The secondary hanger of New Berlin's Daumann facility, The Ring, was nonetheless massive. Its sheer size seemed to swallow any sound, any light, any sign of life...Much like Daumann itself. That thought belonged to the hangar's sole occupant: a solidly-built man that would've looked at home as a lumberjack on old Earth, complete with bushy black beard and calloused hands. He sighed, and patted the flank of his StarTracker. I'd been saving the money up for retirement...but had to spend it on this. I couldn't let Dieter and his family down.
As he stood there, alone with his ship, he thought back on the course of events that had led him to this moment. A horrible industrial accident...completely preventable. It was the foreman's responsibility, but they blamed poor Dieter instead. I defended him, they fired both of us, I bought this ship and came to New Berlin... He pounded his fist against his ship in frustration at the memory. They refused to even hear me! Shuffled between secretaries and assistance-vice-somethings for a month, until I finally realized that in the grand scheme of things, I am but a cog in the vast machine that Rheinland has become. A broken cog.
And broken cogs are easily removed, discarded, and replaced.
With surprising trepidation for such a seemingly simple action, Conrad entered the StarTracker's cockpit and closed the canopy. It sealed with a hiss, and he began the short preflight list. Within a moment, he was requesting permission to launch. It came quickly and routinely, as the traffic controller had no idea what Conrad was about to do. I have been a law-abiding citizen, a loyal servant of the Kanzler until this day. All my life I thought that I could best serve the Fatherland by maintaining its industry...but I see now that very industry is poisoning my beloved nation. Destroying it from within, far more efficiently than even the Nomads could.
And so, that suicide industry must be destroyed so that the Fatherland can be restored.
As Conrad set his autopilot to take him to Dresden, he knew there would be no turning back. Already, really, it would be almost impossibly difficult to do so: his wife and two children were already at Freistadt Base in Omega-7, safely away from the clutches of the oppressive Rheinland Military, those unwitting servants of the heartless corporations. They supported his chosen action, though of course they feared for him as well.
"Halt, Conrad."
The voice coming from the comm made his heart stop, and sweat formed on his brow. No...no! So close! How could they have found out? Have they? What if they have not, this could be simply a routine scan... His fingers tightened on the trigger for his ship's weapons, though he knew he'd stand no chance against the Wrath that was flanking his vessel. Fortunately, there was no need.
"You're clear to proceed."
Conrad chuckled nervously to himself, and ignited his cruise engines. As he neared Brandenburg Border Station, he switched comm channels to the number he'd been secretly given a few days earlier, and keyed the mic.
"Fleet Kapitan Moritz? This is Rekrut Conrad Egon, preparing to jump into Dresden. I expect to arrive at Vogtland within ten minutes. I am not being followed."
Onboard a modified Camara freighter, Omega-54 System
There were only thirty people in the hold of the Camara, in a space that could hold considerably more. But to Conrad, it seemed stifling and crowded. Moritz' funeral had taken place only two days ago, and it still didn't seem real. This morning, Conrad had entered his former XO's office to move his own things in, and had felt a very disquieting sense that he was disturbing something important, as if Martin Moritz might walk in at any moment and ask what was being done with his office.
The other Hessians looked at him differently already, however. Now, when he entered the bar in Vogtland, the usual coarse jokes and idle chatter tended to die out. And this morning, in his former commander's office, he'd uncovered the access codes to the old RHA flagship: a Hessian cruiser that had not seen use in some time. As far as Conrad knew, she hadn't seen the outside of Omega-54 since he had flown escort for her as a Rekrut.
The men and women of the RHA are strong, but this is quite a blow...we need something, even if only symbolic, to show that we are as strong as ever. Perhaps recommissioning our flagship will help...she's been idle, empty in the asteroids for months. This skeleton crew ought to be enough to fly her to Omicron Alpha for a proper overhaul, and a new name. But still...twenty-four people? I've never had more than three under me onboard the Eismaid!
He shifted uncomfortably in his new Fleet Kapitan's uniform, and checked his watch. We should be arriving any minute now... And sure enough, the freighter rumbled as her reverse thrusters fired to ease her entrance into the cruiser's small hangar. Conrad glanced at the guards on either side of him, the only two members of his crew that carried more than a sidearm. It sent a bit of a shiver up the new Kapitan's spine to think that such protection might even be needed. It was one thing to be hunted as a Hessian...it was quite a different thing to be hunted as a leader of Hessians.
With the familiar hiss of pneumatic arms, the Camara's loading ramp lowered until its lower lip rested upon the hangar deck of Das Gotte Krieger. The air was stale, but breathable; the lower decks, with the hangar and engineering spaces, had airscrubbers running at all times, even when the reactor was offline.
Before Conrad could take a step, the two guards rushed ahead into the dark maw of the hangar, brandishing their flashlights like weapons, seeking out some hidden foe. They found nothing, gave the all-clear, and the engineering team rushed from the freighter to fire up the cruiser's reactor and restore power to the mothballed warship.
Meanwhile, Conrad made his way to the bridge, several crewmembers in tow. There were a few scattered spiderwebs - How did spiders get onboard, anyway? - but no corrosion or signs of anything having gone wrong while the cruiser was out of commission. Once he arrived on the bridge, Conrad didn't have to wait long. Within moments, the overhead lights hummed to life, and the corridors again reverberated with the comforting industrial thrum of military-grade life-support systems.
The speakers mounted on the ceiling crackled to life. "Kapitan Egon, sir, the reactor is online and showing green. All systems are ready for your command."
Though only the crewmembers on the bridge could see the motion, he nodded. "Very good. Lay in a course for the Dresden jump hole and bring us up to cruise speed. We'll work out any bugs in Dresden and Frankfurt today...and tomorrow, we go to Alpha."
Captain's quarters aboard the RHA Sternenfaust, in orbit above Malta
For the third time in the past minute, Conrad checked the chronometer on the wall. In the weeks since being given command of the RHA, it seemed there was always something that needed doing. Always some paperwork, or a dispute between crew to resolve, or a meeting to attend...such as the one that was about to begin. A small, one-on-one meeting with a promising, determined young Blood Dragon looking for a break. Not like most Blood Dragons, though...this one was addicted to Cardamine.
A knock on the door startled Conrad from his thoughts, and when he answered it he was greeted by a surprisingly sharp-dressed lad, apparently in his twenties. "Good day, sir. I'm told you have a proposition for me?"
"Come in, take a seat." He courteously waited until Conrad sat down before taking a seat himself. "You were told correctly. Right now, I'm very busy trying to keep the RHA together in the wake of Kapitan Moritz's death...I'm afraid the pilots have taken it rather hard. My duties leave me little time for the smuggling or commerce raiding that are required to keep the credits flowing."
"And that's where I come in."
"Yes. I have a pirate transport waiting for you on one of Malta's landing pads; the Camara in the hangar bay will shuttle you there whenever you're ready, should you accept my proposal."
"And what, exactly, IS your proposal?"
"Take the transport, and bring me credits. You may conduct trade between our allies, smuggle goods, raid enemy shipping...whatever you wish. Nor are you confined to the pirate transport...feel free to exchange it for something more suitable, if you like."
"Sounds good. Limits?"
"Yes. Keep your raiding to Rheinland. Get rid of the Blood Dragon IFF associated with your name if you decide to do any smuggling, lest the NovaPG decide to hunt you down. And, if you're captured...we have no idea who you are. Understand?"
"Perfectly." The man extended his hand, and Conrad took it. The deal was sealed.
Message to: Fleet Kapitan Egon
Comm ID: Your Little Helper
Location: Mull Base, Newcastle
Got some good news for ya: ditched the 'ole PTrans for a Bumblebee that can get through the rocks a bit easier, saved some dough and got me a BWT. Loads of capacity, plenty of guns, and CD-resistant to boot. Just made us 12 million richer in a single run! Things're going well. Your flagship's gonna be top-of-the-line in NO TIME. I'll keep in touch.
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Message to: Raider
Comm ID: Fleet Kapitan Egon
Location: Casablanca Base, Omega-47
Good, good...well done. The downgrade to the Bumblebee isn't a step I would have taken, and seems a waste of money, but as long as you've patched things up and have a better ship, I suppose all's well that ends well. Speaking of which, I hear you've been playing musical chairs with your IFF. GMG, Blood Dragon, and now Lane Hackers? What is your intention?
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Message to: Fleet Kapitan Egon
Comm ID: Ronin!
Location: Mull Base, Newcastle
Yes, call me Ronin from now on. Seems a fitting name, don't you think? Anyhow, yes, I am keeping my tag changing. For one thing, keeps the lawfuls guessing. For another thing, it's hilarious to watch people run away before I even get into scanning range just because of the size of my scanner signature. They think I'm flying a gunboat, can you believe it? Ha! And yes, before you ask, I do still have the smuggler ID. So unless I've got contraband, they can't do a thing to me. And I've recently discovered that some cargoes are even more profitable than contraband. So lemme do a few more runs, and then I'll even buy your cruiser her freakin' armor, bolt it to my BWT, and haul it right to your doorstep. I told ya you wouldn't regret hiring me!
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Message to: "Ronin"
Comm ID: Fleet Kapitan Egon
Location: Casablanca Base, Omega-47
A fitting enough name...and conceals your ship's identity. Good. Now, about your IFF...no, it really doesn't keep the lawfuls guessing. I can understand how you might find it amusing to watch traders run from you, but has it occurred to you that if they're running, they might be calling in mercs, BHG, or lawfuls to hunt you down? Please change your IFF to something more befitting your purpose, like Junker. Most pirates ought to leave you alone then.
It's good to hear that your explorations are bearing fruit already. And, I can tell you, the idea of you being able to mount the armor and carry it all the way to wherever the Sternenfaust is stationed is a very appealing idea. Do it. I told you when I hired you that I believe people deserve a second chance. You didn't expect me to go back on my word, did you?
