Corin's mouth had fallen into a list; an irregular slant. To look at him is to see an expression, half measure of wry and a half measure of faith, pulling at either end of his cheekbones.
Unioners and Corsairs were the products of dissimilar philosophies, upheld by dissimilar organizations. The Unioners worked within Sirius's industrial heartland, while the Corsairs chip at the edges. In the eyes of the Corporations, Corsairs and Unionists are incomparable parasites, as dissimilar as viruses and bacteria. Unionists are the rebelling passengers of this infernal engine, while the Corsairs run before the wheels.
Yet despite the differences in their natures, Corin sensed no division. Either side of the chamber shared a common clarity.
“We are of one mind. Fredrich, allow me..."
In kinship, Frei touches his hand to the datapad, taken by Fredrich from the secretarial adjutant'. As his handprint handshakes Corin's biometric record, the seal of the Syndicates - an emerald disc, encapsulated by an iridium Cog.
“We offer an economy of scale - a depth of capacity. We are in a war. Your people are the war-fighters, we are the logisticians. Crete has the reach to span the sector, Pacifica offers a street-level permeation of the Rheinland underworld. Might and precision. "
Frei raises his gaze.
"Jim was the first, he will not be the last. Heritage is a continuous cycle of firsts. Of brave, judicious acts. Enterprise is effort applied, to a functional purpose. Our agreement is in the domain of material commerce, of shared productive effort. To prevent its dilution, in this domain our agreement must remain. I will not offer any amendments..."
Willi, the guard Frei brevetted into a waiter, arrives, carrying five onate glasses atop of what looked to be a soldering pad.
"...But it need not be the limit of our relationship. Dimitrious, if you would allow me to sample your gift with treasured guests.. after all, it is our custom to share such bounties. For I propose a toast, as binding as any agreement we've signed ourselves to - here, or in the future."
From his right breast pocket, Corin pulls out a bottle opener - carved by a hand laser from a chunk of superalloy shrapnel. There was no waste aboard Pacifica base.
"A toast, to allies, to common purpose, and to our continuing willingness to co-operate. As in Rheinland, and so beyond."
"...Will you join me, mis compañeros?"
THE SYNDIC LEAGUES
(A co-operative of Rheinland's outlawed trade unions, determined to take the underworld for themselves.)
![[Image: RQKAWjY.gif]](https://i.imgur.com/RQKAWjY.gif)
![[Image: XTF1d6x.png]](https://i.imgur.com/XTF1d6x.png)