doesn't extend much beyond Gallia, we are good are getting things where they need to go." Rousseau aided his words with a sinister smirk. "Discreetly."
"Should you ever desire our services, beyond what we have already agreed upon, you know where to find moi." Rousseau quickly shook his hand in the air, and pointed down at the desk. Within a few seconds one of his henchmen was standing aside, where Rousseau passed over the vial. It was quickly taken to the side of the room, where it was placed into a safe, behind one of the paintings.
Standing up, the Doctor gave Rousseau a small bow that was respectful yet not demure. "You are too kind." Behind her, the others were rising as well, preparing to leave. "Should you need our services, you need just call." She held out her hand to offer him a firm handshake. A symbolic gesture to seal their little pact.
Rousseau rose from his seat in unison with them and his hand met the good Doctor's. A firm handshake indeed. "Zero should still be waiting for you outside, for your return journey. If there is anything minor to provide, he should be able to take care of it."
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