The airlock hissed and groaned as the spikes pierced it through. Latching onto the inside, they tightened their grip on the airlock door. On the other side, the boarding pod latched onto its prey, forming a tight seal between it and the station. The hiss subsiding as the air pressure equalized, the solders inside wasted no time. The airlock now burst into sparks as a welding torch cut a hole through the thick durasteal. It took no less then fifteen seconds to burn through the airlock, and as the liberated plate of metal fell to the floor with a thunderous crash, shadowy shapes with glowing red eyes stepped out of the newly created opening.
Kommissaroberrat Voss sighed as he adjusted the armour he was given, checking the seals around his helmet for signs of leaks as the Marines ahead of him prepared for their boarding action, while most of the marines were using large rifles that could only be held through the use of their power armour, Voss was simply using a Plasma Pistol as he waited near the back for the Marines to gain access.
With a loud 'clank' of metal as it hit the deckplates of Bonn they managed to cut through and marines started to climb inside, rifles raised and ready to fire at a moment's notice, Voss climbed out after a rather large and intimidating Marine with what looked like a Repeating Cannon climbed through the hole...Gott that man was just creepy as hell...
Once Voss had climbed through he looked around the seemingly deserted corridor, the airlock now behind them as marines continued to slowly and carefully climb through. The lighting was dimmed, however due to his powered armour he could still see fine as the HUD adjusted for low-light conditions. The Marines around him started to slowly walk down the corridor, their rifles at the ready. They had set their rifles to the stun setting as Rheinland didn't want unnecessary casualties in the seizure of Bonn...
Helmut sits behind his desk in his spacious office, the morning had been dull and the night very quiet. Literally nothing happend, not even a transport getting hit in Stuttgart, something that normally happens on a daily basis. His office was messy, it was clear that it had not been cleaned in a week, he stood up to get another cup of coffee.
From the adjecent room, wich served as a hub in the Synth Foods office alarms rang and lights started flashing. A metallic voice came over the emergency intercom: "Bonn Station is under attack. Battleship Strausberg has opened fire against our turrents. Transports with marines have been seen heading towards several airlocks. Proceed to your nearest emergency point and stand by for further instructions."
The 23 employees in the room looked at each other in shock, nobody expected this conflict to escalate further. "Mein gott!" Helmut said. "Alexander, Kevin start up emergency shut down for fleet coordination! Get fleet central on hold and tell them they will have to take over coordination!" The controllers turned back to their desk, a large screen showing all of Rheinlands trade lane system and its bordering systems. There where still a fair few Yellow Dots on the screen, with shipnames and data next to them.
"Frederich, do a head count. I want to know who is in our office and who is off duty! Get in touch with those who are off duty. Have them go their appartements!" Helmut Barked again towards a management assistant who quickly got to work. "Sabine, lock our doors, we're on the same deck as the interspace control, the marines will probably head there first."
Helmut walked towards the meeting room, his assistant followed him. "Check when the back-up has been sent to LA, destroy all local files after that. I'm gonna see if I can get someone on the line who can help us."
There used to be pictures here
once known as Richard Farbridge, OBE and Ronaldo Benitez
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"And, of course, our transport's more than capable of carrying even the more delicate of―"
"Bonn Station is under attack. Battleship Strausberg has opened fire against our turrets. Transports with marines have been seen heading towards several airlocks. Proceed to your nearest emergency point and stand by for further instructions. Repeat: Bonn Station is under attack..."
"Herr Gouldi, I think we have to postpone this contract for now."
A quick nod in response. The two men sprinted in opposite directions. Being a Rheinlander is a proud and dangerous thing, these days. Nobody is innocent of this. Even ALG has had our part to play... I hope I shall survive long enough to see the outcome.
A door being opened, and a neural net terminal rejecting the frantically-typed password once, twice. Ah-ha. I shall contact the Dortmund transport offices and I will be off of this unlucky station in time... I hope so.
Frederick did one final prep check on his H.ARM MK III battle-suit, smiling mentally about the name, frowning over his task.
A mechanical voice ringed out over the grainy speakers, "Latch in 5... 4..."
"This is Oberleutnant Bernhard, all systems are prepped." The transport shuddered as it latched onto the hanger bay. "I am entering der station now."
The doors of the transport opened slowly. As the ramp lowered lights started to flicker to life, the suit shined brightly as it thundered out into the hanger bay. Standing at eight feet the war machine was intimidating to say the least, armed with a plethora of weapons it could easily handle any threat a well armed military could throw at it, let alone any threat poor security force would have its hands on. Luckily for the civilians most of these weapons remained offline, for now.
Toggling his comm Frederick reports in, "I have arrived on-station, will commence battle-readiness protocols, und patrol the corridors for resistance. Only der MKII Grenade launcher, with gas rounds, und stun-pulse autocannon shells are active. Again, I'll remain on standby for further orders, commencing patrol." Doing a quick double check Frederick toggled his display making sure the safeties were in-fact active as he mutters, "Gut, everything checks out... getting hit by a depleted uranium penetrator round would be... messy.."
Switching to local comms Frederick cautioned the marine contingent infront of him to step aside, although the rancorous sound of his metal walker's weight crashing down into the floor plates was warning enough. Turning his head Frederick caught a glimpse of a strange ranking on one of the marines' suits...
"Herr Gunther, it was a pleasure doing business with you." Greg stood up, this IC shenanigan was making it a good time to be a businessman. Jay would be impressed, Greg had secured a number of supply contracts based on the fact the IND could just about afford to underwrite it's own insurance for the haulage.
"Bonn Station is under attack. Battleship Strausberg has opened fire against our turrets. Transports with marines have been seen heading towards several airlocks. Proceed to your nearest emergency point and stand by for further instructions."
"Testicles!" Greg shouted out loud, why now? Why invade now? Of all days. Greg didn't want to be stuck on Bonn all bloody week next to these cattle. Greg was distraught, the local IND offices were closer, but the Comfortably Rich was moored just a few short elevator rides, and moving walkways away...But that way also lay Rheinwher marines, intent on causing havoc. Besides Jay would kill him if he didn't at least check on the office staff. Sighing loudly Greg hustled to the IND offices, as fast as his frame would allow.
Saint Del is considered a holy healer of diseases of children, but also as a protector of cattle.
Clean and shiny, hell yeah Olaf, you did it again!
Said Olaf to himself while he finished mopping the hallway of level 67.
"Bonn Station is under attack. Battleship Strausberg has opened fire against our turrets. Transports with marines have been seen heading towards several airlocks. Proceed to your nearest emergency point and stand by for further instructions."
What!? Oh snap the whole station will be a mess after this, I better get ready.
Olaf ran through the hallway, the sound of Daumann crowd-killers could be heard on the lower levels.
He stopped at a door with a keypad next to it, a small plaque was soldered to it.
"Janitor only"
Come on hurry up.
Olaf typed in the password CL34NFTW.
The inside was bigger thant one would imagine. The room was filled with all kinds of tools. Olaf walked towards a hanging black suit, it had picked dust due to lack of use.
Saving this for a rainy day.
He said to himself smiling.
Dust scanner, UV vision, dry ice cannons, Industrial cleaner launcher, and the Star-sucker mk3 high performance heavy-duty vacuum. This ought to be fun.
Olaf put on his armored suit as quick as he could.
I ain't letting no marine make a mess of my station.
"You know, nothing will ever change. Especially when it comes to houses and their business crap. Sure they got into a little argument, but you know how long it takes to really change things. Could be weeks.. even months before anything is done about this whole 'economical issue.'.. I'm right and you know it Franz! Our job is pointless!"
Franz opened the room to where they had been staying for the past several days and stepped through, closing the door behind them.
"Kurtt, just shut up. We're here to observe and record. So just do your job."
The two looked at each other angrily.
"Pft. That's why YOU'RE here. I'm here for the action! Hell ya!... Oh, but guess what? There is none!"
"No you dumby! You're here for MY protection and that's the only reason you're here. Since someone can't keep a gun down for 5 seconds, I was chosen to lead this operation."
"Operation? What operation?! All we do is sit around, wait, and listen for any traffic on the comms. I mean really! When do I get to shoot something!?"
Franz took off his glasses and slammed them on the table. He had his head down as he took a deep sigh.
"Kurtt... for the last time... that's not what you're here for. Okay?"
Franz lifted his head back up, staring into Kurtt's eyes.
"Hey, hey! Don't look at me like tha-!"
"Bonn Station is under attack. Battleship Strausberg has opened fire against our turrets. Transports with marines have been seen heading towards several airlocks. Proceed to your nearest emergency point and stand by for further instructions."
The two of them nodded to each other. Franz grabbed his holo-pad and quickly plugged it into the terminal in their room as Kurtt pulled out his Dublin Dustbuster plasma rifle. He opened the door a bit, peeking outside. For the moment it was calm, but soon people would be filling the halls with commotion, running from the incoming marines.
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"Stück Dreck! Verdammt Maschine..." An error message, an abundance of revoked access. "Maybe one of the other terminals functions properly. I haven't the time for this scheiÃe now!
The sound of footsteps falling rapidly and heavily on the floor, and a clunk of two skulls colliding as they ran around the opposite ends of a corner. A face, red with nervousness and frustration, turning to look at its counterpart. "You're trying to get out of here too, aren't you? I can tell."
"So, the deal is simple. 20 million credits, sent through a legal organisation, in return for the I-1-273. Good?"
Ijin extended his hand across to the man infront of him. He was trying to keep the business as short and professional as possible, he wasn't use to dealing with these people and he didn't fancy staying any longer than he had to, especially as the cameras in the room would be online again soon.
"Perhaps. Is that the robot in that crate?"
Ijin started to feel nervous. The man he was talking to wasn't anything extraordinary in terms of strength or build, he was a slight man with narrow shoulders and a small head.
The more worrying aspects were his two friends and their individual bodyguards. Together they numbered five and he numbered one, and they were no doubt armed.
"Yes, however it still needs to be activated by myself and our central command unit."
The man, who referred to himself as Alexander Scholtz, turned to his friends and gave the slightest nod, at which they took out what Ijin thought were Detroit made blasters.
"I am afraid that we will be taking the robot as a gift and leaving your body here as a gift to your company."
The main thought running through Ijin's head was one of panic. He did not want to die. Not today, nor tomorrow. He wanted to live.
"I-I'm sure we can work something our Mr Scholtz! Jus-just put the guns down and we can talk about thi-"
"Bonn Station is under attack. Battleship Strausberg has opened fire against our turrets. Transports with marines have been seen heading towards several airlocks. Proceed to your nearest emergency point and stand by for further instructions."
As the message rang out, Ijin noticed the men look away. Taking it as his chance he gave the crate a kick, while pushing off it towards the nearby room door.
Shouting after him, the men's blasters rang loud as they released high powered shots in the small room, burying themselves in the walls.
Ijin was out of the door before they could fire again and running down the corridor towards a more public, central area, hopefully crowded with people.
Glancing down as he ran, he pulled a small holo-pad out of his pocket and searched for nearby signals. Finding what he wanted, he inputted his security code and began the start up sequence.
Soon Scholtz might be the one run running.
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