Sieurs, Dames et Inconnus

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[font=Agency FB]A soft knocking came at the heavy, wooden door of the Grand Marechal's office. She had just sat down at her desk again, and let out a rather audible sigh; as they always say, she thought, "no rest for the wicked"....

"Oui, what's the matter? Come in, and be quick about it."

The door knob turned, and Blaise peeked his head in.

[color=#99FF99]"Ma Grand Marechal, there are a few things that may be of interest to you. If you have a moment, that is..."

She eyed the bottom of a wine bottle at the edge of the doorway; it was only the wine that saved Blaise from a 10-minute lecture about her workload. Two quartz wineglasses were set on her desktop, and she motioned for him to enter.

"Roussette de Savoie, I think you'll enjoy it." Blaise uncorked the bottle and filled both glasses before taking a seat in front of her desk.

LaCroix took a long sip from her glass before setting it back down. "I always do, Mersenne. Now that you've successfully bribed me for my time, what did you wish to speak about?"

Blaise retrieved a datapad from his coat and slid it across the desk top. "The first report from the Naval Research Institute, concerning the shipment of what the Sirians call 'artifacts' from the messieurs of the IND."

The Grand Marechal picked up the datapad and read through it, her head resting on her left hand while her right hand tapped on the pad's surface. After a minute that seemed like an eternity, she looked up to Blaise.

"And? As much as I enjoy some quality literature, tell me what they found."

"Nothing beyond the superficial, ma Grand Marechal. They've determined they're composed of a synthetic crystalline lattice with alternating facets in a ratio of 1 to 1.618. SEM analysis of the surface details displayed an uncannily-precise structure with a margin of error less that 0.001%, despite the supposed age of each item. Emission tests have determined that they're inert; as far as the institute is concerned, they're nothing more than elegant rocks."

Blaise took a sip from his own glass as the Grand Marechal stared back at the datapad, and sighed; he knew long beforehand that this was precisely what she didn't want to hear.

"Somehow, I feel as though we've been stiffed..."

"Concerning the Sirians, I wouldn't put it beyond them. Regardless...all may not be lost just yet. I've read some of the debriefings from monsieur Giroux, and his new 'friend'. Perhaps she can make heads or tails of these so-called rocks."

"He's already busy playing chauffeur, and it would be nice if she actually stayed in her residence..."

LaCroix lit a cigarette for herself, breathing in deep before exhaling a pillar of blue-gray smoke that suffused the air above her.

"Options are always good, ma Grand Marechal. We should use this option before she makes herself scarce."

Blaise emptied his glass before standing up, and nodding to LaCroix. She returned the nod, and poured another glass of wine for herself. Blaise was already gone by the time she set the bottle back down.

---

Maybe some day, they'll see a hero is just a man who knows he's free.