Timothée Meunier arrived at the station a week before the meeting. Beforehand, he had undergone two months of training to advance his qualifications from third rank to second rank. First, a voyage from Champagne to Montmirail, then a meeting with one of the Commissaires, the captain of the Quimper, who briefed him on the upcoming work and worked with him to advance in rank and position, followed by his first practical work as an intelligence officer.
He was sent to Cologne to survey the situation and report back to his commander. According to standard infiltration protocols, the agent was required to learn local slang, gestures, the origins of each group, their personnel and habits, as well as a kind of "universal vocabulary" of the criminal underworld. However, there was a huge difference between the Houses of Liberty and Rheinland, for example, and he was originally from Gallia. Dressed in a uniform that gave off the air of a simple pirate seeking profit, he gradually gathered information, extracting it not by force, but by word, just to learn as much as possible.
He even took a liking to several local gangs and was about to begin working with them more closely
An order came from the Commissariat regarding upcoming negotiations with the Unioners. According to EOS archives, the Organization had already crossed paths with them in Zurich, but it had been so long ago and far from friendly that information wasn't so much scarce... it wasn't even there: these people suddenly decided to go into active operation, around the same time as the Organization, and then began appearing on the borders of Gallia almost daily. Conflict was inevitable: a few local skirmishes and mutual insults finally allowed them to get to know each other better.
The Commissariat and the Observateur realized this wasn't grounds for another confrontation, but an opportunity to gain a valuable ally, whose motives and goals were yet to be revealed. The planets align, the dice roll, and the opportunity falls precisely on the A-02-510. Timothée received orders to meet the Unioners ambassador, after which he contacted him personally and awaited his response.
The plan was simple enough. He asked the security officer to inspect incoming ships and report any necessary information. This service cost a few francs, part of which was spent on keeping the officer quiet about who had requested it and why. Having given him his contact information, he waited for the right moment. He didn't have to wait long: literally a day later, the Unioners ship arrived at the station's docks. The agent already had the necessary data, which the Unioners had transmitted to him shortly before. When the ship landed, he requested that a message be sent from the station's dispatcher to the ship's captain's onboard computer, indicating the date, time, and location of the meeting.
Dressed in his shabby "pirate" uniform, Timothée entered the bar, sat down at a far table, and waited for his guests. The week hadn't been wasted. He had nothing to fear, and he calmly gazed at the entrance, sipping his juice.
Heisenberg Station was never quiet not really. Even in its calmer hours, there was always that low hum of machinery, voices bleeding into one another, deals being made in corners no one looked at twice.
Krüger noticed it all the moment he stepped off the docking ramp.
He didn’t arrive like a warlord, nor like a man trying to impress. No escort, no spectacle. Just a dark coat, worn but clean, Unioner markings subtle enough to be recognized by those who knew what to look for and ignored by those who didn’t.
A diplomat, not a threat.
At least, not openly.
The message from station dispatch had already come through by the time he cleared customs. Time, place. Efficient. Gallian.
He made his way to the bar without rushing. Observing. Measuring. Faces, posture, who watched too long and who pretended not to. Old habits ones you don’t lose in Unioner space, not if you want to live long enough to matter.
Then he saw him.
Far table. Alone. Relaxed, but not careless.
Krüger approached without hesitation, pulling the chair across from Timothée just enough to sit without scraping it loudly across the floor.
He set a small data-slate on the table inactive, for now then looked up.
A brief pause.
A measured nod.
Monsieur Meunier, I presume.
His tone was calm. Human. Not rehearsed.
I appreciate you arranging this. Saves us both from another week of talking in circles over comms.
A faint glance around the room, then back to him.
You’ve chosen a good place. Neutral enough… and loud enough that no one listens too closely unless they’re paid to.
A slight shift forward, resting his forearms on the table.
No titles, if you don’t mind. Friedrich is fine.
A beat.
So
A small, almost tired smile.
Let’s start simple. You’ve seen us in Cologne, Zurich… Champagne. You’ve heard things, I’m sure.
His eyes held steady.
What is it you think the Unioners are doing here?
THE SYNDIC LEAGUES
(A co-operative of Rheinland's outlawed trade unions, determined to take the underworld for themselves.)
![[Image: Story.png]](https://i.postimg.cc/xCSrPB4j/Story.png)
![[Image: XTF1d6x.png]](https://i.imgur.com/XTF1d6x.png)