War Torn Start

[Miaou]

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10th of Febuary, 827 A.S. - Omega-3

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This wasn't what he expected at all.

Standing in a corridor of the infamous Freeport One, he was entirely out of place and it showed. To him, everyone looked out of place. Strange. Punkish almost. Yet, they all looked at him. Maybe it was his directionless gaze. Perhaps it was because he looked too Bretonian. He heard they do not much like Bretonians here due to the conflicts.

An arm shove as a grizzled man went by told him the actual reason. He was standing still in a main causeway. An excusing cough to nobody in particular and he continued on his way. He wasn't actually headed anywhere specific. His ship needed to be fueled to make the rest of the trek to Rheinland and this was the first time either off a military compound, station, or Bretonian Planet since Liberty. Given, this was greatly influenced by Bretonian customs but there were baby steps to be had.

He had about an hour to kill while his ship was fitted to make the journey. In truth he spent a day here already, booking a simple room and stayed in it all day just resting. He tried to get used to the concept of not having obligations. No task from the board, no orders. He could do whatever he wanted. At least until he remember to actually order a refit and refuel of his ship. After those needs came to him he cursed himself while pulling up the request log on the neural net for the station only to laugh at himself as there was no actual rush to it. If he really wanted he could simply stay on the freeport for years.

Yet he had set a goal. Rheinland. The neighboring house. So for now he just had to wait for his Anki to be ready. He got food from the station cafeteria, wandered the accessways and arteries of the port, and took a glance at the famous biodomes. He still never understood why they made them so vulnerable.

At a point, he spotted some Rheinlandic figures, a trade crew likely, coming down the hall. His chest stiffened and he turned, pivoting to go down an adjacent route. They went by without issue.

Hand on his chest, he breathed for a few moments. This was another reason he decided to go for Rheinland. Rheinlanders were hated by many within Bretonia and apparently that was a long held feeling of most throughout the sector. It stemmed back to the Nomad War, some further back to the Eighty-Year War. He held those prejudices against them until he decided the location for his trip. There was no actual reason to believe the current Rheinland would be still responsible for what happened decades ago. He wanted to see for himself.

Remembering himself, he almost started to walk again to not be in the way once more only to notice nobody seemed to be coming this way. It was a dead end hallway with a few offices for various businesses. Turning to go towards the end of the hall, he looked at the different signs next to the door. An insurance agency. A vending machine nook. What could only be a late cycle brothel of some type. His gaze aimlessly wandered to whatever took his attention, the last being a simple message board on the wall. Strolling over, it seemed to be a local advertisement-style, but anyone could put up messages.

Some where funny. Joke messages about finding their lost sanity, job offers for unnamed work with just a contact marker, station-specific bartering of personal goods. Some of the advertisements were for off station such as for shipping work to Cambridge or long haul flights to Rheinland. Contract work for engineers, mega-corp hiring notices. He casually looked over them all without retaining much of the information. One, however, caught his attention a bit longer than the rest.

THE GRIGORI TO TAKE THE SKIES

Omicrons - The rumours have been found accurate. Within a year's time the mythical leviathan ships made in the outer edge worlds are said to be shipping out to various political factions. It is said a few are to be made for long distance exploration, others to colonize new planets. The core world's discarded people, the Zoners, are at it again with their wild construction plans. This newly created fleet and style, dubbed the "Grigori", are doing final preparations. Calls for crew and maintainance has been put forth for engineering technitians, agricultural overseers, botanists, flight crew...

The advertisement went on giving more calls to make this undertaking sound as crazy and mystical as possible. He was about to move to the next advert before his comm-link chimed. Pulling out the little slate, runes glowed on its surface. The notification was the dock crew informing him the ship was ready. He tapped a few symbols to confirm and send the payment. Looking up he saw the advertisement again. Grigori. What a strange word. A swipe of his fingers saw the advertisement pulled into his link before it was shoved into his pocket to be forgotten once more.

Rheinland bound now.

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