It was fairly late, around 19:00. Vilhelm Von Hof was sitting on his rugged Phantom's left wing, having bottle of Rheinbeer with one of the crewmates he's been with for about 7 years due to unforeseen events. His name was Gerald. A man roughly 1.70m tall, rather skinny body, and young - one would say he's around his 30's. Von Hof calmly offered a sip from his bottle to the man, listening to what he's got to say. Surely anyone could hear the young man - or at least on a radius of 10 to 15 meters - as he was speaking quite loudly, stunned by how fast things have changed around Frankfurt as he stared through one of the Helgoland's window.
Some time passes as the crewmate carries on with his babbling. So much so that Von Hof even gets a mild headache out of it. "Hah. Good stuff, friend. But I believe that is enough. You can tell the others what you saw, but before that I'd like to know where did they go." said Vilhelm as he clears the dust off his right calf. "Don't you know? Everyone is in the medbay having themselves checked out. Some even take a shower or two. Or three. That's what I've been told, at least." replied Gerald, slowly realizing why his "Commander" might be concerned, yet shrugs off the feeling, and returns the bottle to him before turning away and leaving for the Medical Bay.
In reality, Vilhelm is fairly concerned about modern Rheinland. How many things have changed? Why did this Civil War occur? Has Rheinland won the war with Liberty? These were only a few questions the worried man from another age thought about on the spot. He looked around the docking bay. No one in sight. Not a single soul, and the few who show up seem to distance themselves from his Phantom as if it was a Plague Ship. Truth is, the paintjob could've used some attention, let alone rust gathering up between the parts. Stealthblades MKII weren't in their brightest moment either, but that wouldn't be a reason every person should avoid the ship. Something didn't feel right. He was also expecting someone. Kommisariat, an Admiral, probably a Buro representative. Hours passed. Days passed since the rescue. No one came. Vilhelm knew from past experiences that he should never question superiours about Orders or procedures, but that is what got them in the Omicrons in the first place. Would he be finally allowed to speak out his concerns? Anyone else would know that. But him? He wouldn't. So many questions, yet no answer.