Cannes Resort Facility, Provence
January 1, 745 AGS
The silhouette of Cannes was visible from afar - the huge space resort owned by Bouvet Space Entertainment had recently returned to its owners, ceasing to be the headquarters of the Police de Provence: and for the best, as many tourists preferred to relax on board the station rather than stay on Planet Marseille. It is not clear why, but perhaps the abundance of not particularly legal pleasures was not to everyone's liking, and the absence of the Gendarmerie outside the floating cities did not inspire confidence in the local police, assembled from the Unione Corse.
The shuttle, escorted by two Serval-class fighters, was rapidly approaching the station from the side of the gate at Ile-de-France. This may not have been the safest way to travel, for as history has shown - even a King can be hit by a handful of pirates, but Marechal Antonin de Lusignan did not have enough time to travel aboard his flagship from Orleans to Provence for just one meeting that he would prefer to keep secret - so the fighters accompanying him belonged to the Security Bureau loyal to him alone.
Soon, the three ships flew into a spacious hangar reserved only for military 'needs' and having abandoned their ships, the Marechal, accompanied by four GSB agents with visible signs of augmentation, headed for the meeting point with Omer Darche, daring to ask so much of the state he works for, but without explaining why.
A momentary pop of space happened somewhere within the system of Provence. As if from nothing a Gallic shuttle flared it's engines and burned towards Cannes. It had appeared astronomically below the navigational plane, somewhere nearby the moon known as Cavallion. The shuttle briefly entered its limited cruise towards the barren moon until the gravity of it and its parent planet's gravity took hold.
The shuttle used the gravitational forces to fling itself towards the orbiting station. Even with the generally standard flight maneuver, it would take them another thirty minutes before they reached the station itself. Cannes was a work of art which displayed more of its features they closer they got. Wide rings encircled a central spire, the designs done for cosmetic effect. This was a luxury station. A pleasure paradise. There was no need for brute utilitarian designs or drab sidings. It was a statement for the finer things and the nobility of Gallia ate such up with gusto.
The station sent a hailing request which the pilot answered and requested docking. It was granted after a few further exchanges. They were marked down under the purpose of "business". Guiding lights flickered and danced as they lead them into the general docking bays. Looking out, one noted how even the bay was dressed up to look elegant.
After touchdown, a passenger of the shuttle leaned into the cockpit section and instructed the pilot to refuel the ship and keep things warm. Returning to the spartan cargo section that had a rack of seats with backs to the side of the hull, the only other figure with them was rising from his seat. The first passenger, a man, briefly regarded the figured who was clad in a drab robe of blue that covered the entire body. A large hood was pulled over and when they moved, simple fitted slippers and baggy cloth trousers were revealed. It was a tactic used by low nobility and aristocracy in a vain attempt to mask their members from public eye when moving through public spaces. The irony of the fad was that such garb often caught the attention of passerbys anyways. It resulted in a good number of muggings on various planets.
The hatch opened and he ushered the shrouded figure out. As they took a few steps an usher approached to subtlety question them while masked as offering services. The man refused any luxury services and instead requested an escort to the agreed meeting location. Cheated from being able to sell their services, the usher begrudgingly showed them the way to the spot and took a modest fee as payment before scurrying off.
The man felt ill at ease and passed glances at his companion occasionally. Shrouded, the figure was taller than he but had a slight hunch. They almost looked like a savant, or an accompanying scribe. They hadn't spoken a word since landing.
Shaking off his nerves he opened a door to let the two of them in, spying the contact and his four guards within. He gently closed the door and moved to approach the other party.
He held a smile, the other figure following behind closely. He decided to speak first. "Marechal de Lusignan?" If the dark tone of his skin didn't give it away, his accent was distinctly of the people of Planet Nevers.
"Depends on who's asking," calmly replied the man in a white uniform with a cape of the same color thrown over it. Four guards stationed themselves around the perimeter of the room, peering at him aloof, somewhat reminiscent of revived security cameras. "Are you Omer Darche?"
"That would be me." The dark skinned man confirmed, a light formal bow produced afterwards. Unlike his companion, he was dressed in an pastel orange dress shirt and blue pants-vest combo, the colors of the system of Burgundy, which was ironic within itself. His long braided hair was pulled back and tied off in a bundled pony tail. "This is my aide." A side wave to the tall cowled figure was given. The figure didn't react. To perhaps excuse such Darche spoke up again. "I am surprised you wished to speak to us yourselves. Pollux Networks is humbled by such a fact. Shall we get to it?"
"Indeed," replied Marechal, lingering his gaze on the tall hooded figure, "your unusual request has aroused my interest, and as I am an inquisitive man - I have decided to look into everything myself."
"You may speak freely in the presence of my attendants," the dark-haired man of forty said with his arms folded across his chest, "They, even if they wanted to, cannot tell anyone about our conversation. So, do you want to talk to me frankly or are we going to exchange hints?"
"Entirely depends on you, I feel." Darche replied, smiling. He glanced around and motioned to a setting of couches he noticed. If Marechal agreed to the idea, Darche would move to take a seat. The companion always stood nearby and close. "I believe my request was rather straight forward. You are able to allow such, no?" He questioned, then added after a thought, "And were you able to contact the Amiral to confirm our allowances?"
In person, Darche was clearly of some form of military background from how he carried himself. If one knew it, he also had the tell tale signs of a fighter pilot by how he moved his head around for confirmations or denials, as larger and more distinct motions of the head were needed when wearing a helmet. However this man clearly had been retired or out of service for a number of years, the war exhaustion gone and a much more relaxed man had taken his place. That was, at least, the impression he was trying to give off. As before, the companion remained unreadable.
"Marechal Vaillant confirmed what you said and hence we will add your vessels to registry after all documentary is received," answered Antonin calmfully, beginning from the less important matter, "Your request has many dark holes I want to enlight: what ship class do you need such drydock for; why such secrecy if this would be a civilian vessel, unless its not and so on. Answer me these questions honestly, without attempts to hide anything, and we will see if your request can be satisfied or our paths separate."
On hearing that he had gotten word from Vaillant gave visible relief. However as Antonin went on, Darche frowned. "It seems he has not told you everything if you must ask those types of questions." He sighed out. A slight adjustment in the couch. "For me to answer those questions I need you to confirm if you are legally able to grant our requests. I mean no disrespect, but this detail can not be overlooked for us to move forward."
"The only man superior to me is Grand Marechal himself, Great Assemble may attempt to interfere but as long as this threat no national security, stability or order they will interfere," with a smirk answered Antonin: it was obvious this man is not familiar well with the new political system and the place of Marechals in it. A moment later he continued: "Moreover, if a suitable object lies within my domain, known as Austrasie subsector, or as systems of Champagne and Orleanais, then it will be on my responsibility if I allow you what you asking for. Hence, if you insist my man had carried information with distortion, you can give me the clear version from, shall we say, first hands."
It had to be a trap, Darche considered. But it was one he willingly put himself into as a show of good faith. However he could not get over the feeling this would all end poorly for him. In his indecision, which only lasted perhaps a couple seconds, he glanced towards the cowled figure. After another moment or two, Darche seemed to visibly calm. The cowled figure didn't speak or make any gesture. It is possible that the two had some informal physical method of communication. Micro-ticks to signal certain phrases. Or even more likely hidden communicators which were used by tapping out words.
This trail of logic put a lot of importance on a man who was supposed to simply be an aide. Maybe Darche just found the look time enough to think, a stalling tactic. That was more likely. Darche turned to look back at the Gallic Official before him. "You said 'our vessels', indicating you know we have multiple in our capacity to use. Now, being straight forward, we have four vessels of Naval make, though two of them were fitted for police duties. All old models from the Kingdom days. Two Lynxes and a Cougar."
He didn't break stride, moving onto the next topic almost instantly. "The nature of our network and company is outwardly in the industry of information and obtaining it. However, we mainly focus on the development of-" A pause, either for effect or a genuine hesitation. "Xenology. The field is often times scowled upon, mainly by Sirians, which is why we do not often publicize that aspect of our services." He explained. He held a sheepish smile at this point, knowing full well that such research was almost always regulated.
"Our intentions would not be the destabilization of the Union, nor any such notion. No, in effect we simply wish to come home and continue our work. The kicker is the work requested of us would cause discord. Work that your people requested, should you wish us be thorough. Such is the need for safe harbour and the ability to continue our work where those exposed can not act against us." Darche explained.
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