Reaper of Rishiri

[Ramke]

---

It was clear that the crew weren't taking any chances - the Dromedary was surrounded by armed marines as soon as the hangar doors closed and the hangar re-pressurised. No matter what viewports the freighter's passengers looked from, they saw weapon barrels pointed at them. Claire could understand why; She would have ordered the same thing if she had never left in the first place. A Sirian freighter isn't what you'd like to see entering a Gallic ship, especially after the recent incident. The noble took a deep breath, hoping to calm herself before she had to step out into the spotlight. It didn't really work - her heart continued racing, and the unnatural silence from no longer hearing the engines rumble served to only made it worse.

"What's the worst that could happen?" she thought to herself. They wouldn't shoot her on sight, or so she had hoped. The pilot eventually turned to her, and she didn't need any more of a sign that she shouldn't make them wait any longer. She nodded, muttered "Merci" and made her way towards the disembarking point. Another pair of Outcasts greeted her in the cargo bay, preparing to unload what rations and tools they've gathered for the ship. The woman motioned one over, and requested him to open the cargo bay. They seemed to be in a more optimistic mood than the pilot, likely due to not knowing the number of guns that were pointed at them. She gulped as the man walked away towards the control panel.

It didn't take long for the cargo bay platform to kick into motion, slowly descending and revealing the noble to the crew of the ship. She was wearing clothes befitting of Gallic nobility, a formal noblewoman's uniform of typical Gallic design. It set her apart from the Outcasts that were still unbuckling the cargo like a a sheep in a wolf's den. As the marines came into vision, she froze entirely. While her recent adventures have exposed her to a lot, she was not used to having so many guns pointed at her. Scanning through the marines in front of her, she made out a familiar figure - the commander that she saw on the bridge during their rescue, clad in the same ballistic armour as in the fight against Council operatives. With his hands crossed behind his back, he was cautiously observing the situation.

With a loud clunk, the platform fully descended onto the hangar floor. Despite all of her instincts to not move a muscle, she had to show them that this wasn't some kind of Outcast trick. With heavy anxiety in her chest, she slowly started walking towards the commander. Nobody else followed as she made her way towards him, and she could see him motioning some orders. Not aware of military signals, the noble simply dismissed that they were adapting their guard to the situation and letting themselves be more at ease.

"Arrêt!" one of the marines shouted, raising his weapon at the noble as she approached. She stopped abruptly with clear surprise on her face, not exactly expecting this kind of reaction. She raised her hands, showing that she had no ill intent. The marine approached cautiously, still keeping his guard until he was in speaking range. The woman lowered her hands and began to address the marine.

"Bonjour, I wish to speak with your co-" she was abruptly interrupted as the marine grabbed her arm, letting go of his weapon as it started hanging off of its sling. The noble was turned around roughly, and not long after felt cold metal wrap around her wrists followed by a click. This was the worst case scenario.

"What is the meaning of this? I'm not some common criminal for you to treat me this way! I'm unarmed and brought a freighter full of supplies!" she exclaimed as the marine grabbed her by the arm and started guiding her towards the hallways leading deeper into the ship. The commander she wanted to speak with turned to head the same way, making them slowly trail behind.

The other marines began to slowly approach the ship. She turned her head back at the freighter and saw the Outcasts raising their arms, visibly no longer in an optimistic mood.

---