The loud clanging of metal, the hiss of welding machines, and the smell of oil—or was it the sweat of the workers?—filled the air. The construction platforms at Saverne were, as always, running at full speed. What they lacked in comfort and warmth, they more than made up for in their unmatched production and repair of starfighters.
"How's it looking over there?" asked a deep, slightly rough male voice. Ralf leaned over from his kneeling position and turned to face the adjacent platform.
Two Valkyrie-class starfighters hovered just above the ground, each suspended by a robotic arm that rotated on all axes. Beneath them stood three people, each focused on a different task related to the ship’s maintenance.
"Yep, almost done. The, uh, the front fuselage is a bit scratched up, but that shouldn’t be an issue after one or two runs," said a young woman, her advanced welding mask flipped up on her head.
"Right." Ralf murmured, nodding slightly as he stood beside her. "What about the engine?" he called loudly to the far side of the ship.
"Almost finished," came a male voice. "We just need to link the fuel line to the ignition system, and then it should be..."
The young man pressed a few buttons on his console. Seconds later, several mechanical arms reached into the ship’s engine compartment. When they withdrew, the sound of the engine firing up filled the air.
"...ready to fly."
"The Hessian will be stopping by soon. Make sure you're done, and no sloppy work." said the man firmly, as he walked back to his own station, where the sister ship was mounted.
He pulled down his welding mask and returned to work on the ship's left wing.
Schonning walked these workshops, discreetly gazing around, pursued by the relentless mechanic noise of working machinery, ceaseless clanking of metal and odd odors mixing with filtered station's air, forming a very specific bitter mixture: breathable, but not very pleasant to take in.
Still, despite everything that suggested these, remarkably more unhinged workshops compared to shining, neat and clean new industrial complexes Rita walked, noting that these places bore the spirit that the craft took in succession, a good luck charm for the pilots that'd strap themselves into the state of the art craft revived to their top-notch shape here. She existed at the periphery for a while, watching as Ralf's crew worked their way with the sentenced starfighters.
Their fate of going to the obscurity was cancelled, and they'd fly once again, not too long from this moment.
Schonning pondered the view for a while while awaiting for a good moment to make her presence known - she knew better than to disturb an engineer at work, especially as proud as Lobgesang. His motives intrigued the woman but for the moment, this curiousity she'd put aside. He did not approve of the ideals Schonning pursued here and may have had a disdain for her, but agreed for the work nonetheless.
If, once, she gets on Ralf's good side - the man may open up about it. Or may not.
Several moments passed before Ralf noticed the unfamiliar woman. Immersed in his work, his gaze had drifted over her as she passed by, appearing almost like a shadow in the corner of his eye.
Ralf hesitated, pausing mid-motion when he realized that Rita wasn’t part of the usual crew. Her presence felt understated, slightly out of place, and he took a moment to assess her. With a quick upward swipe, his visor was no longer covering his face. In his typical fashion, Ralf tossed his handheld welding tool onto a nearby hovering workbench and rubbed his nose with his heavily worn work gloves as he walked toward her.
"Frau Schønning, I assume?" He pulled off his right protective glove from his broad, bear-like hand and extended it toward Rita as he approached her.
"Yes, herr Lobgesang." Rita mimicked his gesture and reached out for a handshake; it's firmness, despite her small frame, suggested she's not so much possessing of raw strength but rather - the knowledge of proper force applications, which was a subtle nod to military or even intelligence background.
How this woman ended up with the Hessians is a story for another time - but she'd tell, given time and Ralf's willingness to listen.
"Didn't want to distract you from your work. How are they looking?"
Ralf gestured toward the two assembly plants.
"The ships are nearly finished. My crew and I are just putting on the final touches—"
They walked around one of the ships, and Ralf gave the hull two firm knocks.
"The power core gave us the biggest headache. Your tech doesn’t play nice with the stuff the military uses. These two birds now have power cores from a couple of decommissioned Bundschuh ships we got recently. That’s the only way we could make the military gear work."
He spoke with a casual confidence. Turning to Rita, he studied her for a moment.
"Don't mean to be rude, Frau Schønning, but what brings you to the ragtag group that calls themselves the Red Hessians these days?"
Ralf asked, breaking the brief silence that had been filled with the steady hum of the machines.
Schonning walked along and listened to the explanation, briefly smiling to the result. A man with Ralf's background couldn't have done it wrong, knowing the chassis and it's quirks like the back of his hand. The question didn't startle Rita, but she'd taken a good few moments to put her thoughts on it to words, speaking genuinely.
"I was starting to wonder when would that question come off. It's no state secret, too - I'm no good woman, herr Lobgesang. I'm a Federal deserter, or that's what the Marinenachrichtendienst will label me. If not worse. But that's beside the point - coming to terms with monarchists is an affort to everyone who died to put out the flames of their coup. People of Rheinland have tried all legitimate methods of casting them out, and only one left. To topple it by force. Only like that, I'll give meaning to the deaths of my friends and comrades. I don't think the Bundschuh, or the Federal opposition can offer me that satisfaction anymore. Not after Holstein. I'll gladly work to further that agenda after they're done for, but for now, I have to stay with the strong, those who still have fight left in them."
Ralf listened with stoic calm, his arms crossed over his chest, eyes steadily fixed on Rita. His crew continued their work in the background.
"Don’t get me wrong, gute Frau (dear ma'am)," Ralf began, his voice as steady as his stance. "I couldn’t get enough of seeing those wannabe royals brought to their knees either. But I wouldn’t throw my lot in with the Hessians to make it happen. Don't know if you’ve noticed, but the Hessians haven’t had a clear vision for Rheinland’s future in a long time. Knew a few of them pretty well, but that was years ago. Lost contact, though. They're either long gone or dead, I reckon."
He scratched the back of his head, his expression thoughtful.
"Maybe you're better at lighting ships on fire, I won’t argue that. We sometimes get cold feet when it comes to pulling the trigger, but our people still believe in having a country standing at the end of all this chaos. Whether the Hessians are thinking that far ahead... I doubt it."
His gaze shifted away from her, his expression contemplative as if lost in thought.
"Honestly... I don't think they would, either. It's true they play it like they are still preaching communist ideals, but it's only a facade. They know these to the letter, but are clueless how to apply it to build a state."
Rita crossed her arms with a quiet sigh. She feels like she'd symphatise with Ralf, but for the moment, her lot was cast with the Hessians. And she's going to see it through to the bitter end.
"But I didn't sign up for the ideology. They're maybe clueless, but they've the power. And, after everything, it's the power that'll break the back of Rheinland's monarchy - everything else failed. Wouldn't surprise me if, once all is said and done, Hessians give way to Bundschuh to take the chance at building a better Rheinland. But that's a story nor for mine, nor for your lifetime, herr Lobgesang."
Rita’s words were met with a slight shake of Ralf’s head. They moved a little closer to one of the ships, and Ralf reached for a small spot welder from his tool belt, fixing a cracked area near the cockpit.
"Gute Frau (Dear Woman) you’re fooling yourself, and you know it."
A few brief flashes of light from the tool illuminated his face. With a quick motion, the tool was back on his belt. He paused for a moment.
"The Hessians don’t give a damn 'bout our ideals. The last thing they’d ever do is willingly give up power, and you know that," he said firmly, turning back to face Rita.
As Schonning followed along with the man, Ralf could see Rita throwing curious glances at the working crews with ample respect; compared to these people, she knew seldom little of proper shipbuilding and maintenance, but could appreciate genuine, professional labor. But the conversation's flow would return to ideological subject - not something Rita objected. It'd serve them right to bring her point across.
"You may be right. I've respect for your words and inclined to agree with you, Gute Herr. Then, if that happens in my lifetime - I'll cast my lot with the better cause, as the powerhungry and depraved must be brought low. But, for the moment, from my perspective - they do a better job at delivering painful blows to the monarchists. Physical, not ideoligical, but at moment's notice - it is more important, and as harmful for Monarchy's public image as Bundschuh political efforts. But, to be honest..."
She took a small pause, contemplative for a brief moment.
"...I do not expect that we'll have to go each other's throats in the coming decades, and definitely not before I die."
Ralf let out a single, low, gruff laugh. He slammed his bear-like fist against the Valkyrie’s hull next to them, the metallic echo ringing out into the air. Yet the ship showed no signs of even registering the impact.
"Then just don’t die, Frau Schønning,"
he said, raising his brow slightly.
"Hm? Just don’t die. You punch things to make sure they’re solid, not to knock the gold-shitters on top off their pedestals. But be it as it is."
"Ralf?"
a voice called out from the opposite assembly plant.
"How’s it looking?"
Lobgesang replied, turning toward the slightly younger man, who was wiping his hands with a rag.
"Just about done. Feuerprobe?"
The man asked with a playful edge to his tone.
"Absolutely."
Ralf responded, a hint of excitement creeping into his voice.
"Frau Schønning, a little preview? Join us back there."
He gestured with his hand, motioning for her to follow him away from the assembly plants to the safety of the main console that controlled both units.
"Believe me, I'm trying my best. And these precious will help me fare a tad bit better."
Schonning tapped cockpit's glass of the Valkyrie closer to her with a smirk.
"You stay alive too, Gute Herr."
Woman also turned for the voice, listening to the little bout and following the beckon, joining Ralf beside the console.
"Should I brace for good news?"
"We’ll see."
Ralf said as he worked the console.
"First, the engines."
The hum of the engines powering up grew steadily louder, their exhaust ports beginning to glow with the familiar green hue.
"Fuel supply, stable. Temperature, normal."
Ralf muttered to himself, his eyes fixed on the holographic display projected from the console.
Rita found herself a comfortable-for-all position beside Ralf, finding a good balance between seeing all relevant results but not getting in the way of any checks the engineers deem neccessary. Woman also ultimately remained quied, hoping with all her being that results remain satisfactory.
She was to fly the birds, but on Ralf's conditions, the ultimate decision whether they're fit or not was for the man to make.
"Good. Bringing the shields online." Ralf said, pushing a small lever upward.
A barely visible, bubble-like structure enveloped both ships, accompanied by a sharp charging sound that faded as quickly as the shields became invisible.
"Now the Feuerprobe (lit. firing test)."
Ralf moved his hand toward a control device, hesitating for just a second.
"We mean that literally."
With that, he continued. Using the controller, several turret-like machines descended from the ceiling. It appeared to be the base’s defense system.
"Only one way to see if the shields hold up."
A slight grin spread across the crew's faces. With the push of a button, the turrets unleashed a streamlined and precise salvo of Hornviper projectiles at the two ships. Several people in the hall turned their heads toward the seemingly bizarre sight, though the deafening sound of projectiles cutting through the heavy air of the hangar quickly filled the space, the shields held firm, effortlessly absorbing the incoming rounds.
After a few seconds, Ralf stopped the fire, his display glowing red.
"Haha! Never gets old." he bellowed with satisfaction. The turrets retracted back into their mounts, and a few members of the crew patted each other on the shoulders. Ralf turned back to Rita.
"Looks like we got it right." he said, amused.
If Ralph's crew wanted an impressive and efficienty conclusion - they definitely managed to make one, Rita showing her appreciation by clapping, the necessary made, judging by Schonning have that silly toothy grin of a child who's got a lifetime supply of candy. She snapped out of it after a few moments, postponing celebration for later.
Woman faced Ralph, and stretched her hand out for a handshake.
"Danke Schon, Gute Herr. Und euch allen."
The second part obviously addressed Ralph's crew. They deserved credit as much as their foreman.
Ralf accepted the gesture and shook Rita's hand in his usual manner.
"As for whether the rest of the ships hold up, I’m afraid you’ll have to figure that out yourself. But the hull integrity' rock-solid, according to our readings. In my opinion, you’ve got two perfectly healthy Valkyries."
He turned his head slightly.
"—and that as a Hessian," he muttered under his breath.
"You’ve arranged the transport?"
"Yes, Gute Herr. Skald has been at the mooring point - she's a Grendel that first delivered them to Vogtland. Decided to be pragmatic and competent in something since I left you to shoulder the bulk of the work."
Schonning smirks, shooting the pinnacle of Rheinland strike craft engineering a glance.
"I assure you - they'll get an actual baptism of fire, and soon enough."
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