Tour Compendium

[Coliz]

Cannes Resort Station, Provence Autonomous System

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Observation deck

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Dear Guests of the Rheinland Empire,

If you are receiving this Neural-Net message, it means you’ve recently booked either a luxury cruise to Gallia or a delightful stay at our newest resort in Provence: Cannes. Let us begin by saying—what a pleasure it is to have you aboard.

As hosts, it is our solemn duty and utter joy to ensure your visit to the Gallic Union is nothing short of unforgettable. Gallia has, until recently, remained a bit of a recluse on the Sirius social circuit, and for many of our new guests—particularly those unfamiliar with our quaint eccentricities—the first encounter may be... let us say, bracing.

Which is precisely why we have prepared a tailored Travel Advisory, crafted especially for our esteemed Rheinland clientele. This short guide contains practical tips, etiquette pointers, and, sadly, a selection of the more inventive scams that seem to target Sirian tourists with an alarming sense of optimism.

We warmly invite you to leaf through this guide before embarking on your vacation, so that your arrival in Cannes may be as smooth and splendid as a well-poured champagne.

As always, your comfort is our command. Our travel agencies, ground staff, and on-board crew are at your disposal, ready to assist with any inquiries—be they existential or entirely mundane.

On behalf of the Orbital Spa & Cruise Executive Board, we wish you safe travels and a magnificent stay in Gallia.

Yours, delightfully,
Sub Director Hector Balzac,
OS&C Regional Manager for Gallia

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"Right. Smarmy enough, I think. Let’s keep that as the intro."

"You think they’ll actually read it?"

"I’m quite optimistic. The Rheinlanders are the only guests who actually follow instructions when given. You know those safety leaflets we stuff into every cabin? The ones with the emergency procedures, life pod diagrams, and what to do in the event of gravitational failure?"

"Yeah, what about them?"

"Well, apparently, no one reads them. Ever. Except in cabins occupied by Rheinlanders. And not just read—they’ve been handled. Used. And not, mind you, as rolling papers for Synthetic Marijuana."

"I don’t know what’s more surprising—the fact they read those utterly pointless things or the fact that we actually ran market research on them."

"Moving on. Let’s get to the scams, see if we’ve got all of them covered."

SCAMS

Unfortunately, the grand tradition of exploiting tourists for coin, credits, or—in some particularly inspired cases—ransom, is alive and well even within the esteemed borders of the Union. We consider it a top priority to reduce these events as much as possible, with the diligent assistance of the Gendarmerie and the ever-stylish but surprisingly well-armed Corse protection teams.

Please remain vigilant. If anything seems suspicious, contact our security staff immediately. They are easy to identify, properly credentialed, and very polite—at least until they aren’t.

Here are the most common and creatively shameless scams:

“Space Vineyards”
Vineyards, as one might guess, require soil, sun, time, and a complete absence of vacuum. If someone—particularly around Marseille—offers you a private tour of “subterranean space-grown vines,” what they’re really offering is a one-way excursion to a Brigand base, followed by a delightful wait in a dimly lit room until your relatives send money. Politely decline and report immediately.

“Private Shuttle Services”
Any claim involving priority boarding, skipping the queue, or docking directly aboard is a fabrication. Orbital Spa & Cruise only offers these luxuries to Princess- and Emperor-class passengers, and only by request. All other classes must board via communal Dorado-class ferries, undergo standard document checks, and ascend to orbit through proper channels.
There have been incidents involving individuals posing as Orbital staff who escorted guests from Baden Baden only to detain them for ransom. If someone offers to make your boarding experience "special," decline with dignity and call security.

“Organised Tours”
The only officially sanctioned tours departing from Cannes are operated by the following agencies: H| Horizons, IS/ Imperial Shipping, Bouvet| IDF, and OS&C| Orbital Spa & Cruise.
Any other so-called "travel company," particularly if based in Marseille or Marne, is either illegitimate or tragically uninsured. Orbital accepts no responsibility for bodily harm, missing credits, or suddenly acquired marriages resulting from such excursions.

“Circuit Racing”
Unless you are a certified SGRCA pilot, you are not allowed to race on the Monte Carlo circuit near Marseille. Visitors may observe the track, and indeed may book a ride in one of our racer-class vessels—with a professional pilot at the controls.
Anyone offering you a dubious racer for a few credits is, at best, an opportunist, and at worst, plotting your financial ruin (to say nothing of potential splattering across the asteroid field).

“Hypnotainment & Nox”
There are no therapeutic, medical, or legal variants of these substances. None. Any offer to sell you these items is illegal and should be reported immediately to the Gendarmerie at Cannes.

“XXX-rated Holotainment”
Adult content in Gallia is available through legal, regulated channels—licensed holographic boutiques and select red-light establishments in New Paris and Cannes. Should you find yourself approached by someone offering “exclusive” material on the black market, be assured that what they are actually peddling is either counterfeit, corrupted, or (most likely) embedded with an illegal Hypnotainment protocol.

"Wait, are there really still people falling for the asteroid vineyard thing?"

"You’d be surprised. And we even know exactly where they’re taken. We could post a shuttle and just bring them back every Thursday."

"Still better than scraping someone’s remains off the rocks after a failed turn at Curve 4."

"True. At least the Brigands occasionally offer a drink and a laugh."

"Right, now let’s move on to style and etiquette—because those barbarians are going to need it."

STYLE AND ETIQUETTE

The Gallic people have been unjustly described by Sirians as “closed” and “backwards,” when in fact they are merely proud—proud of their history and their customs. They may seem distant at first, but once you gain their trust, you’ll find yourself basking in a rare warmth of human connection—something not often encountered in the wider colonies.

There are, however, certain unwritten rules of conduct. Master these, and your welcome will be notably less frosty.

Food: Eating in Gallia is not simply about nourishment. It is a ritual, a social dance, a discipline of refined pleasure. Even the humblest snack is expected to arrive with grace and a touch of flair. Here, form is not the enemy of function—it is the function. Expect multiple courses, never single-plate meals. And for the love of all that is culinary, do not badger the waitstaff to “speed things up”—unless, of course, your station is on fire. Meals are to be savoured, slowly, with reverence. You’re on holiday. Live like it.

Wine: Wine in Gallia is not a beverage; it is a cornerstone of civilisation. Thousands of labels. Hundreds of varietals. Reds, whites, rosés, still, sparkling, dessert, and naturally, champagne . To mishandle wine here is to insult centuries of tradition. If you don’t know what to order, don’t panic—ask the sommelier. It is their life’s calling, and they will thank you for sparing them the trauma of watching you pair a rosé with andouillettes.

Under no circumstances should you ask for a red wine chilled—or worse, request ice. It is said that with every ice cube dropped into a glass of Bordeaux, a vintner dies a little inside.

Language: Unless you are genuinely fluent in Gallic, do not attempt to speak it with locals. They will assume you are mocking their rich, melodious tongue. Smile politely, indicate you are a foreigner, and all will be well. The staff in restaurants and cafés are generally prepared for your presence—if not always thrilled about it.

Politics: There are wounds—deep ones—in the Gallic national memory. Discussions surrounding alleged authoritarianism, the glassing of Leeds, the Royal Family, or the recent Kusari invasion should be strictly avoided. Your waiter may be charming, but that charming glint in his eye can fade rapidly if you blunder into post-war diplomacy before dessert.

“Well, the rest of it should be basic common sense,” Luc muttered, reviewing the final paragraph. “They shouldn’t need a pamphlet to figure it out.”

“Let’s hope so,” Hector replied, before pausing see Luc to sniff the air theatrically.

“You smell that, Hector?” Luc asked, his brow furrowing.

“What?”

“The scent of poverty, barbarism… and sheer ignorance. It’s approaching.”

Hector, who had already wandered several paces ahead, burst into a roar of laughter.

“Oh Luc,” he called back, “what I smell is a profit spike. And remember: pecunia non olet!”

“What?”

“Money doesn’t stink, Luc. The Romans figured that out ages ago.”

Hector kept walking, leaving Luc to contemplate this sudden encounter with classical wisdom. His gaze rose to the stylised silhouette of an Enterprise-class liner, its Orbital Spa & Cruise logo gleaming in the sunlight of Provence.

“At worst,” he muttered to himself, “it’ll smell like Rheinbier.”