//Posted here with permission o' one Malexa. I hear she's "up there" in the RM.
*The Irregefurht set down on the surface of New Berlin with something akin to the antithesis of grace. The Ragnar's frame, being foreign to the concept of pristine from the getgo, was now a mess of carbon scores, laser burns and splashes of whatever the hell happened when a pilot furiously mashed the repair button.
Her touchdown elicited a something between a creak and a moan, neither of which was a sound often heard from a spacecraft landing within the environ's of the Rheinland Military's primary parade deck on New Berlin. Nor was such a dodgy craft.
But she had a cargo to merit it.
Herman monitored the disembarking of his charges from the command chair of the Ragnar. The successful exchange for 115 prisoners of war for, of all things, simple repair modules to a blood crazed battleship commander was beyond belief. But, well, gift horse and mouths ja?
He had orders to keep on his ass and await further orders while the personell he offloaded were screened and debriefed. Gods help him if any of them turned out to be a mole, his flight status was patchy enough in Rheinland without hand delivering a spy on the reco.... ****.
His vessel went dark, the windows blacked with sudden polarization. We was under port lockdown. With a mutter he kicked his feet up on the dash and slouched in his chair.
Whatever happened, happened.
A monitor flickered to life as his vessel's blackbox was accessed and began to dump its contents to the Military database. Hopefully it would be a sufficient prize to warrant a slap of paint on his ship before he was sent back into the saltpits.
