As Valletta mooring points clasped onto the Ingenuus, the giant ship shuddered briefly and came to a standstill. Not a minute later, the comm light blinked, indicating an external comm was being sent to the Ingenuus.
"Ingneuus, please have Mr. McCool and the Ingenuus crew unload and proceed to the Hanger Doors marked "V-02" immediately. External comms have been blocked, and a security team is waiting. You have 5 minutes."
As Finn heard the communication, he lowered his head into his hands, cursing under his breath. Nodding towards the bridge crew, they made there way down to the lower level boarding tunnel that was extended to couple with Valletta's mooring point. Keying in a command as he walked out, the Ingenuus was completely locked down, with all doors and hallways sealed off. Only Finn's passcode would release the Ingenuus from lockdown.
Walking out into the immense hanger bay, he was surprised to see a massive fleet of Maltese warships coming into formation.
"What's that about? Surely it isn't for me eh?"
Giving Finn a cold stare, his comment was met with silence. The security team motioned for Finn and the crew to follow them through the hanger doors, and into the heart of Valletta. As they continued walking for some time, the security gave hushed commands, and two guards came towards Finn and placed their hands on his shoulders.
"Mr. McCool, you will follow us this way. Your crew will be kept safe in a separate holding area on Valletta."
"Yeah... ok. Well can one of you tell me what is going on? I realize there was a misun..."
"Your questions will be answered in due time."
Falling silent, Finn followed them down more corridors and hallways, unsure of what to expect from his captors. As they rounded a corner, two large doors appeared in front of them. As the guard in front keyed in a passcode on the terminal, the doors opened up to reveal a large room with a massive viewport showing Planet Malta. As Finn looked around, the room looked like a mix of a residential suite as well as a meeting room. Two couches lined two sides of the room, a large display screen opposite one of the couches. On the other side of the room, a small bar as well as a conference table that could seat around 12 people in total.
"Your quarters for the time being. Someone will be in shortly. Until then, make yourself comfortable. You may be here for quite some time."
As the guards walked out, Finn heard the doors close and lock behind them. Surprised at the level of comfort in the room, Finn began looking around the space he would be calling home for an unknown amount of time. Of course, his first stop in the room was the bar. As he opened up the refrigeration unit, all manner of bottles and glass were stored inside.
"Heh, well I'll be damned. Not as bad as imagined."
Pouring himself a drink of unknown contents, he gave it a smell and as the sting of alcohol hit his nose, a smile crept over his face. Sitting on one of the couches, he turned on the display. A local news channel immediately started playing, though after a minute or two Finn lost interest. Switching the channels, he landed on a Maltese cartoon network. Sitting back, glass in hand, he sat back to enjoy some cartoons while he waited...
Having watched the final procedures to have the Ingenuus as well as its two Corvo escorts locked down on Valetta from space, Geneviève Mercier made a move to dock her own Scimitar as well. There was a little bit of paper-juggling to do before anything could be done about those ships. First and foremost, she had to inform Cinzia that it was merely the leading ship that they needed, thus she could discharge the rest after they had their records of the system wiped. With the automatic docking procedure initated, Gen grabbed her PDA and sent the girl a small text detailing what she wanted of her. This was doubtlessly going to be the most crigeworthy comm to ever be sent, given how litttle there seemed to actually be in Cinzia's pretty little head. Why was she even with the CID? Did some rich family buy her in? Given what Gen knew of Maltese society at this point, she wouldn't be surprised at all.
Once docked, she watched the hangar doors close behind her, and the telltale hiss of the pressure being restored in the room. Once receiving green light, she opened the hatch of the vessel and left over the little bridge that had been extended towards the vessel. A man in grey uniform bearing the insignia of the CID approached her and have her a court nod, something that always irked Gen, since she was really sure that he would bow if she were actually Maltese.
"Madame Administrator, the crew of the leading ship has been taken into custody as per standard protocol and the captain of the vessel has been brought to the diplomats' quarters. There is a pending request of the dockmaster to have the unknown vessel removed, since the Arclight was scheduled for refueling at this time and there has been a communiqué sent to the Council over this incident," he told her matter-of-factly, something that Gen quite admired about this man. Such sleight of tongue.
With a nod, Gen acknowledged his words and beckoned for him to lead the way out of the hangar. "Please tell the Arclight that it may reroute to Venice for that. I don't rightly know which communiqué you speak of, but if it is deemed necessary, I'll probably receive it to be answered. Or not. In which case I don't care." It was probably not the best lingo or attitude to have in her position, but she really couldn't be assed with this right now. She should just have Cinzia answer this for her and watch the world burn. "By the way: Do announce me to this man in the diplomats' chambers. I don't want to barge in like that. Really improper."
With the man leading her deeper into Valetta's insides, they both fell silent. Gen had never been here and was thus totally reliant on her tourguide bringing her where she wanted, though it was cool to turn off the brain for once and follow. Approximately twenty minutes later, Gen found herself in front of set of double doors. Her tourguide didn't need an invitation to unlock the quarters for her, and with a satisfying click, he nodded towards her, signalling that she might now enter.
"What is he even doing inside? I don't really fancy 'im throwing things at me."
"Drinking alcohol and watching cartoons, Madame Administrator," he replied in the most serious tone imaginable, and Gen couldn't help but chortle at that. It was the closest this guy had ever come to saying something like blackjack and hookers.
Figuring that there was little use in waiting around, Gen slowly pushed open the door of the room. Okay, no flying objects, which was good. Didn't even look half bad, to be honest. A little too clean for her taste, too sterile, but it did remind her of her uncle's estate on Lyon, albeit with less dead animal parts draped on the walls and ground as trophies. Gen wasn't against hunting animals for sport, but this entire trophy thing always seemed really fetishy to her and...
Shaking her head, she cleared her throat as she took in figure sitting in front of an enormous TV set watching a Maltese kids show with a glass of something likely Cardamine-laced in hand. Great. She really hoped the dude wasn't drugged now. "I reckon that you are the one with ownership of the vessel that 'as been towed into Valetta's drydock, si?" she spoke, though it was evident by her accent that she wasn't Maltese. She approached the conference table, the little blonde woman of approximately 1.6 metres in height.
A dirt path, winding down a small hill towards a valley and vast field of light brown, almost orange in color. Silent except for a hint of a whistle of wind. Looking closer to the ground, the pebbles on the path begin to vibrate, and after a few moments begin their dance into the air. A whoosh, as a large bipedal beast rushes by down the path. Feathered almost, though hard to make out as it rushes by. As it begins disappearing down the path, a trail of dust and footprints in it's wake, a snarling is heard approaching. A low growl, coupled with a hiss-like sound. A split second later a smaller but more slender beast scrambles past. Black in color, with bright yellow eyes and vicious teeth laid bare.
The black beast is in pursuit, eyes fixated on the bipedal animal ahead. As it closes the pace, the bipedal creature cuts to the right towards a cliff face that marks the border of the valley. Slipping on the dirt, the black creature stumbles and lets out a loud roar, angered at it's loss of pace. Turning it's large head to see behind it, the bipedal creature let's out a cry of relief. "Meep meep!" Hearing the sound of... joy? No, more amusement than anything, the black beast rushes towards it's target, more eager than ever to catch it's prize. A outcropping of rock is seen, an archway jetting out from the cliff face. The bipedal creature scurries towards it, and yet stops in it's tracks shortly after running under the arch.
There it is. The Black beast's target. His shoulders lower, his back legs extending even more as he picks up the pace. 20 meters. 15 meters. 10 meters. The beast can smell the creature ahead. The moment comes, and the beasts back legs lunge downward, sending the beast flying forwards, front claws extended. A smile is almost seen as the beast is about to...
BAM!!! The beast slams into a rock face, painted to look like an archway. A distinctive "meep meep" is heard...
Crying with laughter at the cartoon, Finn doubles forward as the drink he had been enjoying squirts out of his nose. As he tries reaching for something with which to wipe his face, the doors to the room open up and a woman walks in. Making her way to the table in the room, Finn tries to collect himself, though liquid can be seen still dripping out of his nose. She asks him a question, of which he barely makes out.
"What? Oh, I'm sorry. One second."
Standing up and wiping the remainder of the spill off his face, he casually walks over to the conference table, where the woman waited.
"Yes, yes I am. Finn McCool. A pleasure. Forgive my bluntness, but you umm... you don't sound nor appear to be Maltese. Not that there is anything wrong with that, just... didn't expect that."
With the man Finn McCool evidently struggling to regain his bearings after laughing, Geneviève waited patiently by the table until he would recuperate. The cartoon was really irritating, if she was perfectly honest. The passage currently playing across the screen was thankfully not heavy on dialogue, but Gen very well knew that she would struggle understanding Maltese. She hadn't yet sat down, and wasn't sure if they should and... that bloody cartoon!
"One moment," she told him while moving to retrieve the remote to turn off the TV for now. "That is probably easier." The fluid spilling out of his orifices had served to sully his top a little, which caused her silent bemusement. Turning the remote in her hand, she cantered back to the table, a noticable limp in her step. "You're right, I'm not Maltese, sadly," she admitted before lowering herself onto a chair daintily, turning to the side and beckoning for McCool to take a seat next to her so they'd be facing each other this way. "My name is Marietta Mercante, the Administrator of the Corsica Intelligence Division. Don't let the title intimidate you; You are not technically detained. This shall merely serve as a debriefing on what 'appened in Omicron-85."
She gave him a polite, yet trained smile while tapping the table, before looking out the window onto the vista on Malta briefly. "You seemed to labour under the notion that I wanted to be unduly mean to you, Signor McCool, from what I gathered in space, but if I may be blunt: If I wanted to be, you would be plucking Cardamine on my fields right now." The idea was sort of funny. What about the ship, though? Maybe make it a requisite or a gift to the Spirits. "And yes, I do own land on Malta, although I was not born there."
Withdrawing a small PDA from her pocket, she slid it over to McCool. If he were to open the contents, he would find it containing only four files, which were copies of transmissions.
My name is Debby Wittleman an executive secretary for the Confederation of Freeports. We have been informed by a member of the Ingenuus Research Group that the National Council had detained the Lead Administrator Finn McCool. The Confederation is highly upset about the lack of communication in this matter. We request to know why he was detained, and we request to know why he has not been allowed to communicate with us.
Regards,
Debby Wittleman
Confederation of Freeports
I must admit: I am scared by the level of misinformedness, Signora Wittleman.
Not only do you seem to believe that we 'eld any malicious intend towards you, but your terse tone suggests that you presume ulterior motives in this. Please, let me dispell the mist clouds your judgement right now and fill you in on the right idea.
Three ships bearing the designation of the Ingenuus Research Group 'ave been appre'ended in the system with the name Omicron-85. While they did 'ave an active agreement, albeit unsubstantiated with evidence for now, with the good Signora Espinosa to enter this system, the Maltese Code of Conduct clearly states that there was still an escort of the administration necessary, ergo a Cross or National Council entity — which would also 'ave needed informing prior to entering the system, I might add. Such was not the case, and the ships were therefore brought back to Valetta to 'ave their recordings of the system wiped and Signor McCool is currently very comfortably waiting for 'is debriefing before 'e may take 'is admittedly pretty ship and return to 'is work.
While I 'ope that clears things up, 'ere is an extract of the particular passage violated, and I would implore you to read the Maltese Code of Conduct again and adhere to it. Something like this self-inflicted misunderstanding can very easily lead to something worse.
Maltese Code of Conduct, +4-5 // Omicron-85 Wrote:+4-5 // Omicron-85
All vessels identifying as Outcasts are granted access to Bastia Station.
Foreign units are only granted access to Omicron-85 on a case-to-case basis. Any foreigner granted access must be escorted by a pilot belonging to entities listed under 1-3 at any given time. Any independent travel without escort is highly forbidden and punishable by the immediate destruction of the vessel and all data gathered on the Omicron-85 system.
All unauthorized entry into the Omicron-85 system is considered trespassing on military ground, and warrants the immediate execution of the trespasser.
Regardless of your laws it is still a violation of Mr. McCools basic human rights to
1. Detain Him Secretly
2. Deny him rapid and regular access to lawyers, doctors and relatives
3. Deny him an effective legal process so that he may challenge his detention
While the Confederation recognizes that Malta is under no obligation to follow international human rights standards. We do request that Mr. McCool be granted immediate access to a Maltese legal representative and further more than an Ingenuus Research Vessel be allowed to bring a member to observe the debriefing process. These two steps will show the Confederation your intentions and 'Dispell the mist clouds' of our current concern.
Regards,
Debby Wittleman
Confederation of Freeports
Well, if you 'ad read the extract I sent you, you should be aware that the three ships should 'ave been destroyed on sight. The fact that the three vessels weren't should speak volumes of the CID's angelic patience with these entities, given that Corvo's are also forbidden to enter Maltese space. Since Signor McCool is not detained and neither are there any charges, I don't see why 'e would need a lawyer. All that 'appens is that 'e will be told what 'e did wrong and to not to do it again. Afterwards, 'e will be released together with 'is ship, yet sans the recordings of the system since those were illegally obtained. You may sent a person to Valetta, though I'm afraid the debriefing will already 'ave concluded by then and your Signor McCool delivered to the Ingenuus.
As she slipped him the PDA, Finn's mind began processing this woman in front of him, wondering how someone that wasn't of Maltese origin could be an Administrator of the Corsica intelligence Division. He'd have to inquire about that later, given the chance. Looking down at the PDA in front of him, he let out an audible chuckle.
"Can't say I'm surprised t' be honest. When the head of the Confederation of Freeports as well as the Director of the Ingenuus Research Group goes missing or doesn't check in, people go on the defensive. Especially Debby."
Mentioning her name caused him to chuckle once again and shake his head. Looking back up at Marietta, he couldn't help but have his mind wander again about her. A strange attraction was present. Not sexual in nature, but more respect and curiosity regarding her station as the head of an intelligence division.
"You'll have t' excuse my tone while in space though. It was a shock t' when prior interactions were favorable considering our work on Ibiza, t' all of a sudden receive such hostile tones and speech directed towards us. I believe the words "Espionage" and "Criminal" were used? I'm not sure how much you are aware of the project we are working on within Ibiza, but the basis revolves around the central core of your Storta-class vessels, which I believe are only created within the Razgriz Abyss. Any knowledge or information on the gravitational anomalies concerning the abyss are paramount for this project."
Sitting more straight, with a serious look washing over his face, he continued.
"As I have mentioned prior, there was no ill-intent behind my actions, of which I take full responsibility for and my crew should not be held liable. As mentioned, while making a stop at Ibiza, the Ingenuus array detected a fluctuation in the nearby system, specifically in regards the Abyss. My first mistake was t' assume we had access t' gather readings on it. We had in fact scanned the Abyss some time ago, and was met by a MNS-Syracuse that permitted our presence there, without any hostile tone. It was wrongly assumed that after the transition of power, that such understandings continued on. "
Finishing, her turned to take a sip of the drink he had brought with him to the table. Letting out a deep breath after finishing his sip, he looked back down at the logs...
She listened attentively to his words, letting him have the PDA for a moment. It wasn't like there was anything of note on it anyways. It was evident that McCool wasn't really versed with Maltese customs, and while she herself had only been here for a small period of time, it seemed like she needed to explain a few things to him.
"Right," she began, folding her hands in her lap and tracing a thumb along the nail of the other. "This entire thing makes me wonder 'ow much you actually know of Malta, Signor..." she trailed off, arcing an eyebrow at him, "Director McCool. A big part of the population is religious and Omicron-85 'ouses not just some of our greatest wonders, but also the pathway into the Nomad Worlds. Our proximity to them makes it unwise to anger them unnecessarily by allowing strangers to traverse their turf and possibly bring back incubi into our ranks. That, and some of the people present might 'ave been religious and taken offence to your presence, thus a 'ard stance was necessary to appease."
There was a knock at the door, and upon Geneviève's invitation, the same agent that had been escorting her here entered and gave her his infuriating nod again.
"Madame Administrator," he greeted her, ignoring McCool. "Another two communiqués in regards to the situation." Thus he withdrew another small PDA from his person and handed it to Gen, who dismissed him silently and he left the room again.
Taking her time to read over the transscripts briefly, she hummed for a moment. "Signora Espinosa claims ignorance of 'aving granted you access to Omicron-85, yet says you were welcomed to Alpha and Beta. Debby wants to ask whether you'd like a date on sunday. You should reply to 'er," Gen stated, pointing at the other PDA in his hand. "If you would, you are free to record something and send it 'er way before 'er poor 'eart breaks. I won't keep you much longer, I promise."
Watching her as she reviewed the new PDA in her hand, Finn thought about what she said about the restricted system. He had heard rumor of some of the more fanatical in the area that revered the Nomads, but the way she phrased seemed like it was a cornerstone to one of their chief religions. Coupled with the fact that he was not aware of the religious importance of this system, his shoulders dropped slightly as he turned his attention to the moment.
"You have me at a loss for words t' be frank. I obviously knew that the Omicron 85 system was of importance, but from the knowledge provided t' me it was purely technological in nature. I was not aware of the religious significance of the system. Had I known..."
He paused and gave a unpleasant grin, with an embarrassed look that followed a split second later.
"That is quite interesting though regarding Espinosa, as I distinctly remember being in that system and speaking with her counterpart, Mario Olmos, who showed no objection t' our presence there. As I said though, this has all been a misunderstanding, and one that had more careful thought been employed, could've been avoided. I do not wish t' disrespect the Nacions laws, nor sought anything other than information that would in turn benefit the project that is taking place on Ibiza."
Looking down at the PDA in front of him, he chuckled, visualizing Debby on the war path trying to find him. Knowing she would never ask him out for a date, he grinned even more at the subtle joke that Marietta made a moment prior. Typing up a response, he reviewed it once more, then set down the PDA and looked back up, smiling.
"There. That should reduce the chance of a heart attack on Debby's part. Hopefully her heart doesn't break too much."
He chuckled again as he said that, an expression of "I know what you did" washing over Finn's face. Leaning back into the chair, crossing his legs, Finn raised an eyebrow as he continued.
"So Marie, I am intrigued by your story on how you came t' be the Administrator of the CID. Care t' share?"
I'm fine god damnit. Don't send in a fleet, don't come in guns blazing. I'm fine. Been enjoying some Maltese cartoons and some drinks here, and currently in talks with one of their administrators. No harm has come to me, no torture or other malicious acts. The Ingenuus is locked down, her crew safe as well, though I haven't actually seen them in a while. I'll inquire further.
I should be leaving Maltese space hopefully soon, though who knows where such conversations currently underway will lead. Tell Rachel she has nothing to worry about, though I'd imagine she's more concerned over the Ingenuus than myself.
It was understandable that McCool didn't quite know about Maltese religious tendencies, but there had been no actual harm done, thus Geneviève held up a hand to signal there was no need to apologize.
"All that Signora Espinosa said was that she couldn't recall 'aving granted you escorted access. This may well mean that she simply forgot and in doubt, I am willing to presume someone's innocence until proven guilty. The Signora is still a rather influential figure in the religious community, I would imagine, and thus 'er word in your favour does weigh something. You were working in her favour, that much is certain, although I am unaware of any dealings on Ibiza, as that's not really what I'm supposed to be doing. There is little need to explain yourself anymore. We got a good picture."
With him busy typing up a response to his inferior, Gen leaned back and looked out the window to occupy herself until he would finish his response. One he was, she took the PDA in hand, stood up, walked to the door, knocked and delivered the small device to someone on the outside, speaking a few hushed words to them. Returning, she went over to where Finn had retrieved his drink and poured herself a glass of still water before assuming her seat by his side again.
"Your message will be sent now," she began, tracing her finger along the rim of the glass for a moment before picking it up and taking a demure sip. "I take it you're not a religious man, Signor? It honors you that you still exercise the expected degree of respect. Please, my name is not Marie, though." There was a certain degree of decisiveness in the way she looked at him with her blue eyes after saying this. "As for 'ow I reached my position, I guess they're probably different than yours for your own. I served an influential family for a while, and with enough effort, I was honored to be given this position once the opportunity arose."
She placed down the glass, curious as to whether he would believe her to have been a slave with what she had given him.
Listening intently, Finn continued sipping his drink. He'd have to ask her what he was drinking exactly, though the conversation at hand held the majority of his attention.
"Well, t' answer your first question, no. I am not religious. While I respect those that are, It is hard for me t' accept a blanket 'well it is this way because of this entity'. I'm drawn t' discovery, and knowledge. Many religious people I have met are content not finding out answers for themselves, and would rather accept the easy way out so t' speak. Not saying all religious people fall under that category, but that has been my experience."
Watching her movements, to see if he had struck a nerve or if she agreed with him, he continued.
"Now, when you say served... You may have t' elaborate, given that I am aware slavery is commonplace amongst the population here. So 'serving' an influential family can denote multiple conclusions. Plus, I find it hard t' imagine a former slave could ascend t' such a stature... but hey, I've been wrong before!"
As he chuckled, he felt more equally unsure and intrigued, curious as to her backstory and how she came to be in such a position.
It was quite transparent to Gen that Finn wanted to bait her into revealing things that might be juicy. She didn't think he did it maliciously or even on purpose necessarily, but this man was quite nosy.
"Eh, do we really want to discuss religion 'ere?" she asked with an eyebrow raised, but in a calm voice. His words had apparently not hit a nerve. "I mean, I can't really argue that blind belief might be detrimental, which is why the Cross is not really in power anymore, although its decline in power was long coming, as it seemed. To be fair, I only 'ave a superficial understanding of 'ow the faith works or 'ow its tenets may look like. The 'Spirits'-" She does air quotes. "-are quite real, though."
Scratching her nose, she figured she had told him enough of that. There was little use speaking about something she hardly knew anything of.
"No, I wasn't brought 'ere as a worker. Those mostly come from the poorest reaches of Liberty society. Pittsburgh, Manhattan. I know since I needed to procure some myself lately. The moral virtue is debatable, though I personally believe that this is way more merciful than letting them asphyxiate in the Boron mines on Pittsburgh." This was sort of besides the topic, she realized, shrugging at the moral question in the room. "No, I'm from Gallia. Sirius doesn't quite like us, and it was actually 'ere that I found some nice people, even though Malta and the Crown are in armed conflict. That's basically 'ow it started, without reciting an entire biography to you." And that was it. She wasn't really keen on sharing more.