A house built of cards was bound to fall. Cards caught the eye, certainly, clubs and hearts and diamonds that flitted and swayed in the breeze like festival dancers. But they were only paper, in the end, and when the wind shifted they would fall like the autumn leaves.

Had fallen. Cards and ideals were not so dissimilar.

Jana Achen licked a finger and turned the page of the book in her lap. Freya's room had few chairs, and fewer frills. The Vorsitzende of the Widerstand sat perched at her desk like an eagle, back straight, faux-military uniform immaculate. Jana had retrieved the single plastic chair that sat opposite her and had made her own seat in the room's corner. A good location, for someone more interested in watching than speaking. Their visitors would have to stand, of course, but that suited her well enough. Negotiating from the same position as an opponent was poor form.

Klugmann's Widerstand lay in tatters. It was no longer a matter of debate. Operational squadrons were countable on one hand. Functional spacecraft squatted in their hangers, abandoned to the cold embrace of vacuum, waiting for pilots long since departed or dead. Klugmann's hard-won allies had all but vanished.

The Natio Octavium had retreated to the uncertain embrace of their half-formed worlds, taking the promise of aid with them. Offended by the idealistic heavy-handedness of Klugmann's campaigns, the Hessians and Coalition had inched away from the floundering Bundschuh. The enigmatic Order, if they cared, were too distant and too concerned with their own backyard to offer anything more than condolences.

The Zwickau disaster had been the final nail in a coffin forged by long years of neglect, of peace offerings to an opponent that had long since decided on the Bundschuh's annihilation. Klugmann had offered the Kanzler's forces the olive branch, and they had beaten him to death with it.

Instead of rallying against the forces that struck them, the remnants of the Widerstand crouched in the shadow of their centuries-old stations, watching the skies for the tell-tale streak of a kinetic round. Fear had made them weak, and weakness had bought the predators as surely as blood bought sharks. The Unioners were stronger than they had ever been.

Last week, the Widerstand had lost another transport. Now, they survived on the kindness of strangers and the scraps their sparse raiding parties retrieved. Erich's dream of a peaceful, prosperous Widerstand had faded to dust before the Kanzler's guns.

Jana could almost bring herself to pity the sentimental young fool. Almost. But the Bundschuh was comatose, not dead. Only time would tell if it could remain so, and there was none of it to waste on pity for the past.

"A fine start to the evening, Vorsitzende." Jana turned a page without a glance at the younger woman. Milton's Paradise Lost. Freya had inherited the remnants of Klugmann’s Widerstand. A former Volksfront officer and one-time student activist, the faltering movement must have been an all-too-familiar sight. They were both shadows, now. "Another transport lost, and your aktivists decide now is the time to offer tours."

Jana was no military officer. In place of a uniform, she wore a civilian suit, long dress hanging above her ankles. Where Freya carried a pistol, Jana carried only a terminal. It was the only weapon she needed.

"These security breaches were tolerated in the past only out of respect for the wishes of the parliament." Jana's tone was light. She could have been discussing the weather. "As Vorsitzende, I remind you, you have a responsibility to all sects of the Bundschuh. If you insist on shielding your own members at the expense of the Bundschuh as a whole I cannot prevent die Festung pressing parliament for the dissolution of the position of Parteivorsitzende."

She flipped another page. "Ours is not the only sect pulling at the reins, Freya. The situation is delicate enough without throwing further salt in the wound. If you allow this -." A single thin eyebrow crept up. "I cannot shield the Widerstand from the fallout. It was enough convincing die Festung we were not better off on our own after Zwickau. Another security breach may well convince us that we would be better off looking to our own security, free of the Widerstand."

OOC: | Hullo folks. Post order for this one’ll be Commissar, TheJarl, Vaelin. They’ll be a couple of initial posts between TheJarl and I to sort the scene, and then I’ll bring Sparks and Vaelin in. Let me know if I’ve got any assumptions wrong in here and I’ll be happy to sort them!

To clarify, die Festung is one of the sects that united under Klugmann's direction to elect a collective leader for the various Bundschuh groups. |

"Perhaps." Jana spared a glance at the door. There was still no sign of Freya's activist. "I assure you, neither die Festung or myself have any inclination to revisit the chaos that followed the Volksfront's fall."

Your Volksfront, if I recall. She didn't say it. Did not need to. Jana let the implied threat hang for the space of a breath. Die Festung had survived the Volksfront. Jana would see it through the Widerstand. United, preferably, but fractured if she must.

"As long as you keep it in mind." Alongside everything else, it was a source of wonder that there was any room left in there. Balancing die Festung's needs was difficult enough without dragging the rest of the Bundschuh along with her. Time had left her almost grateful that Noth had wrapped his grasping hands around her position. For all the good it had done him. Klugmann's disappearance had eroded the old warrior's support faster than she could have hoped. People were fickle, and politics was fickler still. Something Freya no doubt knew. Ultimate power had a tendency to become, ultimately, unreliable.

"You cannot blame them for being restless. Both of our movements have suffered under the machinations of the previous administration. We have enough enemies in the Bundestag without making foes of our own as well." There were times Jana envied Rheinland’s puppet-parliament. At least decisions were made and stayed made. "As you say, unity is paramount. I’m grateful for your support in this."

Jana returned her attention to her book.


"Sorry! Sorry I'm late!" A weasely young woman sidled into Freya's office, turning side-on to slide through the still-opening door. A terminal glowed on her arm, EMERGENCY still plastered across the top of it. She froze when she saw Jana. For a moment she stood rooted in place, eyes flicking from Freya to Jana and back again like a deer caught in the headlights.

"I, er-" The newcomer flicked a nervous glance behind her. "Are you busy? Should we come back later?"

"That will not be necessary." Jana gave what she hoped was an encouraging smile as she chased through a mental list, matching faces and names. Jana had the sort of memory a blackjack player would have killed for - and very nearly had, a long time ago. Sarah McFarlen. Libertonian. Freya's mechanic. Prefers to go by- "Sparks. The Vorsitzende and I were just finishing."

Jana made no move to stand. She turned another page, watching the door out of the corner of her eye. Another figure lingered in the doorway, dark trench coat hanging from his shoulders like a shroud. If Sparks radiated nervous energy, this man was a black hole. He didn't need to wave for attention. He had a way of drawing her gaze like a leopard in a gazelle enclosure. Jana had worked against the BDM before, and Spark's companion had their air. He had the look of a man that would shoot you in your sleep and the most he'd feel would be the recoil.

All the more reason for a meeting.

"Come in." Jana glanced up from her novel. She did not meet their gaze. "In front of the desk, please."

A lesser woman would have laughed. Less than a minute in each other's company, and Klugmann's hound and the Buro-esque stranger were ripping into each other like a pair of vultures that had found the last piece of carrion in the desert. It was a childish display. Chest-beating and death threats, of all things. Amateurish. A professional started with the little threats. A man would be positively grateful if he thought you were breaking his kneecaps instead of glassing his city. No, the real professionals bruised and battered, where they had to. A little twist of the knife first, to show you were serious, and then she started talking about what else she could do to you. A truly convincing threat was the one you had already followed through on. A bruised rib was an excellent prerequisite to an enlightening conversation. Everything else was just words. It was all Jana could do to hide her smirk in her book.

While Freya and Sarah's cloaked companion swapped threats, the younger woman was cycling through expressions faster than the Bundestag chewed through representatives. From a put-upon glare at the Vorsitzende's disappointment, she turned a beetroot red at Freya's mention of Axel and stared at the floor as though it held the answer to the great questions of the universe. Sparks dissolved into shocked indignation at Freya's threat, real anger burning in her eyes. The young activist opened her mouth to speak.

"How dar-" She froze mid-sentence when the Buro lookalike spoke up. Like a soldier and a superior. Or a father and daughter. Jana glanced at a page, turned it, and filed the observation away for later consideration.

Silence settled on the gathering like a shroud at the lookalike's - Vaelin, he'd said - question. It was certainly a pseudonym, and not a particularly imaginative one at that. Jana had seen worse, but she would be hard-pressed to remember where. Jana settled in her chair. Quiet was a more useful tool than bluster.

Finally, McFarlen shifted like a rat under a lab-assistant's gaze, gave a nervous cough and spoke.

"Chr-" Her gaze darted to the wall behind Freya, and she winced as though she'd just stood on a tack. The girl made a valiant effort at a recovery, nerves rushing her words like a runner squeezing out breaths. "Vaelin, this is Freya. She's Vorsitzende of the Bundschuh." When that didn't garner a sign of recognition, she continued. "She's the boss. Not just of the Widerstand. Of the Bunschuh, all of it. Freya, this is Vaelin. He's... An old friend?" And questioning his decison to visit, I suspect.

When it become clear that no hand-shakes would be forthcoming, she turned her attention to the rest of the room. Sparks glanced across the desk and seemed to see Jana for the first time.

"This is..." She trailed off, uncertain.

Jana placed Paradise Lost on the floor beside her and glanced up at the pair. She gave an encouraging smile and let the young activist drift into complete silence before she spoke.

"Jana Achen. Here as an observer only, I'm afraid." She unfurled from the seat, extended a thin hand to shake the younger woman's and, in turn, offered it to Vaelin. "I don't believe we've met."

"The Vorsitzende-" Jana returned to her seat, retrieved the book. "And I, are concerned as to your conduct, Mr Darklight. You know, I had someone look over the docking manifest, and I can find no individual by that name. Perhaps you could start by explaining to the Vorsitzende how you found your way aboard? Without further threats to this facility, if you would."

"Let us be perfectly honest." Jana's voice was soft, conversational. She did not glance up from her novel. "Our current situation has nothing to do with young McFarlen's intentions, and even less to do with these threats. Whatever your capabilities, Mr Darklight," A smile darted across her face at the ludicrous name. "I very much doubt that you have the resources to single-handedly destroy this organisation. We do not have the ships to spare pursuing a vendetta with you and, even if we did, it's hardly a worthwhile use of force. Dragging weapons into this would gain both of us nothing but a new enemy."

Paper crackled in the silence as Jana turned the page. Sparks had inched closer to the door, shying away from the confrontation like a duck at a gun show.

"And you, Mr Darklight, strike me as a man who needs another enemy like he needs a hole in the head. So let's set aside the pissing contest, shall we?" She glanced at Freya, nodded, and continued without waiting for a reply. "Your contribution to the Widerstand's stores is appreciated, of course, and I'll see to it that you are fairly compensated for your efforts. However. The security of this installation remains our chief concern. A concern that neither Ms McFarlen or yourself appear to share."

"So, I find myself with a dilemma." Jana tapped a datapad on the wall, and a map of Frankfurt flashed into existence on the screen. Bruchsal was a dot of green in a sea of blood-red military patrol paths. The targeting arcs of planetary guns stretched out into the void like ripples in a ship's wake. "Do not let the walls of this facility fool you. We are far from safe here. We are far from safe in Rheinland. We are separated from military bombardment by nothing more than one leaked signal. One. For the past one hundred years, the Bundschuh has never been more than one poorly timed transmission away from annihilation. We may as well be children hiding under the bedspread."

True, in a sense. Bruchsal, like most of the Widerstand's installations, was capable of shifting its orbit to avoid retaliation. Had done so three times in Jana's lifetime, bombardment skating past into the deep black. When resources were more plentiful, the station had fired thrusters as a matter of course, routinely altering position to evade detection. That did not; however, mean it was easy. She closed the map with a tap.

"We do not have the freedom you do. We cannot simply pack up and leave when the military decides to come knocking. A security breach, any security breach, indicates a potential threat to the life of every person on this station." Jana detached the datapad from the wall, tapped a brief command. "Caution has been our watchword for over a century. So I trust you understand my discomfort when you treat our security as nothing more than a protocol that Ms McFarlen may ignore at her leisure."

Jana looked up from the book, brown eyes settling on Vaelin. "Please do not think I blame you for that. Most of those here, myself included, have spent our lives being hunted. It develops a certain way of thinking that, I suspect, is not entirely natural. It is not fair that you should be held responsible for what was, on your part, a mistake. Life, unfortunately, is not fair." Her gaze slid to Sparks, the young woman doing her best to meet Jana's stare. Eventually, she found something more interesting in the rivets on the floor. "And the same excuse cannot be extended to those who should know better."

She tilted in her chair to look at Freya, the Vorsitzende watching from her chair like a caged lioness. "This is hardly the first time that Ms McFarlen has risked this station. Arsenal, the incident with the Coalition. You've seen the same list I have."

"I never mean-" Sparks' began. Jana continued as though she had not spoke.

"Whatever her intentions, her actions have and continue to be a threat to the survival of the Widerstand." Perhaps it was something Klugmann tolerated. But I will not. She returned her attention to the book.

"I move for exile."