A pair of clerks were sweeping through the records when they found something. “Erasmus, take a look. More prototype guns. This warehouse has everything.”
Erasmus came over and did indeed take a look. “I see. Give command a call, see if any of our capital fleet is being serviced. If those guns are what the records say they are, we need everything that can blast cruisers we can get.”
In orbit, a Federal Dread named Admiral Graf Spee was rolling up. With how hard the Federalists were being slapped, being on the defensive, their capital assets were more often than not close to home. Not this one. This one had been in the Omicronkorps and subsequently declared for the Federalists, and had only now managed to return home.
The clerks on the planet took this as a sign, and a quiet deal was struck. The rare Omicron materials were shipped down on shuttles, and the prototype guns were shipped up, along with specialists to install them.
Work was swift and the guns were up and running before the day was out.
“And put the experimental guns in the northeast bunker complex, we’re turning that into a warehouse.”
The guns in actuality had been already stolen, so a few enterprising techs desperately retrofitted a few regular Primaries into “Terminator”-model main guns. Construction of them would take time, but the friendship with Kusari enjoyed by Rheinland meant easy access to more advanced subsystems, delivered by a Samura middleman to Mannheim.
