Kronos looked out across the vast platform before him. People of all different kinds of backgrounds casually strolled all over the station, but this seemed to be the center of activity. Shuttle names, luggage numbers and the occasional joke hooted over the loudspeaker system. The low rumble of footsteps, voices and rolling suitcases seemed to blend into the same melody of the waves crashing onto the beach.
For a moment, Kronos took it all in, the safe feeling of sleep at night, friendly faces being dispensed daily and knowing that his identity was safely hidden behind the doors of the Octavarium Intelligence Service. He closed his eyes and took a breath full of the second wind he'd been granted.
And when he opened his eyes, the rush was over and the hourly clock for Planetary shuttles began it's countdown again.
"Hi! My name is Julian Sheather, mechanic of the Vagrant Raiders!" Kronos looked down at the script he'd been handed. Julian Sheather, it clearly labelled, yet his acting skill's clearly showed a facade. He took a deep sigh while pressing his fingers into his forehead in stress.
Who is this Julian? And why was he chosen to be my cover story? Kronos thought, taking a moment to sit down on his bed, staring at the floor, thinking that perhaps, if he was lucky, it would open up and swallow him. To analyse to a greater extent, why the name Kronos? Surely, a Latin name such as Laz wouldn't be detected as a real name?
He sighed with annoyance and fell backwards onto his bed, his arms dangling over the edge, swiping the floor.
"Why do I keep trying?" he mumbled aloud, hoping that an answer would fall from the Heavens.
Zwickau was a cramped place, filled with deposits of food, water and oxygen. Men and women calmly strolled, usually with clipboards and pens. Kronos arrived in the Hangar and made his way to the bar for a drink. The long ride out was tiring, especially since he had to guide someone who had never been to Rheinland before.
The Metropolis slowly drifted into a mooring point, with the escorts dashing around the ship, most likely make an attempt to anger Kane. All was well.
But when a loud siren went off, repeating the words: "Alarmstufe Rot!" repeatedly while red light flooded the room, the peace seemed a tad wrecked.
Admits the new chaos, Kronos grabbed someone and spoke his most fractured, panicked German he's ever spoken.
"What does Alarmstufe Rot! mean?!" he yelled at an engineer who seemed to be stressed.
"Red alert, all hands on deck, Military fleet inbound!" With that, the station shook slightly as a Cruiser came into view of the station.
![[Image: UcVFiya.png?2]](http://i.imgur.com/UcVFiya.png?2)