Felix Wenner, or the story of a broken life

[Zerstorer]

“So, hatred is bad for you. Big deal. Is it still bad when it becomes a driving force, a motivation to accomplish a goal other than just getting vengeance?

“Well, alright, alright. I want vengeance too. My family was torn when my father was killed by the late Chancellor Niemann's cronies during the Nomad War. He was with the Bundschuh – for years he had yapped on about fighting for what you believed was right, but I, young, stupid and utterly idiot that I was, scoffed at him.

“A few days before everything went to hell and the Military pounced on Kusari borders like some rabid wolf, we were all detained by the Rheinlandspolizei and interrogated mercilessly about everything, ranging from our political beliefs to day-to-day activities. Of course, I knew jack about anything—then the world came crashing down on me when the bad guy of the typical detective duo threatened with having me through the same that had befallen my dad if I didn't come clean... and the good guy said that my dad had died of a heart attack during a long interrogatory.

“I snapped. I don't remember how I ended up with my hands broken. I spent three weeks in solitary confinement after that—a guard told me that the good detective still could not speak, and they were going to gut me for that. I had tried to choke him to death. 'A heart attack during an interrogatory', I grumbled back. Riiiiiight. F***ing cops!

“Then some human rights lawyer came up and got me out of jail. The whole of Sirius had been torned upside down, then set straight again, while I was in slammer. The media was ablaze with stories of political terrorism, sabotage and torture, all instigated by the mad Chancellor in his bid for absolute dominion – but that sloppy attempt at concealing everything fell down like a house of cards when I read about uprisings in Kusari and Liberty as well. Yeah, sure, that's just the Chancellor's doing. Blame the dead, they can't fight back, I thought.

“'Coincidentally', this lawyer turned up to be 'an acquaintance' of my father's, a leftover from his militant days as one of the Bundschuh when it had not been yet outlawed. He saw right through me – and said that just going after the minions wasn't going to change jack if the chessmasters weren't removed. 'And who are the chessmasters?' I had asked. He warned me that knowing the answer was crossing the event horizon – once I knew, there was no turning back.

“'F*** that! The bastards killed my father and turned my mum into a wreck! I'll get even with them all. Even if I have to burn all of Sirius to ashes.'

“Tall words. But I was mad. My world was destroyed, and whatever innocence I still had had been brutally torn out of me, and I still felt the red, gaping maw it had left inside. So I crossed the line, and demanded the answer. He just pointed me to Bruchsal, and gave me a password, and an alias to seek there.

“I was in for a rude awakening. These weren't just political activists – they were a full fledged illegal armada, complete with fighters, soldiers, ranks. And death. Fighting for your beliefs had a very real weight there, and these men put it all in the line for that. Some were like me. Some others just couldn't bear to live any other way.

“The alias I had to look for was one 'Herr Schmidt'. A total nobody, at first glance. But this Schmidt told me just what I needed to know to pique my interest. 'Rheinland is a society of puppeteers', he said. 'Soldiers are the puppets of politicians. Politicians are the puppets of corporate money. And corporate money is in turn the puppet of something else.'

“Then I learned a lot about the Nomads. Most of it was delirious ranting and dead wrong, I learned later, but a few, unmistakable truths remained: Rheinland had been hit by a cargo train in full speed. Nobody could have known about the Nomads, and the aliens exploited the edge for all it was worth. And they would have succeeded, had the Order not stepped in. I heard tales of many who had died to make that victory possible – those who had mustered the courage to stand against a foe with an almost insurmontable firepower and technological advantage, and those who had given it all to protect the men and women that found their weakness and a way to exploit it. 'Your dad was a hero, Felix', Schmidt said. 'Not even in death did he betray Von Clausen to the RP. Had he done that, probably Rheinland, even with all its faults, would not exist now.'”

“Someone else among the Bundschuh saw me talking to Schmidt and judged me worthy enough of meeting one of these unsung heroes. I was blindfolded, taken into a ship, and shipped out of Rheinland to meet the man my father had died to protect – Herr Von Clausen. He shed not a tear when I told him about my dad, but hugged me like he was my own when he heard about my family. 'Tough times... these are tough times for us. The enemy has suffered just a setback, a massive one at that, but they will come back. Already their proxies walk among us.'

“'And who are they?'

“'Das Wild.' A bunch of heavily guarded men had us escorted through a medical facility where corpses had been dissected to expose the hideous truths beneath their skins – men and women changed, corrupted by alien parasites. I was scared beyond words. Now humans could not be just humans, but also aliens in disguise: wolves in sheep clothing. My father had always ranted against them, people who preached to have our best interests at heart, but had agendas –sinister agendas– they carefully concealed. Probably he had a different kind of wolf in mind, but I had found another one, much more dangerous and craftier.

“'I won't let them', I vowed them. 'Turncoats like these destroyed my life. Damn straight I'll destroy their own lives and plans like they did with mine.' And with that vow, came a callsign – Zerstörer, destroyer. And a promise to wear it proudly someday, along with the colors and the banner of those who were the first line of defense against the alien threat.

“I was shipped back to Rheinland and set up by a contact with a fledgling Libertonian trading venture known as Tesla Shipping. The Order not only needs men, it also needs money to pay for them, I was told, and it was as good a truth as I had ever heard. It's been two years since then, and now I have been given a trade charter by my company – to sail where I choose to, to ship what I can within legal boundaries, and to profit from it. Now I have the money, and a ship I have commissioned at Kusari, the most powerful ship a civilian can afford.

“And now, on top of an enemy, I have a means to fight it. They shall not ruin more lives. They shall not win.”