Convergence is seldom coincidental

[UN]- The Unioners]

>> Convergence is seldom coincidental<<

-[Somewhere in the Zurich System

Exiting the Glarus Cloud was usually unremarkable an event on the ship, the reason for hushed whispers and neck-craning on the bridge stemmed from the prospect of catching the first glimpse of the destination: The Valais Cloud ahead, concealer of Davos Base.

It had been a prolonged trip yet again, managing near extrasolar distance almost the entirety of the flight since the Teutonia had left the Bering System. Keeping as much distance as was feasible from known patrol routes of the Polizei and the Military. The effort was justified and owed to the full hold of supplies and chemicals for this frontier Base of the Union.
Soon after the delivery, he would order the new and simultaneously well anticipated new course: home, to Pacifica.

Hollow word, „home“. Our home is- no, should be more than an isolated place in the Nowhere of the stars. Since when have we become content with hiding away?

Johan Isegrim sullenly stared into one of the command-suite monitors as if the digital representation of the Zurich system could provide a meaningful answer. The crew knew by now that it was the sensible choice not to interrupt their captain when he was in this mood.

Stagnancy is slow cancer, I was the first to accept the situation. Am I to blame? … Maybe, maybe not. Should I assemble the Direktorat and eventually call for a strike against the Freiburg Station? Maybe, but what good would it avail us in the long term? Interfering with the production capacities of Pacifica would disrupt a lot of the schedules. Can’t risk that, should not…

Clearing the Cloud’s outskirts Zurich’s sun appeared to the stern side, illuminating the elderly ship. They were now out in the open void again. Isegrim’s rumination got disrupted by a call from Navigation, he did not pay any heed at first as the information shouted at him was too sudden, too unlikely to be true:

“Contact!”

He didn’t react for a few seconds, having already dismissed it as a mishearing. But then – silence. His head snapped up; all eyes were on him – there was some other ship in scanner distance! Impossible!

We are too far out for anybody to stumble over us, it cannot be true! This course should be secure. We plotted it years ago – and nobody else… Damnit!

Half-buried instincts took over in Johan Isegrim’s mind.

“Navigation – acute angle to port! Full acceleration!
Tactical – I want a Feuerleitlösung and I want it now!
Gunnery – full barrage as soon as we enter range!”

Activity broke out on the bridge, and engagement alerts blared. Moments later a deep resounding groan went through the old leviathan as it was thrown forward and into a sharp turn. The addressed stations signaled their ready status. Isegrim glared into his tactical monitor, grasping a grim thought:

Whoever you are out there, your ambush will not do you any good! This ancient bitch of a star vessel has some fight left for you!

Of course, it was an ambush attempt, had to be! There was no other explanation. There could not be. Otherwise, it would be what?! Coincidence?! This could … not … be a chance encounter. No, but what if-

“Gunnery. Order retracted. Stand by. Tactical – full scan report on my main console, hopp-hopp. We might not see bloodshed today…”

---

A ship black and visibly damaged slowly drifted towards the Teutonia. The vessel appeared lifeless on the outside however a communication signal was sent to the Teutonia.

“Contact!”

Echoed through the ships’ intercom.

“Strange, I thought these routes were untravelled.”

Standing on the bridge of the vessel was a figure tall and visibly tired, judging by his posture. The man, very much like the ship, possessed a messy look. His black leather jacket was torn and scratched, however a red eagle symbol on his right shoulder remained unharmed.

“What do the scanners read?” Said the direktor.

“Herr Direktor, the scanners are offline. Our emergency power system can’t support such an output. Anyone could be aboard that vessel.”

Everyone looked towards the direktor as he went over the possibilities, knowing very well that this might be his very last fight.

“Direktor, the vessel appears to be armed! The Black Arrow can’t defend against such firepower. Our weapon systems are offline, the emergency power supply is almost empty and so are our engines, we are just target practice for these people.”

“There is nothing else to do but to try and talk to them.” The Direktor said, trying to sound calm, however, the crew was well aware of the gravity of the situation they were in.

“Herr Müller, try to establish a direct communication signal. “

“Yes, direktor.” After a few seconds of silence, the man in charge of the communication system shouted.

“The communication is live and so is your microphone Herr Direktor. Good luck.”

Calmly with a beat-up voice the direktor spoke into the microphone slowly, bowing towards it as if he was to kiss it.

“Greetings. This is a vessel of the Unioner's first fleet, codename ‘Black Arrow’, I am Direktor James Hollywood captain and commander of this vessel.”

As James pushed a button in front of him the communication signal was sent and the entirety of the crew sat in silence, hoping that the approaching ship would listen before open firing.

---

The list of information from the scan report was unambiguous – Hel class, damaged and limping through space. No intercept course, and no powered weapon systems.

A wayward patrol? Here? Unlikely.

Isegrim shared the same superstition harbored by many star farers, ascribing human qualities to their ship and believing it to have sort of a mind of its own. Rationally he knew it was humbug. Though right now, after his unexpected retraction of the order to fire, it quite felt like as if the Teutonia was not content. The charged-but-withheld weaponry sent vibrations through the ship, the growl of an old beast, frustrated about being reigned in.

A crewmen’s call from the Communication sub station cut through the angry hum reverberating through the vessel:

“They hail us. Comm-signature fits to one of ours, captain. It’s the … Black Arrow?”

Johan Isegrim reeled. Unbidden, fragments of memories long deemed buried began racing through his mind.

“Receive it, Ensign Herzog. On speaker, I want to hear what they have to say.”

---

After the voice comm had ended, no one dared speak a word or make a sound. All eyes were transfixed on Isegrim, who stood bent over a monitor, motionless.

The void be damned, it can’t be him! How has he survived? Where the fucking fuck in the Emperor’s ass had he been?! I must- … No! Damn man, steady yourself! … Okay, we are here, he is here too?! This is more than a coincidence, must be. But is he really- …? Think man, you need a shibboleth and a good one. He might have been tortured -or a fake- what is insignificant enough to not be of interest to anyone but us? Just what could that be? – Wait a second, yes!

Isegrim jolted back into motion. Fists clenched; jaw tensed he almost barked the crewmen from Communication out of their seats:

“Open pict-voice channels! Broadcast on all Unioner frequencies! I want them to positively get our message! – Cruiser ‘Black Arrow’, this is Direktoratsmitglied Johan Isegrim commanding the Unioner vessel ‘Teutonia’. To whoever styles himself as Direktor Hollywood over there: A face can be altered by surgery, a voice by implants. I would like to believe that it is you who spoke, James. That’s why I will give you one chance to prove it, fail and I will have you all turned into ash dust! Now – on the far side of your office room, right-hand side. The old heraldry you are so fond of. The one with the bird. How do I call that bird you admire so much?”

Isegrim cut the connection via his command monitor and whistled over to the Gunnery station who had remained on standby. As the crewmen looked over to him, he lifted his left hand with three fingers outstretched. After a few seconds, he retracted one of the fingers. The men knew the drill and a superstitious mind would have sworn that the deep metal growl from within the ship had gotten louder. Isegrim retracted another finger…

The crew of the Black Arrow sat in silence listening to what the other captain had to say. As soon as he introduced himself the crew and the direktor rejoiced, realizing that they might be doomed just yet and that all hope was not lost.

“Herr Müller prepared the comms for a reply!”

The communications expert pressed a few buttons on the dashboard as he lifted his right hand in the air, showing a thumbs up to all on the bridge. Signaling to the direktor that everything is ready.
The Direktor remained standing, leaning on his desk with both his arms, bending towards the microphone with a slightly smug expression on his face.

“Herr Johan of Teutonia, I'm honored that you think that one would go to such an extent to mimic the looks of myself. However, I think we both know that even the best plastic surgeons in Rheinland couldn't replicate my face's beauty and charm.”

As he finished the last word he giggled slightly at his cockyness, overwhelmed with the joy that this day might not be his last.

“As for the bird or the ‘deranged pigeon’, as you would call it, it is much more than that. It is a symbol of unity amongst the Unioners. Which seems to be a problem nowadays.”

“Anyways, enough of that talk for now, I will send you a damage report. Our ship is badly damaged and pretty much out of everything that it needs to function… The crew and I are also in bad condition and could need some food and rest.”

A few moments of silence followed as he bit down on his dry lip. “ I would also kill for a glass of whiskey and a cigar… It has been years since I had my last glass.”

The Direktor raised his hand against Müller and a loud beep echoed through the bridge, signaling the end of the communication signal.
James sent a damage report to the Teutonia and soon after the crew started talking with each other. The atmosphere aboard the Black Arrow was by far the best in weeks.
The Direktor sat down at his desk patiently awaiting the response.

One look into Isegrim’s face was enough for the bridge crew to understand.
It really was the Direktor! Tension dissolved faster than an ice comet near the sun. Even though Johan Isegrim was still holding up his hand with one finger extended, they knew. Giving orders was not necessary. The ship was brought back into regular cruise, and steered to rendezvous with the ‘Black Arrow’. Through the metal corridors of the old carrier, a chant rose up from hundreds of voices:

“The Direktor is back! The Direktor is back! Hooray! Hooray!”

Isegrim was already mentally stepping back into being a coordinator once again. Leading would again be done by someone else. It was a relief of responsibility and he now wondered about how heavy it had actually weighed on him. Even though his mind was in as much turmoil as the crew of the ‘Teutonia’, he was already trying to focus on which preparations needed to be made to turn Pacifica back into a war forge. A thought that sat surprisingly badly with him.

We were not failing without you, James. We just did things … differently. Was that a betrayal of the cause? Who knows. Does it matter now? Right now?! No, it probably does not matter at all. Or does it?

He pushed the thoughts away, scolding himself for even thinking about such trivial things, now that the Direktor had resurfaced in such a manner. Isegrim willed a joyful tune into his voice:

“You heard the orders from Direktor Hollywood, lads! I want Doktor Fingerle on the first shuttle over. And supplies. And engineers. I will be damned if we lose that ship to the void. Contact Davos Base, a grand celebration is going to happen! And somebody better go and find some good Whiskey! Hopp-hopp!”

The black arrows’ halls echoed with joy. They were saved. The direktor laid down on his command table. He covered his face with his palms, shaking and laughing. This will not be his final day.

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