// Ambor Station
Skipper Melissa von Cordia | Quartermaster Issac Lasview
The Silvery alloy turned to bronzish color as the blood interacted with the coin
“Keep it with you now, Nikita. That’s your government’s ticket. I’ve got coordinates for you. These leak, you die. You bear arms, you die. You act aggressively, you die. Alternately, you come with us, conditionally, on behalf of your government, negotatiate for what you want. Journey’s six months, if you’ve got faster, two to three.”
This was… Unexpected. She was not a diplomat, even as a high-ranking KGB officer she didn’t know how to conduct this kind of mission. Even though the USPR was very big on secrecy, the secret stuff was usually kept out of diplomatic meetings. Having a facade of a regular state was useful. The USPR wasn’t a state that would allow such autonomous action and send diplomatic missions without preparation.
On the other hand, this could be a useful ally or at least a source of soldiers with more competence than barely trained factory workers that didn’t even fight in the Rebellion. The USPR was in major danger. Herman, the legendary general who helped develop most modern tactics used throughout the Republic was leading a huge force right at Crimsica. If that planet falls, the government would loose all legitimacy, the USPR would once again be a patchwork of disunited states.
It might not be perfect, Nikita witnessed it herself as the “bloody right hand” of the party. But for the first time so many worlds were safe and stable thanks to their unity. The Motherland must be protected. At any cost.
She sent a short message to her superiors outlining the situation and got a quick reply. “I’ve received clearence to represent the USPR. Your terms are understandable, I know a thing or two about secrecy. You lead the way.” Nikita said, realising she was about to depart on a journey she might not return from.
// Ambor Station
Skipper Melissa von Cordia | Quartermaster Issac Lasview | Skipper Eric Vadella
“Quartermaster how we looking on Orbital Grid?”
“Just came together a couple minutes ago.”
“Gonna give us a holler to Handel’s, we’re gonna roll.”
Melissa opens up a small device before placing it to her ear.
“SV Handel’s Flame, Cordia speakin. Give us a three burst transmat.”
“Three burst on the way.”
“Alright Nikita the grounds gonna shake a little. We’ll be using the transmat system. It’s like teleportation but it doesn’t defuse you into your quarks or atoms.”
// SV Handel’s Flame
// Saiph Pattern Heavy Cruiser
Skipper Melissa von Cordia | Quartermaster Issac Lasview | Skipper Eric Vadella
With an iridescent flash, the trio appear inside the Heavy Cruiser’s transmat room.
“CiC go to ahead full and fall into the solar winds, prepare silverspace.”
She rushes out of the room as the ship lurches forward
“She does that. It’s rather uncanny honestly.”
// Syndicate Territory
// SV Handel’s Flame
// Saiph Pattern Heavy Cruiser
Skipper Melissa von Cordia
“Alright Nikita, walk the runway. Mr Powell is waiting for us, provided I don’t get shot for squawking quad zero. Break a leg.”
// Syndicate Territory
// Prime Executive’s Corridor
// Syndica Station
Skipper Melissa von Cordia | Prime Executive Cain Powell
“The Honeybee of Cordia returns, with a friend. Enough to warrant my immediate attention. Does she bear the coin?”
“She does.”
“Well… Does the stranger of a strange land wish to speak of herself?”
Fortunately, Nikita managed to quickly get an agent to bring her a suitcase before the teleportation. She could not imagine spending six months in her uniform. The teleportation itself was a weird feeling. This type of technology was not present in the Republic. She would try to take a look at it if she could.
The trip itself was boring. She often was tired of just week long journeys, in a much more luxurious setting. Especially as she lost connection with the internet.
After a long time they reached Syndica, whose name she couldn’t really mock given what sort of name her own country had. She was informed she was going to meet some Mr. Powell, most likely Melissa’s superior. For that, she put on her ceremonial uniform. It looked like the standard service one, but with additional golden embroidery, gilded buttons, badges and medals.
“I am Nikita Beria, a delegate from the USPR to your organisation. It is a pleasure to meet you Comrade Powell.” Nikita said, in her trained emotionless and official tone.
// Syndicate Territory
// Prime Executive’s Corridor
// Syndica Station
Prime Executive Cain Powell | Skipper Melissa von Cordia
“Ms Beria, please walk with me.”
“Well that’s it for me. Mr Powell…”
“Yes, your reward. Ms Cordia, what do you seek?”
“My crew have come to the conclusion that we’d like a new ship. We have the capital for more crew, just nowhere to place them.”
“Talk to my Yeoman. They’ll have something you want.”
“Thank you, Mr Powell.”
Melissa turns as the pair walks off towards the office.
// Syndicate Territory
// Prime Executive’s Office
// Syndica Station
Prime Executive Cain Powell
“You seek a service of the Syndicate, I presume of some urgency due to your imminent arrival.”
Cain sits down, a glass of wine in his hand.
“Speak of what you require.”
“The state which I represent is looking for mercenaries, mostly ground troops. As well as direct combat they will also help with training of our own forces. Just a precaution, combat conditions are often very harsh.” Harsh was an understatement. The trench warfare was harsh for everyone, but the trenches of the red army were often poorly built due urgency, lack of experience and materials. Add shortages of equipment, food and competent commanders and you have the worst fighting conditions in the Republic. “Don’t worry about the price, we can cover it. Provided your services are worth it.”
// Syndicate Territory
// Prime Executive’s Office
// Syndica Station
Prime Executive Cain Powell
Cain weighs up the words of the foreign dignitary as he takes a sip of his wine
“You want to bring in the bloodthirsty of the bloodthirsty. So be it. Conditionally, of course.”
“The Mercenaries assigned to train your new forces will be allowed to teach in the manner they see fit, using weapons they see fit.”
“The mercenaries engaging in conventional warfare will report directly to whatever command outfit is in charge. They will execute their own tactics, and may fight alongside or independently, depending on the operational task at hand.”
“Are these terms acceptable?”
These terms were more than most mercenaries in the Republic usually demanded. This definately deviated from the USPR’s standard procedures, which favored standarisation and cetralisation. But then the sheer fact of recruiting them deviated from standard procedures.
“They are acceptable. Keep in mind not all weapons will be available for training and that independent operations, without proper communication, can result in very nasty cases of friendly fire.” Nikita said. Even though this was a small warning to Powells, it was also true. Friendly fire sometimes happened even among red army units and the weapon shortages were quite severe.
// Syndicate Territory
// Prime Executive’s Office
// Syndica Station
Prime Executive Cain Powell
Cain smiles, probably for the first time in a long time
“Very well. I believe Melissa to be waiting for you. Give me a minute to speak to her.”
// Syndicate Territory
// SV Handel’s Flame
// Prime Executive’s Corridor
Captain Melissa von Cordia
“Well, guess I’m in charge now of mercenary forces in the RUW. I got around fifty thousand of these guys trying to cram themselves into my new ship, and the rest are preparing their own ships for the journey. We should have the numbers to make a difference and enough of a supply system to keep us in the fight, indefinitely. Let’s roll.”