Incoming Press Report, Five Light Years Away (Petroiska System Network Relay, DSA Controlled).

A heavy orbital dockwork opens up in Avantia! After three years of construction by our hardy workers, using the most precise engineering techniques and technologies available to us, this dockwork is expected to output ship hulls in the hundreds within the next few years alone. This counts as another victory for the proletariat!

- The Vanguard

+++ Jonathan Jones +++

Hindenburg System

Independent Space

Fenrir Station

November 20, 327th Cycle

Neither me, nor Harold, nor Juliett expected this.

“I swear, me and my men, we’re good at these things.” The half-drunk mercenary raved on in front of us. “We got the guns. The equipment. The know-how. We even served in the FEG Marine Corps. Give us the good cash, and we’ll point our guns where you want it pointed at.”

“Erm…hey, are we really sure about this? I mean, hiring twenty guns for hire?” Juliett whispered to me. “I just…don’t you think that’s possibly dangerous.”

“Well, I wouldn’t really mind some extra guns for this prison break?” I whispered back, all while Harold and the mercenary conversed about the terms. “I mean, I checked his credentials. He really is a former Lieutenant in the FEG Marines. That counts for something.”

“We’re just assaulting third-rate garrisons,” Juliett said. “I bet they don’t even pay the men guarding that extremely remote and tiny prison.”

“You do have a point.” However, I still planned to toss our money in for this. A thousand SCs should probably suffice to get a lot of those prison guards to desert after all. The Colony of Luneta was incredibly unstable, with the authority of its mining firms being the only glue holding the miners planetside. “But still, I think Harold is right. If worse comes to worse, we can have some guys do the shooting.”

“Oh…confidentiality? No worries man. You pay us and we part ways, and as for us, if someone asks, nothing happened.” He seemed almost disgusted by the idea when I looked back at the mercenary. The two of them had been talking about the ‘secrecy’ of our operation. “You and I both know that. It’s in our honor code. So? Up for hiring us?”

“Harold, how many SCs have you got,” I asked, and he turned to me, scrolling a bit on his datapad to show it.

“Thirty-eight thousand SCs,” he said, and I checked it out. It seemed that he wasn’t really doing much better than I was. Still, in planetary terms, that was a lot of money. These men were only asking four thousand SCs for their hiring for this specific mission. “I’ll just place all of the costs on my own account. It would be better that way.”

“We can split it fifty-fifty. I still have the SCs to cover half of the costs.”

“Nah, you’re already helping me enough,” Harold said. “Any more, and that’s just asking for too much. No, this is alright. I can find a way to recoup those losses. Though, I imagine I’d be quite short in SCs after this.”

“Hopefully, we don’t get into any naval fights,” I said. “Repairs are pretty damn expensive in dockworks these days.”

“It would quite literally slash my current money in half if the Rearguard got badly damaged.” He shook his head. “But no matter, we’ll just avoid a costly fight. We’ll sneak in and get those…scum out. Then we exchange, then we piss off safe and sound. Or we shoot them if they act out of the deal.”

“Optimistic. I guess I like that.”

“Some optimism is fine sometimes.” He looked back at the mercenary. “But I won’t count on it.”

“So what would it be?” The mercenary asked. “Hire or no hire? Look, I don’t mind waiting, but I got other business with other folks around here.”

“Alright, come with us, Lieutenant Steidel. We’ll arrange for the pre-mission payment today.” Harold said. “Four thousand SCs, was it?”

“Yes, four thousand. My little platoon would be quite satisfied with that.” He laughed. “And we can kick some rebel Union arse too. That’s a satisfying extra. Hey, both of you, you know, if you ever plan to kick some Union arse again, you should really keep us as your contact after this.”

“Why?” I asked, and he grinned.

“Why not? Why would anyone not be up for some good rebel kicking? Hah, even you Independents know who the real enemy is. It’s the Union. Always the Union. Oh, and the Communists too. If you both ask me, it would be really nice if you cooked up some mission where we get to shoot some DSA reds.”

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“Nationalistic, eh?” I asked, and he nodded.

“The FEG is the only true authority of the Sector. Why would anyone not be proud of it? We’re all Federation citizens. All of us. We should all work together to restore Federation rule. And end the rebel threat.”

“But you’re a mercenary.” Juliett pointed out, which seemed to have pushed his buttons a bit, but he sighed and looked at her condescendingly.

“Young lady, we still serve the FEG in our own way. And my men only take up tasks that serve FEG interests. Giving the Union a good kicking is a part of that.”

“Even when the kicking involves freeing some pirates?” Harold asked.

“So what? We pay pirates to raid the Union anyway!” He laughed boisterously. “It doesn’t matter. We get to kick them in the end. That, and the money, is what I and my men are interested in.”

It was quite interesting that this pro-FEG mercenary was that open to the FEG’s questionable activities, but…oh well. Everyone with half a mind knew that anyway. When shit happens in either the Union or the DSA, the automatic assumption would almost always be that the FEG was somehow involved in the screwing.

After all, de jure, all of the Sector was under the Federation’s sovereignty. Thus, all of us were under the FEG (which is really just a ‘local autonomous emergency government’ of the Federation anyway…or at least, according to the FEG’s leadership) in their perspective, and since the Independents, the Union, and the DSA were all just the results of former revolutions that the FEG never recognized, the previous assumption was formulated.

Still…he should probably have a bit more self-preservation instincts and avoid speaking those compromising statements out loud. But, I guess he’s a reckless merc. I mean, they were signing up for a raid on a Union prison. Not some simple anti-piracy work. I guess, this guy already has loose screws anyway.

“Alright. The deal is sealed.” Harold said, and the mercenary placed down his beer with a satisfied grin.

+++

+++ Jonathan Jones +++

I slackened down on the sofa. The quarters we rented on the Fenrir Station weren’t exactly the most luxurious. Still, it felt nice to be out of our vessels for a while. Tomorrow, we’d be returning to the trip. I almost really wanted to drift into a good sleep. I gotta wake up early.

I heard the clutterings of utensils on the dining room and the kitchen, as Juliett and Harold both prepared the food we ordered for tonight. I decided being lazy right now would be stupid, so I stood up and helped them prepare after I hung my trenchcoat and left my hat on the sofa.

“Hmm…so we bought roasted chicken?” I asked as Harold sliced into it. On the other hand, Juliett was piling up the utensils and plates before she carried them off toward the table. I settled on just helping prepare the sets of drinks we bought. Mostly cans of beer that Harold wanted.

“Yep. Feels kinda lazy to cook, but, I want some proper damned meat. We could have taken three plate orders, but, eh…I want two whole damned chickens.”

“Well, a glutton’s gotta eat.” He laughed.

“Sure, sure." He paused and sighed. "You know, quite frankly, I don’t know if this mission is going to end well for us, Jonathan. I have no promises, really, that’s why—”

“Harold, we already made things clear. Me and Juliett are coming.” I looked back at Juliett, who seemed to be busily preparing the table. “She’s determined for this. I know her. She won’t leave innocent civilians dead due to a hostage situation.”

“I can see that,” Harold said. “I can see it with the way she speaks. She’s…too naive even. Where did you even meet her? I know I’m asking for too much, but is she perhaps not a sheltered aristocrat?”

“Dude…” I warned. “She won’t like it if she hears you. She’s just…a bit different to us Sector dwellers.”

“We’re all Sector dwellers, Jonathan.”

“Yeah, but the point is, perhaps her mindset is a bit different.” I really wouldn’t find anyone that would think that the Sector was salvageable. Let alone something worthy to be saved. Perhaps it was just the three centuries of isolation and strife, but hope was pretty much dead around here. Only cynicism thrived. “I know both of us do not believe in justice, but she does. She’ll find a way to get those folks saved. I can vouch for that.”

“And you? What about you, Jonathan?” Harold asked. “Besides helping me, why are you really doing this? You’ve been a great help, I won’t deny that, but…why? Back then, you weren’t like this, weren’t you?”

I looked down. “Yeah, I would do this only for self-interest. Maybe I’m doing it for self-interest. That wouldn’t be too far from my true self, wouldn’t it?”

“That’s what I don’t understand,” he said. “You don’t seem to be doing this for yourself. You don’t seem to be doing this just for your old friend. It’s something different.”

I cracked a laugh. “Yeah, sure. Whatever it is, it’s probably not something noble regardless. Who knows, maybe I’m just trying to clear my name by doing something good. That’s how slimy I am.”

“Sure, if that’s what you believe.” Harold took a chunk of meat and gave it a taste. “Mhm…this tastes good. Maybe this is less synthetic than I thought.”

“I did hear Fenrir exports a lot of food. Some of its continents are terraformed for Terran fauna.” I said. “It’s good we made a pit stop here.”

“Sure does.” He looked back at me. “That said, I would still say that whatever your motives are…I remain thankful. I’ll pay you back ten-folds after this, brother. I didn’t expect it, but even here, I can count on your back. I’ll make sure that’s reciprocal.”

“Well…there’s really no need for that,” I said. “You’re a cleaner man than I am, Harold. You have no need to associate yourself with me after this.”

“That’s not how we go in the Von Wicht Gang, Jonathan. Good and bad acts…there will always be a payment.” He took the plate containing our roasted chicken. “Let’s eat.”

“Yeah, I’m quite starved too,” I said, just as I followed him.

My intentions? Sure, whatever you say, pal. If I wasn’t sure about it, there would be no way for him to know either.

More ‘noble’ my ass.