The planet of Leeds devoured by an infernal atmosphere as the forces of both the Gallic Armies and the Bretonian Insurgents clashed repeatedly throughout the planet’s streets.
This spaceport, an area surrounded by an amalgamation of war torn buildings and amenities maintain the transit of gallic forces between the surface of Leeds and the cold void of the space, transitioning manpower from one battlefront to another.
The idea tranquility and relaxation in such a chaotic place would seem impossible to comprehend. Not to the gauls and the bretonians who once lived in this area, however, as the Spaceport would house a bar named “ Cheap Freedom “ .
This bar, a modest, underground installation consisting of a few rooms, was housing any would be gallic soldier, looking to find solitude from the war torn atmosphere of the streets as he would pass through an entrance pitted in one of the nearby buildings, finding the bar right beneath it.
Underground and as such, safe from enemy artillery, as well able to provide crude entertainment and relaxation, despite it being afflicted by the effects of war, was used by any soldier who would either want to have a conversation with his brothers in arms, a party, rally or plan further incursions, and even perhaps some more extravagant activities such as barfights.
Simply put, the bar was the ideal “Home away from home” for the gaul soldiers as they found a place of tranquility on the war torn streets of Leeds.
(08-10-2015, 07:03 PM)Antonio- Wrote: King Eduard is the greatest
Few bars had had such a disappointing launch as the Cheap Freedom. Although the place itself was nice enough, it wasn't getting anywhere near the patronage that had been predicted for it. The few occupants mostly sat alone, staring vacantly into their drinks and generally looking glum. The atmosphere was dreary, dim - and, above all, silent.
That changed when the metal door was flung open, slamming into the wall with a thunderous BANG. "Écoutez!" barked an imperious voice, as a five-foot annoyance loudly announced its arrival. "Soldiers of the Royal Navy, this facility is provided primarily for your enjoyment, not as a place to hold silent vigil and mope around!"
Lucie gazed around haughtily, standing on her tiptoes so that she could see the whole room clearly. She didn't see anyone from the Primary Fleet here at all, which wasn't helping matters. It was possible some were hiding out of sight, but she expected to see the place buzzing with them. "I want to see things in here change!" she demanded, fixating an unfortunate sous-lieutenant with an icy glare, who was beginning to regret sitting so close to the door. "There is to be more talking and socialising with your brothers and sisters-in-arms, and less making friends with endless glasses of wine!"
With that, she made her way to the other side of the room, plonking herself down at an empty table. She whipped out her cigar case, prompting the barman to surreptitiously reach below the desk and crank the air conditioning up to maximum. It was rumoured that the General's cigars could fumigate entire buildings by themselves, and he didn't fancy people passing out into their drinks.
Gradually, a few chairs were moved around, and a low hum of conversation began to settle over the room at last - although Lucie suspected it was mostly people saying bad things about her. Which was fine, as long as it got people motivated to chat. And, as a bonus, if she actually heard anything she could enjoy herself by chewing the perpetrator out.
She exhaled slowly, blowing smoke everywhere and wondering when someone actually worth her time would bother to show up.
A man, quietly slumbering in a corner was rudely awakened by the thunderous sound of a door being kicked open. He looked up with bleary eyes for the source of that noise, finding a diminutive woman as the source of his annoyance. Scratching his beard, he quickly surmised that this was an important woman, her pompous movements and shrill voice made that much clear at least.
The man might have been tired and a little drunk, but he'd not forgotten his original purpose for being here. Leeds was hardly a tourist destination, although he had seen a lot worse. He contemplated starting a conversation with the female officer, but decided against it. He stood out like a sore thumb, and initiating contact would only be suspicious. Instead, he chose to quietly observe and wait for her or anyone else to take the bait.
And while time ticked by, he could appreciate some more of the relatively fine wines that were being served.
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Maurice Cornett wasn't one for bars. Back home, he much preferred inviting a small group of friends over to his place. However, he wasn't back home. The little free time he had between patrols was better spent in a bar than in the Oubli's bunks.
And thus, he walked into the "Cheap Freedom". The moment he set foot in the bar, he was forced to suppress a cough brought on by the air inside that LeBlanc had managed to pollute in record time.
An apt name, he thought as his gaze went through the small room. Other than LeBlanc - whose smoke signals were guaranteed to attract the attention of anyone who stepped inside the bar - he didn't immediately recognize anyone. An unfortunate fact - he didn't exactly feel like spending his free time being scoffed at by her. She was difficult enough to tolerate whilst on duty.
Perhaps, though, this was an opportunity to accelerate his rise through the ranks. If he was somehow capable of getting on the right side of the Général, at least.
With this thought planted firmly in his mind, Cornett mustered every piece of confidence he had within him, and stepped towards the table Lucie was sat at.
He cleared his throat and saluted. "Madame Général," he asked reluctantly, "May I join you at this table?"
"Ah, Cornett!" announced Lucie, raising an eyebrow. Amused, she took another puff on her cigar, but kept her expression at its usual level of coldness. "My most effective aspirant, non? Have a seat."
Heads were already beginning to turn, the General's loud voice attracting attention, but she couldn't have cared less. Nobody would dare to inconvenience her, after all. "Are you well?"
From across the room, the bartender winced in silent sympathy.
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Aspirant Cornett. He wasn't able to figure out from her tone whether she was simply pulling his leg, or oblivious as to his rank. It mattered little, however. He most definitely wasn't going to point out her mistake.
Maurice carefully pulled back a chair, almost as if he was worried to make any noise at all. Rather unlike Lucie, who seemed to put a great deal of effort into speaking as loudly as her tiny frame allowed.
He sat himself down equally carefully, just far enough away from Lucie to - hopefully - prevent lasting damage to his hearing.
Speaking slowly, looking for the right words to say, Cornett replied to the General. "Naturally, madame... Thank you, yourself?"
The Général made a disparaging noise, brandishing her cigar dismissively. "Things are inadequate, Cornett. I would feel much better were I not almost constantly surrounded by incompetence."
As if she had been waiting for this very moment, Lucie suddenly produced a diagram from one of her uniform's pockets, pushing it across the table towards Maurice. It was a schematic of a Cougar-class bomber, albeit with some crude modifications, which had apparently been made with a standard HB pencil and a total lack of artistic ability.
"Take this, for example!" she exclaimed, jabbing at the offending area, where the cargo hold had been scribbled out and a note saying "expand torpedo bay" had been added. "The engineers tell me it cannot be done. No more than seventy torpedoes per Cougar, they say. Something about 'technical limitations' and 'safety regulations'."
She frowned at the paper as if it were a personal insult to her, before turning her full attention to Maurice once again.
"I ask you, Cornett, what exactly am I going to use the cargo bay for while I am busy strafing Libertonian dreadnoughts? Nothing!" she barked, banging the table for emphasis. "Useless, the lot of them. I am a Général of the King's Royal Navy, and I want more torpedoes."
Lucie leaned back in her chair, taking another drag on her cigar as she did so.
"Although, other than that, Cornett, I suppose I am fine."
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Still recovering from the General's sudden outburst, Maurice fumbled for words. "I.. Well, you could, of course.. You could have your subordinates - such as myself - carry spare torpedoes for you, non?"
"Such as myself". Really, Cornett? Do you think she doesn't know that?
He quickly continued, if only to keep LeBlanc from making a snarky comment. "You see, I have a cruise disruptor fitted to my Cougar, rather than a torpedo launcher. Even with a full load of seventy disruptors, there's plenty of space left for torpedoes."
He nervously tapped his fingers on the table, hoping that the General would approve of his suggestion.
"Hmm," pondered Lucie, oblivious to Maurice's discomfort. "A stopgap measure, certainly, but perhaps it will do until these engineers learn to ply their craft."
She clapped her hands together decisively, evidently having made her mind up.
"Oui, Cornett. You may load your Cougar with a full complement of Nova torpedoes for my usage." she announced, as if she were bestowing an award on him. For the briefest of moments, the echoes of a smile flickered around her face, before disappearing just as quickly as they arrived.
"I assume you have no objections, Cornett? The extra mass won't impede your combat performance in that Cougar of yours, I take it."
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