[center][h3][color=00aeef]Gilbert König[/color][/h3][/center]
[center][h3][color=ed1c24]Annona Colony[/color][/h3][/center]
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The primary receiving dock of Annona Colony had been completely redecorated in honor of the [i]Venue[/i]'s arrival. Normally a hub of activity that saw cruisers and supply ships coming and going multiple times every hour, for the past several days all this traffic had been rerouted to allow the decorators to lay down their fluffiest red carpets and hang their most bombastic flags and drapes, and for the band to conduct their dress rehearsals. Nothing but the best for the Royal family, after all — anything less than adoring perfection would be regarded as a grave insult. And this was only the first stop; the true reception would be within the colony proper, with all the pomp and ceremony of a full parade and speeches from multiple dignitaries.

For Gilbert, this whole affair was quickly becoming the source of all his headaches. His [i]entire reason[/i] for being posted to Venus was that those blasted Mekon insurgents were making a stink that could no longer be handled by the local forces, with one particularly-irksome thorn in the Empire's foot also being sighted in the vicinity. Hosting this Exposition here rather than in the Martian sphere was a move that he saw as unnecessarily risky and compromising a military objective for the sake of a political objective — foolish and potentially fatal, if he could choose stronger words. But Princess Asallia had pushed, and it was the prerogative of royals to get their way, and so he'd taken it upon himself to personally oversee the security around Annona in the weeks leading up to the Venue’s arrival.

The knowledge of his involvement had disseminated through the echelons of the nobility — not that he’d been trying to keep it hidden — and so of course it was [i]expected[/i] of him to be personally present rather than outside in his Tommy, as he would have preferred. Thus, he now stood on a raised platform facing the innermost airlock gate, slightly uncomfortable in his neatly-pressed gules-en-argent dress uniform and shoulder-to-shoulder with a number of other high-ranking officers and nobles who had paid heavily for the privilege of being among the first to see the Princesses, and have (in theory) the greatest chance of making an impression. Governor Engan was present as well, standing at the very front of their little formation. As the recently-appointed head of state for the Venusian sphere, it would be the older man’s honor to be the first seen by the descending royals, and the first to welcome them aboard.

"Vanguard is commencing final approach." His earpiece burst to life with the sound of a woman’s voice. In the fold of proper infrastructure, the signal quality was much higher than he’d been accustomed to in wilder space. "[i]Venue[/i] and close escorts are prepared to dock.”

"Thank you, Victoria." His whispered voice was lost in the greater murmuring of the crowd, the buzzing excitement of a nation enamored with their royals. "They’ll be most vulnerable at this time. Maintain vigilance."

"Always, commander." 

There was no such thing as being too paranoid where the safety of the Royal family was concerned, not after the near-successful assassination of the Emperor. Gilbert had pulled a few vessels and MS teams from Gaspra to supplement Annona’s garrison, and his own 8th Rapid Response Group was watching over the [i]Venue[/i] as well. The [i]Kokytos[/i] and two of his Seytons had participated in the welcoming maneuvers earlier, and were now embedded among the augmented escort fleet; the others were part of the defensive "net" that had been scattered around potential approaches to the Venue and Annona. This was all in addition to the [i]Venue[/i]’s own formidable guns and escort, Mars sending some of their best to keep the pride of the Imperial Navy intact. The new [i]Caliban[/i]-class would be making its debut here, if he remembered correctly, commanded by a veteran whom he’d had the pleasure of working with in the past, and whose HR dossier was buried somewhere in his office. He hoped the new assault carrier performed as well as Sharp had claimed — otherwise, the one currently being torn open and refitted in a private berth elsewhere in the colony would be wasted.

Annaliese would also be hovering around Princess Sheena. He wasn’t sure whether that made him feel more or less worried, but he was certain that there would be numerous unhappy letters from his father waiting in his mailbox.

As for the dock . . . it was an enclosed environment where only members of the military, nobles, and carefully-vetted technicians could be, and the walls and surrounding shafts had been thoroughly combed for structural defects and planted devices, but beyond those bulkheads the two Princesses would be exposed to the entire population of the colony — Martians one and all, but he knew well that was no guarantee of loyalty. Agents had been seeded throughout the parade grounds and snipers were on the rooftops, keeping a careful lookout on vantage points along the route. The parade floats were armored, but that wouldn’t help as much if the Princesses stood out in the open, and [i]of course[/i] they would for the publicity and to reward the loving adoration of the masses.

He took another look around the dock — exchanged minute nods with a few of his security officers — and brushed the pistol at his hip. All he could do now was wait and look too preoccupied for anyone to dare strike up a conversation.