It was dark already when he stepped outside the ship once again. At these times, Brahms liked to walk around the cargo bay alone, measuring his steps as he walked. It was a routine he had picked up without realizing - to glance at the length of every compartment and part, hear the echoes through the metal plating, feel the cold temperature of the ground.
He wasn't inspecting the integrity of the ship or something like the part, no - he left that for his engineers or the right people - he was doing that as if saluting someone. Himself, most likely. Except for today.
Walking behind him was Dr. Hayes, holding two datapads on her hands. She kept running numbers on her head and through the machines, tracing identifications from one to another, plans and consultations as they went along.
- "Are you sure this will work?" - Allan already had realized that her voice sounded a lot louder when she didn't agree with something, but right now, as they moved through the empty dock to the back of the Heron, it was echoing through the whole hangar. - "I mean, we could just ask the Zoners for a proper vessel, you certainly got the resources for one, I don't see why we need to go around all Sirius making a fuzz waiting and waiting while asking for attenti-"
- "Dr. Hayes, what is your point exactly?" - Brahms slowed down, touching the hull as he spoke. - "I have already concurred that you are right - that is the easiest way out."
- "But- well, we are- why are we still here then? Why have you not contacted them?" - She sounded puzzled. Allan's answer came out quick.
- "Because I want to." - He chuckled. - "I don't understand if it's fear or practicality but you seem to miss this point time and time again, so I will repeat myself until you get it." - He said, stopping to face her, ending the discussion through a smile. - "We are doing this because I want to."
It was already half past the first of the morning when he realized he had spent the last hours of his Wednesday staring out the window of his apartment. The time of the day had made his living room considerably darker, but Brahms had not turned on any of the lights.
Stuttgart, out there, was more silent then most days. He could see the small ships taking flight and moving from side to side, the lights of downtown following them like spotlights on a showroom of conformity, but the rain on his window was hardly noticeable. Cold or quiet, the discrete white noise droned out any intruding sound that remained. Quite frankly, he was enjoying it.
He sat near the window. Tie undone, cold glass on one hand and the other arm swallowed in med gel to his wrist. The wound of the last encounter near Freeport 11 had yet to heal fully, but that wasn't on his mind at the time. The real pain blinded the discomfort, blended with the alcohol. He was having whiskey that night.
He was thinking about the past. The years he worked with a broken moral compass - a misguided one, at least. All these people, he thought, that stood left behind, hurt, forgotten, unfed. The fights, the riots, the political clashes. Who were wrong, who was not and where did he fit in all of that.
His mind wandered back, far back, thirty years prior at least. He remembered of his first days in commerce, when he planned having time to find a family, to find friends, to build a laid back future. His younger self was sure that with fifty years of age he'd have more than his finances ready for half the time of a life in some rich, secluded cabin on the mountains of New Berlin. His younger self was partly right.
What he had never thought of was how lonely it would feel.
How odd was to imagine that all the people he worked with, the many ones he paid off or in, swaying contracts on way or another, were either dead or at home, laying next to their wives or husbands, thinking about how would they name their next child or where would they settle down next year. Yet he, the one deemed more successful than any of them, sat at this cold window in Stuttgart's downtown.
It was a justified feeling, he told himself, to feel invisible in all of this. Impotent, even, not feeling able to sway facts on way or another. The situation in New Berlin wasn't going to improve any time soon, New London was yet under siege, Liberty smelled like sewage as always and Kusari still had no proper ruler - it was beginning to feel like nothing good would ever come out of this.
Joining the Consensus was much of a vacation as an opportunity. To be able to take some distance from the Houses was something his perspective needed much more than he had realized before - but that wasn't exactly gonna last. His home wasn't on the Omicrons, it was on Rheinland.
Annika crossed his mind, as he tasted the sour wooden colored liquid.
She was young, naive, almost innocent, but there was something on her that reminded him of something bigger. Maybe it was the fact that she fought for an outnumbered hundred year old movement, or that she could have very much been the daughter he never had. Maybe it was both. Either way, objectively, the reality of the situation unnerved him.
His options were not many - but at the very least they existed.
Quitting was on the table. He could move away, change his home, alter his name, buy an one way ticket somewhere - he certainly had the resources to do so, all he needed was a few phone calls.
Staying home was also an option. Looking over the Brahms Estate, organizing his finances, making investments and laying low would be more than enough to make sure he would never need another day of work in his life.
Sticking to what he was doing - moving cargo, feeding people, improving the fighting chances of those who had little - was the last one. Choosing struggle over complacency. Over the show room above Stuttgart.
He took a glance at the glass, then back again through the window, letting a few emotions rush through. Maybe it was time to settle. Maybe it was time to stop. Find someone, perhaps.
- "Yooou okay boss?"
He had not heard the entrance, but there was Toulouse. His crew slept downstairs and he thought he wouldn't run into a single soul up at this hour but, then again, if Toulouse had one of those or collected them, he would not know.
- "No, seriously, you alright?" - The youngster sat on the table nearby. - "Staring outside and stuff, you don't look so good."
Seeing the naive energy all he could do was try and shake off a shy smile.
- "I'm okay Tou. Sorry if I woke you up."
- "Nahw, I like hearin' the rain see. It calms me down." Eyes closed, hands pointing to the years, Toulouse kept speaking with the melodic voice. - "No need for mooousique when clouds are like this."
Brahms laughed, reaching her a Soda from the fridge.
- "Thanks thanks."
- "You ever miss home?" - He spoke almost too fast, losing grasp of the words as they came. - "Gallia I mean. You miss it?"
- "WhywouldI?" - The words came crumbling mixed with the Soda, as drinking and speaking became the same thing at the same time.
- "I mean really really? After all this moving up and down, dancing through the stars, getting shot at by blue gooey stuff, meeting Hex, running from Hayes, toying with snoring Geppetto and his daughter back there you wanna know if I miss Gal-ia?" - Both shoulders propped up. - "Nah."
Allan wasn't sure if she was trying to be supportive or just being honest, before reaching any conclusions, however, more words kept coming.
- "Besides, boss, you're the only grand-mère who didn't throw me out of an air lock. Well, not gently, at least."
There was a small moment of silence before he couldn't hold back anymore. Allan laughed, sincerely, for what it felt like like the first time in several years. Toulouse just smiled.
Allan was few feet away from the window, overseeing the last cargo shipment being unloaded by the dockworkers down below. As he was paid the transport service he had contracted he noticed the govern legal missive he had to fill in. "More paperwork." He thought to himself as he sat down to fill them.
Stuttgart's docks were far from suitable for the next step of the operation. He had amassed quite the number of resources on the past month or so, shipping the odd commodity to Stuttgart and keeping some of them stocked. The warehouse he had rented had increased in size twice already, but it wouldn't be necessary to do it once more. With the acceptance of the University of Cambridge to help, he had everything he needed.
A lot would change on the upcoming weeks. While a great part of his crew had been relieved from duty. Dietrich, Hannelore and Toulouse were on Bretonia already, settling down on Planet Cambridge. Hex had taken a few days off, but Allan knew he'd be back in time. Kailyn, however, had returned to planet Erie to spend a few days with her daughter and would be returning one day late. Brahms, in the other hand, believed that were not for the fact he had to oversee the deliveries, he'd be sitting in the University already. He felt like the student he once was, leaving for Bretonia on his seventeenth birthday.
- "Well, there you have it." - He turned in the legal documents, shaking hands with of one of the hired captains. - "All documents are in order, I hope?"
- "Hm." - The foreign captain took a prolonged glance over them, turning a smug frown into one of acceptance after a while. - "Aye, it looks like they are. You may expect the cargo to be within Bretonia in a week or two."
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Dr. Hayes Log :: Resource Logs![[Image: iuBiGXG.png]](https://imgur.com/iuBiGXG.png)