Sup’? Met one of your pilots whilst saving the ass of an artefact Uruz up South Texas. Guy could make for an inquisitor - friendly, nearly procured diplomatic intel off me without communication.

We’re the two players in the Rheinland smuggling world. The Hessians produce but they’re skimpy with their exports. We deliver what others dare not. We run fast, we pack in bulk. Rheinland’s jump hole network is our playground as much as the Hessians run the west Omegas and the Corsairs the east. We band, we fight, we drink, we go home.

Said pilot provided me with a proposition just a little too sensitive to go chasing down over direct neural net channels. Not yet.

There’s a misconception about us. We’re not revolutionaries. We’re not cramming the wellbeing of the people in a centrifuge. We’re out here to reinforce the common idyl - you do work, you get paid for it. You walk your way out of class slavery, you climb another tier on the ladder. The government gets off your collective backs whilst also being firm enough to keep the spin masters in line. We’re populists, we’re socialists, we’re nationalists. Rheinland for Rheinlanders; the linden is made of wood and cosmos help us if somebody else makes a table out of her. Our way of life is not so different to yours, Junker. We mind our backs, don’t cross those who don’t cross us, preserve our zest for life. Luckily for you, nobody wants to cross a junker. But the cream of life? Everybody’s got to squeeze the paps.

Half a millennia ago, before the Dallas Research Complex was a wealth of ionised alloy, we were the most successful worker’s union in the Sector. Rheinland led Sirius in labour wages, in income, in performance. The system worked. The system worked so well everybody else trailed.

Then the house of cards got so artful it blew over in the wind. It’s been tumbling ever since.

We want, what you’ve got. Solidarity. Right to shape our own futures. To set your own standards, not to have some Neu Berlin straightjacketed fool lecturing you on higher intentions. We’re no revolution, Junks. We’re the resolution. A gateway out of the society people like you, people like me, reject.


So yeah. There’s reasons over the pragmatic why we should notice each other. Something a little less menial than just metal for ships.

But talking it over isn’t the Junker way. I know you people. Actions over words, always. So here’s what I propose. We convoy together - protection in numbers, help-for-help. Once we get to know each other, get to trust each other, we get exchanging. Ships for resources. Building up those positive feedback loops over and over again.

Up for a run? Partners in crime? Inter-Institutional trust isn’t going to go Scheißen if you have a few well-armed children of Alster sticking themselves to your Salvagers.

Besides, if you’re looking to buy, it helps to admire the goods first hand.

You had me at hell of a bar.


It’ll take us up to a week to rig ships for permanent moor up ‘Rico. If you've earned one concession; it's priority. Our holiest of holies is only a cosmic hop to the east; it’s where we do our Shipyard work - your, shipyard work - an Aland away from Aland. Once the metals bent, We’ll be parking freshly minted transports in any bay you’ll have us fill. Give the products something of a shakedown cruise.

If the remains they’re digging out of Dallas are as good as they tell, you’ve got yourself a deal, Bill. I’ll get someone to send along something resembling a product catalogue - make it presentable. Have it wear a clean face. The cookery book for a glassed city: well-done, extra fries.

We’re honoured for you to be inviting us into your home, Bill. We didn’t lose the irony of an Arbiter talking trade to an Arbiter. Fortune isn’t subtle when it tells you who your friends are.

We're engineers - we do quality control tests. We’ll be back once we’ve made some runs - if the Dorians buy what you're mining, can make titans out of what -we're- buying, with our credits, we can sure make arbiters for arbiters from the same.


Keep watching this space.