And Then Everyone Clapped

[Shelco]

Dresden system Sector 6-F, 830 A.S.

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8 Hours earlier

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"Thank you, Herr Botzler, we barely got out of that mess but the cargo is still intact." The freighter pilot's voice was distorted by the damage inflicted on the ship, one engine was damaged and several emergency systems were running at full speed.

"I'm sorry I didn't respond sooner, the distress call came as a surprise, I wasn't even at the ship yet." I replied, nodding in the direction of the transporter pilot. The convoy was approaching Bautzen. What was originally a freighter and two escort ships had become a single freighter.

"Can you manage the rest of the way on your own?"

"Yes, we shouldn't encounter any more surprises from here, thanks again for the help, Paustian out." We left formation and parted ways. Just as I was entering new coordinates into the on-board computer, I received a transmission.

"Mr. Botzler, are you receiving me? Over." I was still calibrating the signal; it didn't seem to travel well through the fog. Maybe it was the mine that hit me in the fight. After a few seconds, the signal became clearer.

"Ms. Seidel, I'm receiving you, how can I help?" I replied, fully hoping not to get myself into the next fight.

"You need to get to Bruchsal immediately, you won't believe what I just picked up." The activist's voice was excited but also tense, as if she didn't know whether your communication would cause joy and concern.

"What's wrong?" I asked worriedly, it must have been due to the course of the day so far, but I was already imagining various horror scenarios.

"It's about Klugmann, I don't know how, but he's back, he's back and he's supposed to show up here soon, some former VWA members have been talking about it." I gazed into the void of space for a few seconds, stunned, unsure of how I would react to this message. Various thoughts popped into my head, but none seemed to offer an appropriate response. I swallowed hard and broke the silence.

Bruchsal Base, Frankfurt System, 830 A.S.

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Few minutes before the speech

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There was a tense atmosphere at Bruchsal, the kind I normally only knew from anniversaries and other events where controversial figures were giving their speeches. I myself was not quite there either. I was walking, no, almost jogging through the narrow and metallic hallways of the station. I was too focused to notice the activists greeting me, at that moment feeling again like a young student who snagged the chance to see a famous lecturer.

When I finally reached the great hall, I sensed the uncertainty in the expressions of those present. A buzz of nervousness wafted through the hall, as if half of the activists who were here didn't even imagine that Klugmann was actually going to appear. I was lucky to find a seat, I hadn't sat in the audience for so long, next to the others, I was missing it a bit. I found myself sitting next to an older gentleman who was looking stoically ahead. We exchanged a quick glance, I smiled at him, he did not. I took a seat and waited a few moments. Then he actually came, Erich Klugmann, the man who, as I would have it, wanted to change the Bundschuh in the long run, instead of just pushing it forward. The man I thought was dead and whose influence I wanted to preserve was now standing there as if it were a day like any other.

When Klugmann entered the hall, it immediately trembled. For many here it must have been a relief not to be disappointed, the man they had been promised actually made his appearance. Contrary to everyone's thoughts, Erich Klugmann was not dead. I could hardly believe it myself, I stared as he stepped onto the podium, in no world could I expect what he would have to say, whether he would justify himself, apologize. But my companions felt the same way, as quickly as the hall awoke, it also retreated into deepest silence and a sense of wonder, allowing Klugmann to speak again for the first time.

...

By the end of his speech, I was immersed in thought. By now I was practically lying in my seat, my glance was directed toward the floor, I had been rubbing my forehead and pondering for the last ten minutes. I felt as if I had been shaken for hours. It took a long time for the hall to empty. Klugmann's words were like bullets fired into the rows. I understood what he meant, felt his frustration but was sure that there was a strong fighting spirit behind it. For sure he had not arisen to give the Bundschuh a verbal beating, something had to happen, he must have said that not without reason.

"I wonder if he heard about us..." I thought to myself. What he would make of our movement. His tone may be more belligerent than it was mine when we announced our move, but in essence we were saying the same thing. I couldn't just let the words sit, I had to address Klugmann on them. But I was well aware that I was probably not alone in this.

I struggled to pull myself up from my seat, which was by now part of my back. I dragged my coat through the empty rows and headed toward the exit, still in thought.

I did not want to persuade myself that I could win him over to our cause, but I would have been lying to myself if that had not been desirable.

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