The office was quiet, save for the low hum of the station’s power lines running behind the walls. Through the viewport, the docks glowed dimly under the pale light of distant stars. Cargo shuttles drifted in and out, small and steady — like blood through veins keeping the base alive.
Friedrich sat behind his desk, a half-finished report open on the console beside him. He hadn’t read a word in the last ten minutes. His attention was somewhere else — on the memory of their earlier talk outside the base, and the reason she’d come here in the first place.
When the door finally slid open, he didn’t flinch. The steps were light but certain, the kind that belonged to someone who knew what they wanted. He already knew who it was.
"Frau Flora," he said, his tone even but not cold. He motioned to the chair across the desk."Glad you made it. I trust the lads at the gate didn’t make a mess of your arrival. They mean well — just not always the friendliest bunch."
He leaned back slightly, a small smirk tugging at one corner of his mouth, gone as soon as it appeared.
"Let’s pick up where we left off," he added after a pause. "You mentioned the Whirlwind, and a Bulwark that’s seen better days. Sounds like something that could use a proper Unioner touch — and maybe a deal or two to go with it."
His fingers drummed lightly against the edge of the desk, a slow, steady rhythm. Eyes steady, voice calm — waiting, but not impatient.
"So... let’s hear it, Flora."
THE SYNDIC LEAGUES
(A co-operative of Rheinland's outlawed trade unions, determined to take the underworld for themselves.)
The woman's step gradually slowed down as she entered the office. Still in her flight gear, merely missing the helmet. She wore a fitting, black flight suit, once sleek and pristine, now worn down by years of extensive use and repair. Over the top she wore an old flight jacket, grey with dark green detailing, bearing patches of various Gaian cells formed and disbanded over the years. On her right thigh was a holster, partially covering faded Kishiro branding of the suit, a side arm still inside.
Her eyes scanned the space, taking note of the layout and briefly fixing on the viewport, before returning their focus to the man behind the desk. She stopped once she reached the chair, idly putting her hands on the backrest. - Mister Kruger. - she then said, offering the man a slight nod.
- Oh, don't worry. Your boys were quite agreeable. - she replied with amusement. She moved around the chair, hand on the backrest, then took a seat. She leaned back, legs crossed, while listening to the man speak. She nodded when he finished.
- As I've said before, mister Kruger... - she paused for a split second. - ...it's just the Bulwark. Heavy damage on the port side, mostly around the main reactor and port engine housing. The boys in red were obviously firing to disable. We got the engine running again, but anything more than that needs drydock time. And local expertise. - she explained, her hand reaching inside her open jacket, pulling out a small data device. She'd lean forward, putting it on his desk and sliding it towards Kruger. - Our technicians' assessment of the ship, if you'd like.
- But, I'm no engineer. - she continued, leaning back once more. - I'll leave the technicalities to you and your men. I'm here for the deals part, mister Kruger. As we established, we need the ship fully operational again, and we, of course, did not expect you to do it for free. What we did expect, however, was for it to be a simple exchange of favours. But it seems the Union has a grander idea. I'd like to hear more about that, if you'd be so kind to tell me.
Friedrich listened quietly while she spoke, his eyes fixed first on the data device, then back on her as she settled into the chair. The worn flight suit, the patched jacket, the holstered sidearm all of it painted the picture of someone who’d lived more in motion than at rest. Someone who didn’t waste breath on things that didn’t matter.
He picked up the device she slid toward him, turning it once between his fingers before setting it beside the console. The damage report could wait. Her words could not.
"A Bulwark crippled the way you describe… that’s not a patch job. That’s a rebuild," he said, voice low, matter-of-fact rather than discouraging. "But you came to the right place. We can help — and we will."
He leaned back, exhaling through his nose, not quite a sigh more something between calculation and acceptance. His fingers tapped lightly along the desk edge while he gathered the next thought.
"As for the Union having ‘grander ideas’…" He allowed himself a very small smile — the kind that wasn’t for show, but understanding. "…we’re not looking to take advantage of you. A favour for a favour is still how business is done out here. But if we’re going to commit full resources, drydock time, parts, manpower — we’ll need someone else in the room before we get into the deeper part of it."
He glanced toward the door, as if expecting it to open any moment.
"Miss Riehl is returning from a field run as we speak," he continued. "and she’s the one who pushed for this cooperation in the first place. Once she steps in, the three of us will go over the terms properly."
He shifted forward slightly, resting his forearms on the desk. The gentle hum of the station vibrated through the metal beneath his arms — steady, familiar.
"But to make it clear, Frau Flora — yes. We’ll help. The Bulwark will fly again. And whatever we agree on tonight will hold. Unioners keep their word."
Footsteps echoed faintly somewhere beyond the office doors — the timing almost perfect, the sound of someone just returning home.
"Seems she’s right on schedule," he added quietly, with a half-smile.
THE SYNDIC LEAGUES
(A co-operative of Rheinland's outlawed trade unions, determined to take the underworld for themselves.)
- I don't doubt your sincerity, mister Kruger. - she replied to his remarks. - It's just that the scope has shifted quite considerably. Any meaningful action this far from Bretonia would be no small effort for us. I'd like to know what we'd be getting into, is all.
She'd look to the side when she finished, turning the chair slightly to put the office door in her view.
A voice, blunt in manner. Overdriven, it cracks mid-syllable, scraping out, claws out, a demand for focus, imploring an about face.
Arbeiter Gunda Riehl stands in the intercompartmental hatchway, half in-shade, all a-gleam. She's got the expression of a street-dog caught in streetlights.
On their turn, Flora finds Gunda, her old scrapmate, to be not as she left her. Eight years had worn upon Riehl, carved her out, given her hard lines that didn't shift with cycles of flesh, food, and carbohydrate. All that time between then and now, between the last two moments when Flora and Riehl shared one atmosphere.
"Flo'... I'm glad you came to us. 'Bout time we pulled through for you again. Nostaliga's bitter; relying on old time's sake alone gets real sad."
Gunda crashes in, as direct as a sunslayer on a 90 degree intercept.
"Bulwarks? The name alone makes them sound indestructible. Tough as they are - they're a nightmare to maintain, let alone rebuild. We're gonna' have to gonna' have to press together together a real original solution, if we're gonna' set her broken wing. It's doable - I can tell you that much."
Flora was, is, and, to Gunda's scruples, probably will remain a trusted shoulder. Thrown together, Gunda's clique of the Union, and Flora's flank of the Gaians had, from enfilade, fought off the Corps, the Hesse, the whole cavalcade. Gunda Riehl sees in Flora a part of her home team, fighting from the same dugout.
But Gunda Riehl also knows Flo' was as survivable as she is because she compartmentalizes herself. Flora doesn't run into any negotiation with all her vulnerabilities blaring out and on display. Gaians are subtle. They keep to themselves, and the Flora Gunda knew, from eight long years ago, was an excellent Gaian.
"Manpower and smarts were never in question here. You called it as it stood, Flora. We can and will pull unionist hands, piecemeal, from Alsterworks Three - that'd be Bristol-Kress's assembly gantry. Give us four deck rotations; thirty-two hours of axial twist, and we'll have scraped up enough fitters and fabricators to cover the brain-muscle shortfall. We'll be doing it subtle, like."
"So, our 'Who', is covered. What isn't covered is our 'Means'. Pacifica's dexterous at refit work. Yet there's a whole voidspace between welding in factory-fresh ship modules from a parts bin matched to the blueprint, and improvin' in custom assemblies by eye, because we've got no other choice."
"Talent without tooling is going to get costly. You're talking a piecemeal reverse-engineering of Bri'-Kress's maintenance floor, to say nothing of custom-rigging in aftermarket components, sliced to fit."
"You're angling for the complete replacement of the portside propulsion assembly - from the fairing, to the structural limbers. Frederich's right; that's more than a swap-and-strip, that'll mean tearing out the rot."
"We can do it, we will do it - you're gonna' get your ship fixed, Flo'. But it'll go cheaper if we've got factory fresh components to transplant into her. By 'cheaper', I mean; it won't force you to wring out your pockets to retail your last lint."
"If we source the sub-assemblies from Bristol, we'd be able to effect the rebuild at Pacifica, without forcing your bulwarkthrough a total redesign. I figure you want your Bulwark to still be a bulwark under the skin, rather than an experimental one-off. Those haulers are difficult enough to service without tacking on aftermarket systems, all slapdash and improv'."
"That patrol I was burning along wasn't a distraction. No, we went and interdicted Bristol's directors' rep', and clued them in. We told them we're angling to buy aftermarket Bulwark parts, for a trusted client. I mean - I trust ya'. The Union trusts ya'..."
Gunda boresights her eyes on Flora alone.
"We'll handle the buy-in with Bristol, but Flo' - your privacy's your own, n'all; but, if you've got any prior hang-ups on the end of Bristol's hook, you should tell us. I don't want to get blindsided during the exchange if you've got a prior record."
THE SYNDIC LEAGUES
(A co-operative of Rheinland's outlawed trade unions, determined to take the underworld for themselves.)
- Miss Riehl. - Flora offered a nod as Gunda entered the office. She then stayed silent, letting the woman speak. She was a little surprised at the opening, though wouldn't let it show, chalking it up to lasting effects of Major Blake's charms. She nodded along with Riehl's words, not much she hadn't already heard from Kruger, until they got to the end.
- Bristol, right. I'm surprised to hear the Union is on good terms with them. - she commented, intrigued by the revelation. - But I suppose that makes things a lot easier. We've had contact before, yes. We reached out to acquire a Bulwark-class brand new, but they told us to pound sand. Paraphrasing. - she explained. - I... We don't trust them. Not any more than other corporates, anyway. If you have an accord with them I'm not going to stop you from exploiting it. - she paused for a second. - But we'd prefer they remained in the dark it's us you're doing the work for. I hope that is not going to be an issue?
Unable to chew on her thoughts, Riehl's molars grapple bite a vertex into her left cheek.
"No, no issues here."
Gunda refrains from giving Flo' the unfiltered history of the Tanner Scourge.
We've got Unionists in Bristol-Kress's technical teams, and we use that leverage to keep them honest. A side effect is peace in the Tanner, and a siphon on Imperial Shipping's supply chain. Plus, it sprinkles manure over Admiral Knight's memory. Don't worry, Flo'; we're not in any kleptocorp's pocket. Those days are buried."
As she wrestles with the variables, Riehl's eyes defocus.
"...Alright. It'll be a tough fix without Bristol getting clued in, but we can, and will, fix your ship."
"...So; option two, straight from the Artisans themselves; we're going to need a second Bulwark. Think of this second Bulwark as a template."
"Not any 'Wark; I mean an unmodified, intact, factory-fresh Bulwark, to use as the fabrication plant's control group. See, we'll run a subatomic profile on the fresh Bulwark, right down to the microns, and we'll use it as your own busted Bulwarks's template while we build you a fresh drive harness. Think of it as deriving a repair plan from a blueprint, but... y'know, in reverse."
"It ain't going to be cheap. Direct credit-to-value recompense isn't going to be a useful calculus. There's only so much you can do to make a build this fine-grained with general-purpose tooling, and the 'Wark design is notorious. 'Warks are overspecialized and overengineered, even with a supply chain. No, our best option's going to be to use nanofabrication robots; and that's single-use hardware we can't replace without a windfall of credits. It's the kind've gear that gets used for carving out quantum-scale picocircuitry in boutique 'fabs, rather than, well, fixing several hundred meter long spacecraft."
"We'll do it, but we'd be looking for an equivalent exchange - Y'know, payment. But credits alone aren't worth discussing here. We'll need something more."
"It's the tenets of Syndicalism: from each according to their ability, to each according to their needs. We'll be hankering after a service only Edinburgh could provide..."
"...Fredrich? Mind tweaking the muffler field up? Flo's going to need privacy. Besides; Corin doesn't want any of this ending up on record."
Riehl's hands close around the report lingering in front of Frederich. Without warning, she passes the report to Flora.
"...the passkey to unlock this tablet is 'pasaule'. Don't fret over the phonetics; it's got your voice print. You can authenticate it with your neural-hash. Sure; we Syndics aren't big on surveillance either. We'll scrub your identifiers prior to departure - you can hold our necks to that fire."
"Look; in this tablet is everything we - meanin'; the Union - know about the Atka terraforming operation. 'Course, it's redacted to remove our sources, but it's honest. It's also lacking real details."
"We figured that, in much the same way Unionists are the critical experts into the minutiae of Imperial Shipping's crimes, tribulations, and hour-by-hour operations, the Gaian movement knows enough about Planetform to correct our homework."
"We're looking for intel; a surgeon's eye into the guts of Planetform's handiwork on and around Atka. We're digging for sources, grab-points, pain-points... everything we'll need to get inside their heads."
"f you've got any questions; if you'd like to know why we're digging these roots - please, ask."
THE SYNDIC LEAGUES
(A co-operative of Rheinland's outlawed trade unions, determined to take the underworld for themselves.)
Flora took the pad, inspecting it briefly.
- I'll have our analysts take a look. But, truth be told, I don't think we'll be able to tell you much you don't already know. - she said, looking up at Gunda again. - Atka is still in its early stages, with obvious vulnerabilities. Halt the import of Terraforming Gasses or strike at the mirrors and the project will be dead in the water. Deal significant damage to Cold Bay itself, and Planetform may well withdraw completely. Like the first time. - she explained. - Point being, besides convincing the ALG to cut ties with Planetform, there is no way around resorting to brute force. - she added, pocketing the pad.
- As for the Bulwark, miss Riehl, I think... - she paused, as if considering her words. - I think we should stick with option number one. As tempting as the process of replicating a whole ship down to the atoms is in terms of... Technical challenge, I think it's also overkill. We're trying to restore an armoured transport here, not push the boundaries of material science. We do not trust Bristol to work on our ship directly, no, but if you can get the parts from them and guarantee their quality, that'll do just fine. We can cover the costs of buying the parts or compensate you in other ways. Like the intel. - she gestured for her pocket.
- But as I said, terraforming has a lot going on, but, ultimately, it's just a matter of supply. It requires ungodly amounts of resources and hardware. Block the resources, break the hardware. The operation will keel over regardless of its specific intricacies.
- I do wonder, though. Why? Why Atka, I mean. You'll have to cut your way through both Xenos and Bounty Hunters before you even catch a glimpse of Cold Bay. I can't think of a reason the loss of men and ships would be worth it for you.
"About ten years ago, during the onset of the Munich disaster, we collaborated with Med Force Enterprises to gather samples of Nuremberg's keystone species; the fauna and flora that kept the ecosystem together. This is more your stomping ground than mine. I know ships, not critters."
"You've probably aware of the loss. Nuremberg was world of teeming xenology; a precolonial wilderness that terraforming hadn't displaced. Sure, the government, and the odd research university also made genetic backups here and there, but they've done nothing to revivify extinct species. The state had the power to create wildlife preserves, but they've done nothing at scale."
"We're weighing our options to develop a full-on, autonomous habitat; either built into an installation, or an asteroid - we're talking either a Bernal sphere, built in the epicenter of an spun-up rock, or a biodome, probably ripped from the Freeport 2 wrecksite, pressurized, and made to purpose.It'll be a space where a breeder population Nuremburg's keystone species can be dispersed across compressed biomes, till, y'know, Nuremberg turns accessible - let alone habitable - again.
"Dark matter clouds shift. They swept in, they'll sweep out. But when that happens, there'll need to be a reintroduction program, or Nuremburg will turn from sterilized to irreclaimable real fast. Funds for this on the righteous side of the law got spent on a bloody civil war, so, it's up to the dregs to do something."
"Planetform's got ample data on how to engineer a dynamically stable wildlife habitat without, you know, inhumane failures along the way. We're looking to take that experience from them. It so happens that their closest corporate data cash is the Atka development site."
"Suppose the logical follow-up is asking why the Union cares about wildlife? The long answer; biospheres are job creators. All too many worlds are succumbing to either human hubris, or preventable disasters, that short-term economics won't lift a credit to prevent. All that's atrocious for life is also a threat to all of us. The short answer: It's the <expletive> right thing to do, innit?"
"As for why us - well, nobody else will, and if there's one thing we Unioners know how to do, it's building space habitats. A spaceship's just a habitat with a drive section, after all."
THE SYNDIC LEAGUES
(A co-operative of Rheinland's outlawed trade unions, determined to take the underworld for themselves.)
As always, Flora listened in silence, though her usually stoic expression now turned vaguely surprised, then bewildered. It would eventually settle on a slight frown as she processed Gunda's words. She looked aside, thinking for a few seconds, before finally replying.
- Miss Riehl, that is... A very noble undertaking. - she began, slowly. - But also not a... Feasible one. To preserve even a fraction of a planetary ecosystem would require habitats on a scale not even Synth could deliver. Hell, were it possible, we'd have done it long ago, if only to presrve the Stuttgart Blues, among others. I mean- We don't need Planetform for this. I can assure you we have access to the expertise necessary to create a spaceborne preserve, but- - she let out a quiet sigh, shaking her head. - Not on this scale. And all that ignores the simple fact that it will be, at best, decades, if not centuries, before Nuremberg becomes accessible again. And even once the storm subsides, the planet's surface will be an irradiated hellscape. Trying to reintroduce any life to that kind of environment would be like planting a tree in the Raiden. Restoring the world would require additional centuries of terraforming efforts. Something we simply cannot do without committing Planetform's signature brand of atrocity. It's just not feasible.
- We can, of course, try and revive some of Nuremberg's most crucial species on a more limited scale, but... Then what? Nuremberg is centuries out of reach, and there is nowhere to reintroduce them outside the hypothetical habitats. Does the Union plan to maintain these habitats in perpetuity? Or would you hand them over to Kaiser's universities?
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