01-29-2014, 12:30 AM
Jacques was actually caught off guard by the greeting. Twenty years was a long time, and the Légion étrangère had faded even from educated memory. Either this Mr Vellas was quite the historian, or he had done his homework. Of course, that didn't answer why he had been summoned to the man's office. The CCD's insistence on red tape was legendary, but both the good Dr Weston and now this mysterious fellow were entirely unusual layers. These people were playing their own games now, with himself and his men seeming to be sized up as new toys and pawns for whatever they were up to.
"Nous ne renonçons pas."
He indicated to a seat across from Michael's desk, but sat whether he was invited to or not. If he was going to be forced to jump through hoops for these people, he was at least going to be comfortable doing it. He still hadn't quite gotten a firm grip on just what was going on, other then that he had stumbled into a nest of Moscovite big-wigs working hard to make their Ascendancy happy.
His question was met with a confused look, which quickly flopped to an amused laugh and knee-slap, "You give me far too much credit, Mr Vellas. I am no Gypsy foreteller. These contracts have been many long months in the works. It just good luck that we are finally ready to step foot into so lucrative a market."
"I assure you, Mr Vellas, there are no ulterior motives behind this. Your government has ratified laws, ending the ambiguous laws regarding private armies. And Légion Première is here to capitalize."
They were the first of what would surely be many such companies that had been operational in Africa for decades to make the leap into the CCD market.
Of course, being the first, they would also be the ones to set the bar for other companies still working to make the same leap. And Légion Première would set the bar very, very high. Most of the 250 operators Jacques had selected for the initial contracts were Muslim. Cultural and language training had been ongoing for over a year already. Many of their rival companies were made up almost entirely of ex-military types, the sort prone to shooting first and asking questions later. Légion Première's members were also mostly ex-military, but the recruitment screening were entirely different then the norm.
"Besides, if I were able to see the future, Mr Vellas, I would have brought a copy of Soldier of Fortune for you to autograph. You wrote a most interesting piece some years ago, did you not? Quite insightful for one so young and without, at that time at least, any actual experience, yes?"
He grinned warmly, then shifted in his seat to sit with his legs crossed, and briefly drummed a finger on his knee as if in thought.
"Perhaps it is fate? Maybe this shall all lead to an interesting story some day? A man who knows off the cuff a proper greeting for the Legion, to meet a man who knows a paper written years ago? And now to meet, in a city where neither have any right to stand? I fear a great chapter of history is soon to be writ here, Mr Vellas. Of the only sort we ever seem to remember, yet always ignore, yes?"
The smile was gone, replaced with a far more serious tone. As much as he may act otherwise, Jacques was more then just another business man. There were no shortage of those in the world.
He had kept a close eye on Dominance V in the past year or so. More so then usual, perhaps. He was aware the place was a powder keg, that all it would take was one more spark to set it off. That there weren't already riots in the streets over the 'honour killing' of that poor girl was a miracle. And now with the Ascendancy himself coming to Mecca and who knew how many special forces skulking in the shadows, that spark wasn't likely to be far off.
"Nous ne renonçons pas."
He indicated to a seat across from Michael's desk, but sat whether he was invited to or not. If he was going to be forced to jump through hoops for these people, he was at least going to be comfortable doing it. He still hadn't quite gotten a firm grip on just what was going on, other then that he had stumbled into a nest of Moscovite big-wigs working hard to make their Ascendancy happy.
His question was met with a confused look, which quickly flopped to an amused laugh and knee-slap, "You give me far too much credit, Mr Vellas. I am no Gypsy foreteller. These contracts have been many long months in the works. It just good luck that we are finally ready to step foot into so lucrative a market."
"I assure you, Mr Vellas, there are no ulterior motives behind this. Your government has ratified laws, ending the ambiguous laws regarding private armies. And Légion Première is here to capitalize."
They were the first of what would surely be many such companies that had been operational in Africa for decades to make the leap into the CCD market.
Of course, being the first, they would also be the ones to set the bar for other companies still working to make the same leap. And Légion Première would set the bar very, very high. Most of the 250 operators Jacques had selected for the initial contracts were Muslim. Cultural and language training had been ongoing for over a year already. Many of their rival companies were made up almost entirely of ex-military types, the sort prone to shooting first and asking questions later. Légion Première's members were also mostly ex-military, but the recruitment screening were entirely different then the norm.
"Besides, if I were able to see the future, Mr Vellas, I would have brought a copy of Soldier of Fortune for you to autograph. You wrote a most interesting piece some years ago, did you not? Quite insightful for one so young and without, at that time at least, any actual experience, yes?"
He grinned warmly, then shifted in his seat to sit with his legs crossed, and briefly drummed a finger on his knee as if in thought.
"Perhaps it is fate? Maybe this shall all lead to an interesting story some day? A man who knows off the cuff a proper greeting for the Legion, to meet a man who knows a paper written years ago? And now to meet, in a city where neither have any right to stand? I fear a great chapter of history is soon to be writ here, Mr Vellas. Of the only sort we ever seem to remember, yet always ignore, yes?"
The smile was gone, replaced with a far more serious tone. As much as he may act otherwise, Jacques was more then just another business man. There were no shortage of those in the world.
He had kept a close eye on Dominance V in the past year or so. More so then usual, perhaps. He was aware the place was a powder keg, that all it would take was one more spark to set it off. That there weren't already riots in the streets over the 'honour killing' of that poor girl was a miracle. And now with the Ascendancy himself coming to Mecca and who knew how many special forces skulking in the shadows, that spark wasn't likely to be far off.