She looked at Victor with a somewhat sad smile. Her path was laid down in front of her and she had to walk it. Alone. And with the future of the House in stake.
"You know very well I do not do 'safe'. Now you.."
Kaze clutched his hand, as a form of reassurance.
"You should not stick your nose into trouble. I trained the Ark for months and if need be, I will tell Captain Finn to tie you to a wall so that you ride out the storm there."
Victor chuckled and caressed Kaze's cheek, while removing a playful lock of hair, sealing the conversation with a silent kiss and finally after a good minute, saying their silent goodbyes with their eyes as he finally left the room.
Looking at the letter, her jaw tensed again, her body and mind once again war ready. No doubt, some in the government were against this move. The ones that had interests in Gran Canaria if she would have to figure who. Even so, the Zoners allowed the Corsairs to use it as a FOB and fence of their strikes at Bretonia. Cutting off that access combined with removing the very same people that deal on both sides of the war alongside gaining a planet.. Well. It was time at last. She looked at the window, and imagined the political stupidity about to be unleashed by O-49 major players.
"Dieu et mon droit."
Her mouth whispered, as the nanites covering her bionic hand receded.
"Yes?"
Hall was on the other side. "The captain of that Gallic gunboat -- we have him. And he wishes to speak, but he insists that he speaks with you."
Is that right? The request both bemused and irritated him in equal measure. You can tell that captain that I cannot simply summoned like some mongrel pup at will, particularly by the likes of him. So if I'm coming down there, I'd better have a very good reason for it and at the moment, I see none. I do not answer to the whims of the French Captain. I trust you can convey the message to him for me?
"I had rather not be responsible for war crimes, Sire, so I'd prefer hearing what he has to say without torturing him. Are you coming, or will you send Dagon for the torture?"
He rolled his eyes. I will be down shortly. With that, a somewhat annoyed Admiral made his way to the life and descended to the brig. Once he arrived, he found Hall Dagon isn't coming, so it's just you and I. Where is this captain?
Hall opened the door. Inside, there stood two guards, and between them a table and two opposing seats. The supposed Gallic captain was sitting on one. He was battered, bruised, and his head was trembling slightly, either from the excitement or from fear, though one would rather blame the prior, as he was managing to proudly keep his chin up, in defiance of his captors, and both metaphorically and literally exposing them his throat. The name tag on his shoulder read: MP Raynald Nostredame.
Maître Principal Raynald Nostredame was not having a particularly good day, and things weren't exactly looking up. There was always the promise of glory in those skirmishes, a chance for individual exploit... But Nostredame was a Maître Principal. He knew enough about those promises, and where they generally lead people. Now he had lost it all... But a chance to gloat. Being a Gallic sailor, it was a chance he wouldn't pass.
He stared at his two new visitors, a proud glint in his eye, even as his heart raced in front of the enemy.
"Well then ! Is that the finest officers present aboard this hideous and barely flying tas de merde, or just better-dressed underlings ?"
Being a maître principal, Nostredame was no officer and thus not held to the same standards as his superiors.
(06-14-2019, 12:25 PM)Sombra Hookier Wrote: If everyone was a bit more like Lanakov, the entire world would be more positive. Including pregnancy tests.
Steiner already didn't like the man, not because he was French but because he had clearly been given no instruction on proper etiquette, so the Admiral spoke, clearly and calmly When an officer walks into a room, you stand.
Nostredame laughed. It was a terrible laugh, one meant to express disdain and mockery... But his nervousness and desperation made it sound dreadful. He recovered quickly, quite aware of the abysmal performance he had just displayed.
"Ah, fine... I suppose you and the Christmas tree you use for a uniform will have to do... It's not like we have much time anyway..." he muttered, having regained his countenance.
"I'm sorry, monsieur. I would stand up but I fear my two companions here would not take kindly to it, and they do enjoy love taps. It's quite embarrassing. Anyway !" He was talking fast and erratically, not leaving a chance for any elaborate reply.
"I shall introduce myself then, since you didn't have this elementary courtesy. I am Maître Principal Raynald Nostredame of the Marine Royale Gauloise, formerly at his Majesty Charles the Eleventh's service, and now... At yours, it would seem. Not that it matters. Not that anything will matter much for you, all of youhe gestures around in a matter of hours. Would you like to hear why, monsieur l'officier ?"
He had poured what scorn he had left in him in those last two words. He'd had plenty left, it turned out.
(06-14-2019, 12:25 PM)Sombra Hookier Wrote: If everyone was a bit more like Lanakov, the entire world would be more positive. Including pregnancy tests.
He entered the room with Hall and closed the door before sitting down and leaning back, looking at the man with reserved interest before speaking. Go on.