Resistance is salvageable

[TheProphet]

Jen Lowes

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From: Jens Lowe
To: Marianne Lowe

Dear Mother,

We have been given a short list of items we are allowed to bring into the secure area, and sadly we can only use assigned equipment. You know my love for this old thing, I’m sending it to you so you can keep it safe. Perhaps it will be an interesting read, at least something to remember me by in case something happens.

Love,
Jens

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16/04/822

The Morgensonne landed in a hurry today, the pilot nearly tore off the lower side of the cargo pod straps and damn near half the landing bay. Ugh, the manifolds on the blast deflectors are going to need fixing. Nothing impossible to solve, but I cannot say any of the engineers were pleased. Martin wanted to jump at the nearest crewmember as soon as they disembarked, two of us had to hold the mountain down just to avoid any further damage.

The sight of pilots and crews frantically running between their crafts and the dock elevator is something I got used to a few days after starting my employment here, but the speed with which that crew left their ship would probably make the most strict drill sergeants of the Rheinwehr blush.

Not two hours later, we caught sight of a very bulky man running around the deck, stopping every now and then to scratch his head. He looked so lost that at some point he started leaning against the shoddy railing near the fuel pumps. The thing might as well be cardboard, it cannot support the weight of someone like him for long so I approached to see what he was looking for - He was a mess.

I had to spend about a quarter of an hour calming him down. He limply took my hand and started speaking with a light and shaky voice. The man apologized for the mess, for the inconvenience, for the damage, for everything wrong in the world and extended us an invite to the Embassy after our shifts. Apparently something amazing happened. The rest of the dock crew was not about to start complaining about free drinks, and you could feel the curiosity in the air.

We arrived there as soon as we could, to find half the crew already spread across the floor. Apparently they found two fully salvageable Hels in the Sigmas. It’s a miracle, the Hessians usually abandon those ships as soon as they get damaged but there they were, two perfectly good Hels - Thankless beasts.

They said there would be a call for skilled specialists soon, wonder what will come of it all.

24/04/822

Usually when there is a call for work, you expect to hear something over the PA system - A metallic voice blaring “Engineers of the VWA, your talents are required. Serve the party, report to our representative on Deck F”. What you do not expect is to hear jackboots marching towards your station, and when you look up to see several very serious men with Eistochter’s insignia etched into their uniform. Apparently, someone heard me talking about Hels last night and they thought some of our crew would be perfect for the job.

We followed them to an office on Deck D, where they told us that we have an opportunity to serve the party’s interests. Apparently us and some of the guys from Dock B have impressed the right people, and we are being given the chance to serve the party and get paid well. They did not share too many specifics about the task at hand. All they mentioned was what we had already heard, it was something related to refitting Hels in the Omicrons. We would receive the rest of the info as soon as we hit the Sigmas.

They said time was of the essence, and we needed to make the decision right now. For better or worse, I raised my hand immediately. Blinded by credits, no? Times have been hard on both me and mother, she can no longer work, the prices have been rising - We could use the credits. I wouldn’t be opposed to a change in scenery either. Bruchsal is my home, but I have been staring at the asteroids bouncing off of the docking port deflectors for far too long.

I can barely sleep. This pit in my stomach keeps expanding and expanding, it feels uncomfortable to lie down. What was I thinking? The Omicrons, mein Gott, the Omicrons. They are absolute insanity, that’s why there are so many credits on the line. If the freighter doesn’t get intercepted by pirates, we have to dodge genocidal aliens and fanatical zealots. Not to even mention how some Order pilots can be.

Nobody even asked if we are leaving anybody behind, nobody cares even slightly. With some luck, I will be able to wire payments to mother - we might even be able to afford hired help. Otherwise, it might have been a big mistake to accept this assignment.

I will have to talk to the officer who briefed us soon.

26/04/822

I gave the decision some thought, weighed my options and accepted. What else could I do? Part of me thinks this could be the assignment to finally move me up, but the other part really does not care. You have to stay close to home, there is nobody left to care for what is left of the family. It screams at me relentlessly even now. I guess it could be worse, at least Martin decided to stay and I asked him to care for mother - He is a good friend, I know I can count on him if the worst occurs.

There wasn’t really much time to pack. Once we received the call, we were told to bring the bare minimum, and that we have to decide what that means within the next six hours. I took some clothes, my datapad and my small notebook. Some basic, personally calibrated equipment. I trust the Order security will not mind, although they are very adamant about their regulations. Comes with the territory, I suppose. The rest of the passengers are good people, all sorts of backgrounds, all sorts of fields of work. One of the radio engineers is apparently a covert operative on Oder Shipyard. Says he is the reason why we know so much about the movements of civilian traffic. Strange man.

We still haven’t been briefed, despite the many many pleas from some of the other passengers. All is on a need to know basis, and we will be told our exact duties only once we reach the end of Omicron Minor. Unlike the others I actually have fair confidence in our safety, despite my earlier drama. The Vagabund is one of the Kommandants’ ships and I took the chance to have a look at it before take off. The hull looks good - it comes with what you’d expect from quality Daumann engineering, in addition to custom reinforcements done on Bruchsal. Nothing special to note with the shields, standard issue positron deflectors, but it comes armed with 8 Flammenwerfer-C2s. Power core is very generous, I dread when I think about how much MOX it eats.

This marks my second cycle on the Vagabund. We are just off of the jump-hole to what’s known as Omicron Minor, prepping our hypersleep chambers. Surprisingly modern gear - Apparently it’s some modular tech the Order uses for transporting their personnel on long distance deep space excursions. Green window port on top of a sleek metallic silver hull with various warnings on the side. Not the look I would choose, but I cannot complain if it does its job well.

We passed by Freeport 7 recently. It looks haunting - hard to believe nobody tried to demolish it yet and that the whole situation had a very small impact on the people planetside.
There’s the red light. Time to leave this thing and strap myself in the pod. The trip to, through and from Minor will be a long one. After that, it’s a relatively short flight to our new workplace, Evora Shipyard.

27/04/822

I don’t think I’ll ever get used to hypersleep pods. I’ve been in them once or twice before and I always feel somehow wrong when I exit them.

We had a surprisingly quiet trip through Minor. No alerts, nothing. The crew says it was eerily quiet, but they were kept safe by two Order interceptors based from some battleship in Omicron 100. The video logs I reviewed were very discomforting. Scanners barely work due to the massive interference from the Nebula as well as planetary debris, and when they do work they pick up stray signals from wrecked Order and Core interceptors. Chatting with one of the Order pilots, he said that the Nomads used the fighting as a diversion while they deployed a superweapon and enacted what is now known as the Toledo massacre. Neither side is particularly proud of this, although they still continue fighting like children.

An Order officer finally came out and briefed us on what we’re going to be doing. We all got assigned our roles officially and received Order datapads with all the necessary blueprints for our respective sides. Looks like they have performed scarily extensive background checks, and decided that my best role would be to work on the engines. I can’t complain, honestly I can’t wait to see what kind of tech they have in store on the shipyard.

One thing we were very adamantly told was that we were not allowed to bring in any personal tablets for security reasons. Nonsense, absolute nonsense. I spent a good long time arguing and pleading with the lanky official- I hate to admit it, but I became so frustrated at one point that the rest of the crew had to step up and tell me to relax. I agree I might have overstepped my boundaries, but I cannot be expected to work without my personally calibrated tools and something to unwind with. At least they tell us that we will have everything provided. Now it’s only a matter of what the Order believes “everything” means.

Docking procedure is starting, I’ll leave this thing here with some other goods they told us we couldn’t bring. Hopefully the crew will stay true to their word and deliver this to my family back on Bruchsal.

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