Planet New Paris is considered the jewel of Gallic space, but the inhabitants of Planet Orleans believe otherwise - and how not to agree, flying over wild grassy heaths, old mountain ranges and numerous settlements, harmoniously becoming part of the environment, as if continuing it, rather than displacing it as it happens on the more pompous New Paris.
Exactly here, on Planet Orleans, one of the Maréchals of the Gallic Union, Antonin de Lusignan, had made his fortress-residence, and that was where the shuttle with the important guest on board was headed, though she could quite rightly consider herself a prisoner.
The fortress was impressive in its size: in fact, it was a small military city, with its own spaceport, capable of receiving a ship up to the size of a passenger liner, or a Triumph-class destroyer, equipped to fly in the atmosphere. There were ground-to-air batteries around the perimeter of the base and some more impressive-sized ground-to-space batteries, apparently there was also a shield protecting against attacks with energy and kinetic weapons, but it was now turned off to save energy and avoid radiation exposure from the operation of the generator.
The shuttle, with the noise of its engines, was coming in for a landing - one of the pads was vacant, awaiting arrival. There, too, was the armed convoy, gleaming white armor with black inserts, somewhere covered with the gold and blue lines typical of Union troopers. In their hands were the latest model energy rifles, and judging by the bluish glow of the indicator, they were in paralysis mode: when energy causes a health-safe brief short circuit, putting the target, whether a living being or a robot, in a paralysis-like state. If the indicator were red, the stream of energy spewed by the rifles would destroy the target, roasting it alive.
The squad of five troopers was led by an officer from the Security Bureau - easily recognizable by the white tunic of their otherwise black uniforms. The shuttle ramp slowly lowered, and the guest, accompanied by her escort, was led out of the shuttle.
With a nod to the convoy, the Bureau officer stepped closer. His almost platinum hair was neatly, uniformly styled, and his green eyes looked at the woman with indifference,
"Welcome to Orleans, Madame de Lorraine," said him with voice the most ordinary - slightly high pitched, but in moderation. "The Maréchal has been expecting you, we will escort you to him." - It was not a question or a suggestion, just a statement of fact.
Changing convoys from the shuttle, the troopers took Juliette around and led her to a nearby railroad train station running between the Citadel, the largest building of the place, and remote points in the fortress like this one. As they passed the open training grounds, everyone could see the trainers mercilessly harassing the recruits who came from all over the system and even neighboring Champagne - it also served as a training camp for ordinary military and regular naval personnel, but not for officers or members of the Security Bureau, though they were present.
***
Soon, they arrived at the station inside the Citadel, and under the same escort de Lorraine was escorted to her quarters: a spacious room overlooking a small lake, with glass that could withstand a grenade blast. A simple but comfortable bed, a desk with access to NeuralNet only by the approval of the fortress commandant or any of his aides, a closet and several floor flowers, representatives of the local flora.
"Get some rest. In the evening you will meet the Maréchal." said the Bureau officer before locking her in her room.
