The Unionist meets the Gaian's eyes. Flora said "we", and Gunda noticed. For all her rebuttal, she was one of her people.
"You're likely right; I mean, I'm not a biologist. I'm just a messenger. Besides, conservation is your people's war. We Unionists are just playing tourist."
"But, Flora, I was born into a Rheinland where the idea of the Monarchy returning seemed laughable. Now some self-aggrandizing Bretonian-born socialite is wearing a platinum crown carved into oak leaves."
"We've lived through times when the idea of a sixth house of the Alliance, far beyond the Barrier, was ridiculous. As improbable as it might've once seemed, your people still had to go and kick the Gallic bastards clean off of Gaia."
"We've lived through times when prospect of ships crossing stars without a jump gate or a jump hole broke the laws of physics. Now, we've got spatial anomalies swallowing ships wholesale, before spitting them out again in pocket dimensions, and jump drives turning inter-system travel into blink-and-you-miss-it transits."
"We've lived through times when the idea of alien body snatchers would've been thought of as psychotic - and they're everywhere now."
"Compared to all of that... This is a basic engineering problem. Look, we run projects all the time that turn into ash or dust or wasted effort. But we do wanna' try. For all we know, we might live to see a day when repopulating Nuremberg is not only possible, but viable. Crazier <expletive> happens all the time. Even if that time never comes, we'll have saved a bundle of species -and- created a viable asteroid habitat."
"And, hey. Even if we're fools; you're going to come away from this conversation with an operable Bulwark."
THE SYNDIC LEAGUES
(A co-operative of Rheinland's outlawed trade unions, determined to take the underworld for themselves.)
Flora let out another sigh when Gunda finished speaking.
- Fine. But we will first need an ironclad agreement on the scale of this project. We'll have to make sure feasible to build and maintain, and which species can even be reintroduced to it. We'd rather avoid commiting any specimens to the project unless we are certain it's viable long-term.
Agreement arrives, sans delays. Now the Syndicate's foot was in the hatch, debating how far to prop the hatch open - or what exactly would be passed through the airlock - could come later.
Marathon goals aside, the next step was self-evident. Flora deserved to get what she came here for.
"Done. You'll hear from us after the Bulwark's operable."
"Bring her to Pacifica, and We'll take it from there, Flo'. You've done your part. See, we've got pressure-points with Bristol that make us the choice to handle the rest. It'll go smoother if the Union's wading into the coming fracas. We'll handle the Bristol buy-in, and the repair work. All of the fine details are on us."
"All we'll need from you after you've left the Hulk in our capable hands, is the credits to get this deal fueled. Once we've set a price - after talking it over with the Board on the Bay, you'll get your invoice. Drop the hard figures into an unregistered neural exchange, and we'll do the rest."
"Oh, Flo? You're free to come and go. We've prepped a suite for you, Hab promenade, deck fifteen, spin-ward compartment Six A Thirteen. Feel free to use it if you want to spectate our progress."
THE SYNDIC LEAGUES
(A co-operative of Rheinland's outlawed trade unions, determined to take the underworld for themselves.)
- Thank you. I'll be sure to stop by. But first, I'll have to relay all this back to Skye. - she said, then getting up from her seat. - Once the arrangements back home are done, I'll return with the ship. We can iron out the details of the habitat project while she's being worked on. - she said, then turning to Gunda while taking off one of her gloves. - Well then. I suppose we have our agreement in place. I say we shake on it and get to work. - she added, extending a handshake as she spoke.
Fitful laughter broils in her gut, demanding release. Riehl suppresses her urge, for she's unwilling to embarrass Flora.
How long had it been since Riehl had last shaken a hand? Perhaps it was the Gaian movement's academic routes, but nobody shook hands on Pacifica. Except for Fredrich, but he was always flying closer to the star than the rest of us. He was a quasi-officious firefly in a pack of stinkbugs and scoundrels.
The moment passes her by, and, with an unfamiliar, awkward pressure, Gunn's wrist closes around Flora's. She shakes on it, as if they were two IC brokers, insider trading behind an insider's joke.
"Right. To work we go."
"The ship you flew in on is fueled and prepped. Feel under no pressure to vacate, we won't need the pad clear for another three days. Pacifica's not going to run out of pressurized deckspace any time soon."
"...Oh, Flo'? It's been eight years since I saw you last. That's not the kind of gap you want to be imposing on your mates."
"I'll contact you when the Bulwark's ready. We'll see each other again, real soon."
THE SYNDIC LEAGUES
(A co-operative of Rheinland's outlawed trade unions, determined to take the underworld for themselves.)
The brief hang-up didn't elude Flora's attention, the woman glancing down at her hand, as if wondering if anything was wrong with it. She remained silent through the handshake, her expression not making it clear what she thought of it, if anything at all.
- There's nothing I can say to this, miss Riehl. The end of the war wasn't kind to the Guard. Perhaps, had the Union reached out in the intervening years... - she let her words hang for a moment, in the meantime putting her glove back on. - But, it's all in the past now. - she then continued with a smile. - The ship will arrive in the next few days. We'll call you ahead of time.
- Oh, and, mister Kruger. - she turned to the man behind the desk. She decided against offering a handshake this time. - Thank you for arranging this meeting. - she said with a nod, then finally moving towards the doorway.
- I'll see you soon. - she briefly turned on the threshold, then exiting the office and making her way to the hangar bays.
It wouldn't be long before a lone Panther slipped out into the Tanner, disappearing between the dust and rock.
Friedrich did not move at once when Flora turned away. The door slid shut with a muted hiss, sealing the office in its familiar quiet. For a moment, only the station’s low pulse filled the space — steady, patient, unyielding.
He inclined his head slightly in return to her nod, the gesture precise, restrained.
“Of course, Frau.”
His voice carried just enough warmth to keep the words from sounding procedural. He watched her reach the threshold, her silhouette briefly framed by the corridor’s light.
“I appreciate your candor. It’s rarer than people think — especially after a war.”
Only once she was gone did he exhale, slow and controlled. He turned from the desk and crossed to the viewport, hands folding behind his back as the hangar came into view below.
A single Panther slid free of Pacifica’s embrace, engines flaring softly as it cut into the Tanner. Dust and stone swallowed its silhouette within seconds.
“Soon, then,”
he murmured, more to the stars than to the empty room.
There were no illusions of easy reconciliations. The past would not be rewritten with handshakes or polite words. But ships still flew, deals were still made, and the Union endured by doing what it always had — building something solid where others left ruins.
Friedrich returned to his desk, reopened the report, and finally began to read. Preparations would need to start immediately.
THE SYNDIC LEAGUES
(A co-operative of Rheinland's outlawed trade unions, determined to take the underworld for themselves.)
![[Image: XTF1d6x.png]](https://i.imgur.com/XTF1d6x.png)
