Unioners -- Gaians

[Deity]

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Pacifica Base – Administrative Wing

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Friedrich did not move at once when Flora turned away. The door slid shut with a muted hiss, sealing the office in its familiar quiet. For a moment, only the station’s low pulse filled the space — steady, patient, unyielding.

He inclined his head slightly in return to her nod, the gesture precise, restrained.


“Of course, Frau.”


His voice carried just enough warmth to keep the words from sounding procedural. He watched her reach the threshold, her silhouette briefly framed by the corridor’s light.


“I appreciate your candor. It’s rarer than people think — especially after a war.”


Only once she was gone did he exhale, slow and controlled. He turned from the desk and crossed to the viewport, hands folding behind his back as the hangar came into view below.

A single Panther slid free of Pacifica’s embrace, engines flaring softly as it cut into the Tanner. Dust and stone swallowed its silhouette within seconds.


“Soon, then,”

he murmured, more to the stars than to the empty room.

There were no illusions of easy reconciliations. The past would not be rewritten with handshakes or polite words. But ships still flew, deals were still made, and the Union endured by doing what it always had — building something solid where others left ruins.

Friedrich returned to his desk, reopened the report, and finally began to read. Preparations would need to start immediately.

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THE SYNDIC LEAGUES
(A co-operative of Rheinland's outlawed trade unions, determined to take the underworld for themselves.)

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