Unioners - Detterence starting of something new

[Deity]

✶✶✶ PACIFICA BASE – BERING SYSTEM ✶✶✶

---

*The hangar trembled slightly as the Deterrence vessels descended through the thin haze of Pacifica’s docking field.
The sharp hum of stabilizers and the metallic hiss of landing gear filled the air, echoing off old, oil-stained walls.
Unioner engineers paused their work, watching the newcomers arrive, while a few guards stood at ease wary, but not hostile.*

*Friedrich Kruger stood near the edge of the platform, hands tucked into his long coat. A faint curl of smoke drifted from the cigarette between his fingers as he watched the main ramp lower.
His posture was relaxed, but his gaze carried the weight of a man who had seen enough promises broken to know that words meant little without action.*

“Welcome to Pacifica,” he said, his voice low and rough from years of smoke and machinery.
“Name’s Friedrich Kruger, Unioner Diplomatic Corps. I speak for our people — those still breaking their backs in the Alster yards, and those keeping this station breathing out here in the dark.”

*He took a step forward as the Deterrence delegation disembarked, nodding in quiet greeting.*

“Glad you made it here without trouble. Bering doesn’t take kindly to strangers, especially after dusk.”

*For a moment, he looked over their faces, studying each expression, not with suspicion but with an engineer’s precision — as if gauging the strength of the metal before striking a weld.*

“We’ve got a room ready upstairs. Nothing fancy, but private enough for real talk — the kind that actually builds something.”
*The faintest hint of a smile crossed his face.*
“We can sit down right away, or take a moment to breathe first. Either way, I prefer a handshake and a proper look in the eyes before we talk business.”

*Kruger motioned toward the dimly lit corridor leading deeper into the base, the sound of distant machinery and muffled chatter echoing through the metal walls.*

“So tell me, friends... where do you see this partnership beginning? Out there, with the convoys and the escorts — or in here, with trust and understanding?”

*He paused, the cigarette ember glowing faintly in the half-light of the hangar.*

*Whatever came next, it would be built not from grand speeches — but from hard work, mutual respect, and the quiet resolve of those who’d been left behind by the Houses above.*

---

---

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

Information | Recruitment | Message Dump |
Feedback | Diplomatic channel

[ceu]

---

---

*A dull thud sounds across the ship, then the air escapes as the pressurized doors start unlocking. The Delegation takes a moment to get used to the light coming from the hangar and line up in a neat column before the doors open. Another metallic bang, a pause, then the doors open to make way for the Corsairs to step out of their vessel.*

*The first to step out is Dimitrious Konstantinou, the person who made contact to the Unioners on behalf of the Deterrence. Small ornaments and accessories are adorned on his figure. Tiny badges on his chest, a golden necklace with a small and shiny horned skull, on his hands - a simple ring, and a patch of the Deterrence insignia on his shoulder. He fixes his clothes, then move forward from the ship*

*The rest of the delegation follows behind him and as they walk towards Friedrich Kruger, Dimitrious glances for a moment above and around him, before locking eyes with Kruger*

"Mister Kruger, we have arrived as you wished. Im glad to see you in person" *He stands tall, a little stiff. He moves in for a handshake*

*One of the delegation members gives Dimitrious a container* "This is for you, Mister Kruger" *Inside the transparent container is a bottle suspended at an angle, the label reads "Executor’s Mark – Corsair Edition".

I have brought some of my people to the talks. They will be my recording secretaries during our talk and I would like to introduce them to you properly" - Dimitrious motions his hand to give opportunity for the people from the delegation to properly introduce themselves,

...

"I have talked with the Conclave about this meeting. Once we’re seated, I’ll explain how they envision this partnership taking shape."

...

*Dimitrious hears Kruger's question about the partnership*

"The idea of the partnership began with that mixed convoy. Here we can make it real and long-lasting"

*When all is said and done, the discussion can proceed after everyone makes their way towards the meeting room*

---

---

[Deity]

✶✶✶ PACIFICA BASE – CONFERENCE CHAMBER ✶✶✶

---

The metallic echo of footsteps carried through the narrow corridor until the group reached the reinforced door of Pacifica’s main conference chamber. The heavy locks disengaged with a deep mechanical hiss, revealing a room of sturdy design old, but well kept. The lights were low, the air faintly warm from the reactor levels below. A circular table occupied the center, its surface scarred by years of use, surrounded by mismatched chairs. It wasn’t luxury it was Unioner practical.

Friedrich Krüger led the Deterrence delegation inside, pausing only long enough to make sure each of their guests was comfortable before he took his seat across from them. His tone was measured, steady, carrying the kind of calm that comes from both confidence and long experience.

“Pacifica may not have the shine of Crete or Malta,” *he began with a faint smirk,* “but she’s built on honest work steel, sweat, and the will to survive. You’ll find no pretense here.”

He set the gift bottle they’d brought on the table with care, the faint glint of its label catching the dim light.

“Your Executor’s Mark will be opened once we seal something worth toasting to.”

The room’s door opened again, the sound of approaching boots cutting through the low hum of machinery. Friedrich looked toward the entryway and gave a respectful nod.

“And here comes a man who needs little introduction among our ranks — Corin Frei, leader of the Unioners, the voice of our workers, and the one who keeps this movement alive.”

He turned back toward Dimitrious and the rest of the Deterrence delegation, his tone becoming slightly more formal.

“Herr Frei will join us for this discussion. He speaks for the will of the Union — I represent our diplomatic wing. Together, we hope to build something lasting between our peoples.”

Friedrich glanced briefly toward Corin, offering him the floor with a subtle gesture, but when the Unioner leader remained silent for the moment observing the guests, reading the room, Krüger leaned forward slightly, continuing.

“Your convoy in Gallia proved what cooperation between the Deterrence and the Unioners can look like. Despite the losses, both sides stood their ground. That earns respect here.”

He clasped his hands together, elbows resting lightly on the table.

“Now, before we drown ourselves in formalities, let’s talk about what comes next. Smaller convoys, tighter formations, and cleaner routes. Our people in Hamburg and Bering are already scouting alternate paths that could link with your trade network. We’ll share what we find, keep it between us.”

His gaze shifted between the Corsair delegates.

“In return, we’d like to hear what your Conclave envisions for this partnership, how deep you see this alliance running, and how we can make sure neither of us draws too much light from the Houses.”

He paused, leaning back in his chair slightly, the quiet rumble of Pacifica’s systems echoing softly around them.

“We all know the cost of being seen. So let’s build this the right way slow, quiet, and solid.”

With that, Krüger nodded once toward Dimitrious, giving the Corsair delegation the floor.

---

---

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

Information | Recruitment | Message Dump |
Feedback | Diplomatic channel

[Costa_D_Sol]

---

---

*It’s been a long time since Costa had set foot anywhere outside the Omicrons, even longer since he’d come face-to-face with so-called allies.
When he stepped out of the ship, the heavy clang of his boots echoed across the hangar deck. The first breath he took was filled with the taste of metallic dust and burned fuel, a smell that, to him, carried the scent of home. The air here was recycled, thick with oil and sweat; it was real.

Falling in behind Dimitrious, Costa let his gaze wander. The workers in the bay moved with mechanical rhythm, each knowing his place, each keeping the station alive by any means necessary. It reminded him of the Corsairs back home, patching together their ships with scavenged metal, fighting the void itself just to feed their families.

Then his eyes found Kruger, tall, weathered, his expression carved by time and battle. The man carried himself like someone who’d survived more than one war, and that alone earned Costa’s respect.

He took a slow drag from his cigarette before flicking the ashes to the floor.

"Hola, Señor Kruger," *Costa said, stepping forward and offering his hand, his single sharp eye locking on Kruger’s.*

"My name is Costa D Sol. I’m lookin’ forward to knowin’ you and your people, maybe even seein’ the area around Pacifica, if time allows. I’m not much for long talks, truth be told. The place… it tells me more than words ever could."
*The handshake was firm, an exchange of unspoken recognition between men who’d both seen too much.

As Dimitrious continued to speak, Costa fell back into his place at the rear of the delegation. He stayed quiet, observing. His mind traced the hum of generators through the deck plates, the faint hiss of decompression valves, the distant clang of machinery, all signs of a station that lived and breathed through struggle.

He could feel the weight of the moment.
Corsairs and Unioners, two worlds long separated by abstinence and distance, now standing in the same light.

Costa’s gaze drifted toward the far bulkheads where banners of the Unioners hung, their insignia flanked by rust and rivets. He couldn’t help but smirk slightly beneath his breath. Maybe, he thought, this time the talks might actually lead to something that lasts.

When the delegation began to move toward the meeting chamber, Costa followed, his steps silent, his eyes scanning every shadow. Whatever the Conclave had planned, he knew one thing for certain: in places like this, trust was earned, never given.*

---

---

[Carmen Quintana]

Behind her two male counterparts, stepped out a female Corsair. Her poise and demeanor, collected, calm, supremely self confident. Not a hint of uncertainty could be seen in posture or gaze. It was as if the woman belonged here among the Unioners. Her pale silvery eyes swept over the hangar. Noting the guards. The machinery. Its sounds. Her nostrils subtle twitched, as she took in the odors. Quickly reminded of the multitude of Corsair hangers she'd been in. Not much different than this. Good. She liked that. These people were not all talk. They put in the hard work too. There was already a shared bond in that.

As she stepped out to wait her turn to greet, Kruger would see her uniform did not entirely match her two companions; except its shared Deterrence black and red. It had an eclectic look that had yet managed to masterfully pull itself together. It had a professional, yet pragmatic look. Giving her the appearance of someone who knew how to dress to survive her harsh homeworld. Most striking of the ensemble, was a bright saffron shawl. Wrapped around her shoulders. With much of it draped down behind her back on the left side. On her right hip, rested her sidearm. With a strap over the grip. Peaking out partially from underneath the shawl, was a sheath for an otherwise hidden knife.

Aside from her uniform style, what next would stick out more was her shimmering silver hair. Catching any light and reflecting it back as if mirror-like. It was kept loose and medium-long. Her skin quite fair and her eyes a pale silver. She had somewhat of a haunting mystique. The way her eyes regarded everything or anyone around her. Piercing. The confidence of a warrior, a survivor. A woman not to be trifled with.

When her turn came to greet, she stepped up to Kruger. "Well met, Senor Kruger. I am Carmen Elena Quintana of Clan Quintana." She held out her right hand and instead of taking his hand, hers came up to just below the underside of his elbow. Grasping his forearm firmly. His own hand at the underside of her forearm. Where he could equally grasp her arm in turn. Then she leaned in and gave a brief kiss to his left cheek and right cheek. Then stepped away. "It is a pleasure to come to the home of such fine amigo's. The Unioners impressed me during the convoy."

---

Once in the meeting room, Carmen stepped in and too a side. Turning to greet Corin. Giving him a subtle tilt of her head. Refraining from the same greeting, as Corin had yet to offer his own. She then returned her focus to Kruger as he remarked about respect. "Indeed. You Unioners have earned my respect as well, hombre. Your people flew well and bravely. Avenging your losses with unyielding fury." Her gaze held recognition born of a burgeoning respect.

Taking the opportunity with the gap of speakers, Carmen spoke up after Kruger wished to begin discussing how this alliance would go. "I for one, am willing to volunteer in assisting you Unioners in missions and logistics support. Assuming my superiors have no objections, I am willing to act as a bridge between our two people."

---

---

"My kin! We are Corsair! We are the 'Horned Ones'! By Crete we have been made strong! There is no foe we cannot defeat! No enemy shall be spared our horns! No friend or ally shall find us wanting! For we are Corsair! By the might of the Imperio we spread out our hands! All we see will be ours one day! I have had a dream. A dream of a green Crete. A paradise! And in that dream, our enemies are not there! Crushed and mangled beneath our horns! Uplift your voices! Shout with me! Corsair! Corsair! Corsair!"

-Carmen Elena 'Silver' Quintana of Clan Quintana of the Corsair Imperio

[Deity]

✶✶✶ PACIFICA BASE – CONFERENCE CHAMBER ✶✶✶

---

The air inside the chamber seemed to still as the last of the Corsair delegation entered. The low hum of the reactor deep below was the only sound that filled the silence, a rhythmic pulse that had long become the heartbeat of Pacifica itself. Friedrich Krüger watched as Costa and Carmen made their introductions — each in their own way, both carrying the kind of confidence that only those who had faced hardship could wear with such ease.

Costa’s grip was strong, the greeting short and direct — a man who had seen more through the sights of a gun than in the pages of a treaty. Friedrich returned the handshake with the same quiet weight, his voice low, rough around the edges but genuine.

“Señor Costa,” he said, his tone carrying that mix of familiarity and earned respect.You’ll find no polished halls here — just honest work and the people who keep it running. Pacifica speaks for itself, and I’m sure she’ll tell you plenty before you leave.

When Carmen stepped forward, Friedrich noted the sharp contrast she brought to the room — her poise, her silver eyes, the shawl that broke through the harsh metallic palette of the Unioner station. Her greeting, formal yet personal, drew a faint but honest smile from him. The kind of smile that was rare, but not forced.

Carmen Elena Quintana, he repeated, locking his gaze with hers as they exchanged the forearm grip. The pleasure’s mine. You honor us with your words. We remember those who fought alongside us — and those who bled for the same cause.

Her mention of the convoy stirred a flicker of pride in his expression, but it was tempered by something quieter — the memory of those who hadn’t made it back.

They fought with everything they had. They always do. I’ll make sure their families hear what you said.

He motioned toward the table, inviting both her and Costa to take their seats. As they did, Friedrich leaned forward, resting his forearms on the cold steel surface. The old table creaked slightly under the weight of his movement.

You’ve both seen what our people are — stubborn, perhaps, but driven. We don’t stop until the work’s done. That’s why this meeting matters.

He glanced at Carmen after her offer, his expression softening slightly, though the weight of thought still lingered in his eyes.

A bridge, you say? That would be… useful. Communication between our sides needs a steady hand, someone who knows both the language of war and of patience. If your commanders agree, I’d welcome that. There’s trust to be built, and you seem to understand how fragile that can be.

He paused, letting the words settle before continuing, his voice a touch quieter now — less the tone of an ambassador, more of a man talking to equals across the table.

We’ve all seen what happens when pride gets in the way of survival. This — what we’re building here — it’s not just trade or tactics. It’s about keeping our people alive long enough to see a future worth fighting for.

His gaze moved between Costa, Carmen, and Dimitrious in turn, his eyes steady and deliberate.

You’ve come a long way from the Omicrons to sit here. That alone tells me something. You didn’t do it for ceremony — you did it because you believe this might actually lead somewhere. So do I.

He leaned back in his chair, letting out a slow exhale, a tired but sincere smile crossing his face.

We’re not the sort to make promises lightly. But if this alliance holds, if we build it the right way — with sweat, trust, and silence — then maybe, just maybe, our children won’t have to live the same lives we did.

For a moment, silence filled the room again — not the awkward kind, but the kind that carried weight. The kind that meant something real was being said. Then, with a faint nod, Friedrich gestured toward the Corsair delegation.

So… tell me. What does the Conclave want this partnership to become? What do you see when you look beyond this room?

His words hung in the air — not as a challenge, but as an open door.

---

---

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

Information | Recruitment | Message Dump |
Feedback | Diplomatic channel

[Enkidu]

[delete]

---

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

Information | Recruitment | Message Dump |
Feedback | Diplomatic channel

(Links pending redevelopment).

[Enkidu]

✶✶✶ PACIFICA BASE – CONFERENCE CHAMBER ✶✶✶

---

As Costa and Carmen stepped into the chamber, around them, beat the ambient bustle of Pacifica. For the Rock was alive, in its teeming, clattering machinations. As all great beasts that consume and process and reproduce must, the Rock came with a pulse. For Pacifica was the lung of the Tanner Belt. All asphyxiated scree of civilization that littered the no-man's space of the independent worlds; scrap, detritus, stolen cargo, and pilfered ships - came into Pacifica, as products, contraband, and unregistered ships flood out.

This was a meeting place, yes, but it was not a place for privacy.


High-sided workboots clatter on the bulkhead, adding to the broiling ambient noise - machines at work, pumps straining. The faint after-scent of molten synthetics that even the filters couldn't parse out. Corin's shoes - with the lugged soles and padded heels of a warehouse worker - announce him before Fredrich can. This is not the footwear of a soldier, but of a man who makes his living dragging uncooperative masses from place to place. His march announced him; the arrival of an unsubtle pirate kingmaker - even as Corin himself would deny that title.


Corin Frei. The reluctant leader of the Unioners, as far as anyone could learn from the Colony News Service. On that point, at least, lay consensus. From there, the stories - there were oh so many - diverge. They sprawl as loose cables, they tie themselves in knots. There is no truth or fiction to the legend of Corin Frei, only tangles and catches, and unanswered questions.

The greatest of which was this: it was a matter of debate if Corin had led the Unioners to glory - or astray.

“Pacifica may not have the shine of Crete or Malta, but she’s built on honest work steel, sweat, and the will to survive. You’ll find no pretense here."

Corin grinned, if only to himself. To the old pirate, pretense was his particle shield, it was his blood - it was all he'd been running on since he stepped out of obscurity - near a decade ago now - and into the MND's most wanted list. In his experience; and he was nothing if not experienced, pretense was the only protection you could count on in the underworld. Notwithstanding, it was no less true on the fairer side of the law. Pretense had won every gain the Union had made since the Vierlande massacre. It was all, in the end, improvisation. Plans tended to distort on the fly at the fringes of the Sector.

He meets the eyes of his guests once - long enough for welcome, long enough for solidarity - before dropping his gaze. His face, if not his attention, is fixed towards the center of the conference table - a slab of meteoric iron, polished to a finish. The upper surface is ornamented, covered with polished peridot crystal, cut and shaved into improvised tiles. It's an astrographer's mosaic - a map of whorling jump points. There lies nostalgia, as artful as it is devoid of function. For, if anyone was to set a course by these waypoints, they would become irrevocably lost to space. For the mosaic maps a moment of a time long past - when the Union dealt in the conflict diamonds of the Omegas. At a time before the singular feud metastazing in the Hammen Hole had not yet surpassed the TOV limit, had not yet consumed all - the Union still maintained a balance between the Hessians and the Corsairs.

With a fraction of a nod, Corin returns the impetus to Frederich. The younger man had covered the essentials. No, Corin makes a point of speaking last. You want to be behind your target - to see their flanks open up - before you engage. A rule to live by, in piracy, and in peacetime.

Good man, Friedrich. I see you've enriched their attention. The Corsairs and the Unioners are on collision course now - heading toward a melding, a fusion. Unions of powers alike ours tend toward the explosive.

Before Costa and Carmen could reply, he breaks in, speaking up for the first time. Though his entrypoint is unconventional, Corin commits; charging into the space Friedrich left hanging in the air.

"Carmen Elena Quintana, del Clan Quintana, y Dimitrious Konstantinou, del cónclave Deterrence; bienvenidos a Pacifica. Bienvenidos a La Roca."

[Carmen Elena Quintana, from the Quintana Clan, and Dimitrious Konstantinou, of the Deterrence conclave; welcome to Pacifica. Welcome to The Rock.]

Corin gestures to one of the guards, a glimmer of a twitch playing at his cheek. He speaks with confidence, with authority, but without a hint of superiority - assumed, or real.

“Bitte bring uns fünf Gläser, Willi, danke.” [Please fetch us five glasses, Willi. Thank you.]

His voice falls level as he slips from Cretan; the tongue of the Union's guests, to Rheinish; his own speech, into Bretonian English. This was diplomatic theatre; English is a middle-ground that favored neither side.

“...Compañera Quintana y compañero Del Sol, before you answer Frederich... let me equip you with information. You've crossed the stars themselves on the trust of strangers - aye, we are proven comrades in battle and in commerce. But I would have you know our hidden truths, before you decide how we humble Unioners fit into Crete's vision.”

Corin's hands, spread wide, rest against the lip of the table. He leans in, beckoning the attention of the indomitable corsairs.

“We have fought the hated Hesse together. We have braved the wilds of the Jump network together, carrying a fortune in Malvada Stone. Yet our connections run deeper. The last fifteen years of direct cooperation between the Unioners and Crete are not our entire story. No - our ancestral legacies are intertwined. ”

Corin affixes Del Sol and Quintana a light year-long gaze that didn't quite stop at their eyes. Understanding, camaraderie and earnestness. These were the passions of Corin Frei.

“The Schiller, the vessel of Franz Schulman - the vessel that began Crete's discovery of the Sirian betrayal, was built by men of the Union. We are more than of one kind: pirates, smugglers, and castaways - we Corsairs and Unionists alike share a legacy of opposing the same wrongs - merely from different positions."

"So when I say what I am about to say, know I do so from a place of reverence for Crete, and a respect for your people. Your victory is our victory - a victory against the Hessian counterrevolutionaries - and a victory against those that would leave others to starve while they grow fat. I tell you this as one pirate to another."


Corin lets his statement sit. It's an audacious start, one that might be prove brazen if Corin had misjudged his audience.


“From where I stand, the Corsair empire is strong, but your arms don't quite meet in the middle. You are embattled on multiple fronts; in the Sigmas, in the Omegas, in the Omicron systems. To further your fight, you need regional blocs to back Crete's vision, to distribute artifacts, and to provide plunder, resources, and technology. You will need friends - local allies - and local tributaries. It's an art your enemies are also attempting to perfect. Look at the Maltese, or the Coalition; in every house they have an ally. We want to help you match, or even outflank, your enemies, by expanding Crete's reach to untapped markets. In short, new markets for artifacts, and new sources of house technology."

The elder Unioner places a hand upon the table, redirecting the focus of the room to the jumphole mosaic, to the spiraling network of deals-in-the-shade implied by every line and node. Yes, it's out of date, but it was useful enough as a presentation piece.

"To explain the Union's role here, we must first acknowledge the Corsair Empire's current allies. To the west, you have a strong direct ties in Bretonia, through the Trafalgar Junkers, and unshakable regional allies in the Gaian movement. To the north? There your influence is unquestionable. In Kusari, the Corsair Empire enjoys the vital aid of the Farmers Alliance, who provide invaluable agricultural provisions and regional political influence. You also have the ever resourceful Hogosha, who manage the northern Artifact artery."

"But the Empire's current map of supporters are gathered on two islands of power, isolated by an ocean of stars. Liberty is cut off from Crete by distance, and by the Rogues and Xenos ever-increasing loyalty to Malta. Rheinland is cut off by the Omega war. In Gallia, since the end of the Incursion, the Corsair Empire has lost its supporters in the halls of the state."

The flat of Corin's mottled hand rests upon the center of the mosaic; upon the distribution webs of the Unioners.

"The Unioners offer access to the black markets of these three missing pieces: Rheinland, Gallia, and Liberty. How? Well, our infrastructure is already in-place. Pacifica is our gateway to Liberty's eastern systems, where Outcast influence is the thinnest. In Gallia, we founded and control the first and only point where the Gallic and Sirian underworlds meet, through our enclave in Zurich. There, we offer the Corsairs our connections with the Unione Course, and their subordinates in the Gallic Brigands. Of course, we also offer Rheinland. At home, we dominate the smuggling trade. There, we are the last effective bastion of resistance against Hessian encroachment. It is the Unioner presence that prevents the Hessians from crawling out of the Omegas, and into the alleyways of Berlin and Hamburg.”

It was a tempting offer - and, crucially, one no other prospective underworld group could match. Only the Unioners had a smuggling net strung between the three houses where the Corsairs lacked local allies.

“Beyond our allegiances, beyond our contraband network, we offer our capacity for production- for invention, and for replication. We are both faced by the necessity of matching the Coalition and Hessian armadas, across vast distances. While the Coalition and the Hessians enjoy a regular supply of off-planetary resources from nearby allies, Crete has always had to resort to force for access to commodities and hardware salvaged from the houses."

"We offer an ability few underworld groups can. The Unioners maintain a developed industrial base. We have a developed capacity for production, for manufacture, and for counterfeiting, that will supplement the industries of Crete by supplying pirated, or domestically produced, hardware. I understand the Corsair Empire is in the midst of modernizing its fleet. At the same time, the Corsairs must develop and preserve your logistics. This is much to ask of Tripoli alone."

"If you look at only the Tanner Belt, it is strewn with the military innovations of Liberty and Rheinland's under and overworlds. From these rich pickings, we have learnt much. We have also demonstrated an ability to unpick those secrets - to produce them for ourselves. Our most extreme example is the Sirene, is a Chimera of a vessel, combining adapted Rheinlandic technology, upon an experimental Libertonian communications battleship. Our most modest is the Hel cruiser. We certainly have the means to produce subassembalies for the renewal of the Corsair warfleet. This is not without precedent; the Corsair Empire turned to the Hogosha and their Samuran suppliers to develop the Raba. The Empire turned to the Order to appropriate the basic template for that which became the Murmillo."

"These are the services we could offer, should Crete see fit to embrace them."

---

---

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

Information | Recruitment | Message Dump |
Feedback | Diplomatic channel

(Links pending redevelopment).

[ceu]

---

---

*As Dimitrious shakes hands with Kruger, his eye contact breaks for a moment, glancing in the distance over Kruger's shoulder. His eyes catch Corin Frei approaching, no doubt that it's him. As the leader of the Unioners, he must be aware of what is happening, of the negotiations and the conference meeting. To be present here at this time means that he will certainly join in the meeting to see what the sons and daughters of Crete have prepared to show. Dimitrious continues on, motioning his hand for introductions, just before Corin speaks up. He stops and lets Corin finish.*

*Corin introduces himself in Cretan. A small surprise but a welcome one*

Mister Frei. The honor is ours. *Dimitrious moves in for a handshake, his posture a bit firmer this time*
We’ve heard your name spoken with respect among those who still remember their hands built ships, not just flown them. Allow me to introduce to you my people. They will be our record for what happens during this meeting.

*He looks to the delegation as he is talking, returning the opportunity for them to give proper introductions before moving deeper into the station and to the conference room*

---

*The Delegation picks their seats on the table. Dimitrious sits without looking at the chair and leans back. He takes a moment to gaze onto the mosaic that is carved into the table, before everyone is set and ready for the talks. The room is quiet, the ambience is no longer the hum of machines and work process of all the engineers and shipwrights on the station. It is barely audible now, an illusion from the mind to fill in for the lack of background noise, before it adjusts to the pristine quiet that is this room. It is a well kept and well measured room and it highlights the nuances of the Unioner's engineering prowess. Corin Frei begins to speak and Dimitrious focuses on his words and his actions. He lays his arms flat on the table, intertwining fingers and gives a look of intrigue, of curiosity. He listens to Friedrich Kruger as well and hears the important questions, what the Unioners are truly eager to know*

---

*It is now turn for the Corsairs to speak*

The Conclave wishes to make a partnership between the Unioners and the Deterrence to acquire resources and expand artifact influence across Rheinland and its neighbouring systems. It will be divided in three stages, where we will begin small and gradually put more into this partnership as it matures, reaching a point where we can amass enough resources for more projects that will be done under this partnership.

*Dimitrious pauses for a second*

The first stage begins with the mixed convoys that were conceptualized when our fleets met not long ago. The Deterrence follows the will of the Elders. They are not easily impressed by the work done with outsiders, instead focusing on internal Cretan matters. We need their support to enable this partnership to grow. They will have little confidence in this project so to win their favor, we must show the value of this partnership immediately.


*Dimitrious glances at both Corin Frei and Friedrich Kruger; they nod for him to continue*

Money, thats the start. More markets need to be reached to prove the convoy's effectiveness. There is no doubt the transport capacity of the mixed convoy is better, so the bigger profits will certainly catch their eye.

We supply markets and have clients in most of the Houses, as Mister Frei said. The mixed convoy will do three planned convoys to three different houses in this order - Bretonia, Kusari and then finally Rheinland. We will sell on the markets that have the most clients and give you a share of profit, starting from one million credits and going up to three million credits for the final convoy. That will be a profit on top of what your transports will make on their own.

To avoid losses like Gallia, escorts will be mixed: an equal number of Corsair and Unioner ships. They will deter anyone from attacking our convoy and ensure there are no casualties at this stage of the partnership.

*Dimitrious looks for a reaction, not for any particular purpose but to conclude that this is how things can start*

Stage two we will show strength, by striking the menace that is the Red Hessians, their allies and the Rheinland government. Your fight against the Hessians, for example, is a great hindrance to their plans, but they are wise, as they often fight alongside the Coalition to multiply their strength. The Conclave proposes that for the second stage, we do something similar and integrate our warships into your fleets and assist in fighting our common enemies in Rheinland and the Omegas. The more we destroy, the more we will please the Elders. We can make up for what happened to the battlecruiser Penitence[1] like this and show that the partnership can bring fortune and has power.

*Dimitrious collects his thoughts for a moment, before continuing on*

The final stage will be the maturity of the partnership. By this point it will be large enough that from that, we can start newer, grander projects. The convoys and the fleets will continue on, but on top of them we will make use of your industry, shipwrights and connection to Rheinland and Liberty underworlds that we haven't tapped yet, while you Mister Frei and Mister Kruger, will have direct access to our goods. We will bring what our raiders hoard to your bases, the tools you will need to build your future. We will gain mutual protection from the enemy and more connections to profit off of. The possibilities will be bigger and better. That is how the Conclave sees the growth of our relations.

*Dimitrious meets their eyes*

This will be the plan. There is a lot to gain out of this. We will have to put in some effort. I've given a vague overview of it all, but I'm ready to share specific details if you have questions. If you agree, we will begin Stage One no later than 22.11.835. I want you to think it over carefully, Mister Frei and Mister Kruger and share your thoughts on this.

---

---

[Deity]

✶✶✶ PACIFICA BASE – CONFERENCE CHAMBER ✶✶✶

---

Kruger leaned back slightly as the last words of Dimitrious settled into the quiet of the meeting chamber.
The silence here wasn’t empty it felt measured, intentional, like the pause between two hammer strikes on an anvil.
His fingers brushed once across the carved surface of the Unioner-made table, tracing grooves left by craftsmen from long before his generation.

He exchanged a brief look with Corin a silent agreement only leaders with shared burdens could understand — then turned his attention back to the Corsair delegation.

All right… then let’s speak plainly.

He set a small metallic disk on the table a negotiation marker but he didn’t activate it. Not yet.
Instead, he rested his fingertips over it, grounding his next words.

Your plan is heard. Three stages. Growth through trust. Profit for your Elders, stability for our workers, strength against our shared enemies.
On paper, it aligns well.

He leaned forward, elbows on the table, not confrontational, but deliberate.

But before we move any further, I need something on this table as well.
Something that matters to us more than credits, more than convoys, more than even battlefield cooperation.

A beat passes.

Technology.

The word hung in the air like a weight.

If we want a partnership that lasts — not three trips across the Houses and a handshake — then we need to speak of the exchange that actually shapes power.

His hand tapped the table once, softly but with intention.

Your artifact knowledge.
Our industry.
Your hardened engineering from the Omicrons.
Our shipwrights, our factories, our mass-production lines.

He let them consider it before clarifying:

I’m not asking for your sacred relics or the secrets your Elders would kill to protect.
I’m talking about practical exchange hull composite techniques, reinforced plating, propulsion modifications, weapon cooling advances… things tested in the harshest systems in Sirius.

Then he added the Unioner offer in return:

And in exchange, Unioners can give what no one else can.
Large-scale industrial support.
Fabrication without limit.
Custom modifications built on proper facilities, not under siege conditions.
Distribution channels in Rheinland and Liberty you currently can’t reach.

His gaze moved from Dimitrious, to Costa, to Carmen steady, reading their reactions.

If we’re to fight together… then it’s only logical we build our tools together.

A small, rare smile crept into the corner of his expression more felt than seen.

So tell me.
Is the Conclave willing to discuss technological exchange?
Because for us… that’s the key to a real alliance.

He clasped his hands calmly in front of him.

If they are, then we can start planning projects that will reshape far more than trade routes.

---

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

Information | Recruitment | Message Dump |
Feedback | Diplomatic channel