“You better go back into the cabin, guys. I mean I don’t want to throw you out of the cockpit, but it would definitely be better for you.”

“Good luck, Carl. You will bring us through. I know it.” Merx tried to reassure Hansen before he followed the others.

In the cold shabby cabin they sat down on the seats which were mounted right behind the cockpit wall.

Each man was troubled by the thoughts what could all happen to them on the other side of the jumpgate.

Bergander even feared that the old Mule border world freighter might just fall apart. He had been scared of it each single time when a jump had to be performed. Still, Alina Sorsa’s freighter had made it. It made everything. And due to her past as member of the Red Hessians, she even had a nice amount of guns and missiles mounted to the old freighter. Probably those guns had cost more than the entire ship.

Henning Sorsa had explained that she had collected them in space during Asgard times and he had repaired them later on Planet Hamburg in their garage.
The fact that his wife was expecting the second child had made it easy for his friend to borrow the freighter to Bergander. She won’t be in need of it any time soon. That had not prevented her from protesting though. The Sorsas had of course heard about the Magellan disaster and the ex Red Hessian had asked some really unpleasant questions. She expected him to bring the freighter back. In one piece. Bergander had promised to do so without telling them about the real nature of his planned vacation. It probably won’t become a vacation. Merx and Hansen had done their best to get the equipment together. Computers, water and food supplies for a few days in space, a small cooking device, provisional beds, clothes, small arms for each of them, survival gear, spare parts, paint to cover the ship’s registration and more.

The fact that Phillip Merx had made an engineer’s degree and a technical education certainly helped. If he had been flight control officer like back on the Hessen seven years ago, he would not have been of any use. But as engineer he managed together with Hansen and Herfeld, who also both had a good share of technical knowledge, to re-equip the freighter. A friend had owed Merx a favour, so he had gotten a better shield generator, which had been mounted as well. They had repaired the tractor beam and also increased the ship’s armour where it had been necessary.

After two days of cabin cleaning the Mule looked really comfortable. Even Hansen had forgotten about his past experiences with this freighter class. The Asgard had tried to seize the Rügen with Mules pretending a pirate attack. It was hard for the pilot to forget about that, but another ship had not been available.
After one week they had been done and loaded a bit of freight to appear like harmless traders if necessary. After a few training flights they had left Rhineland.
Bergander and Hansen flew the ship in shifts while Herfeld and Merx had a good time in the cabin. Until they had left for Liberty two days ago and arrived in Galileo. Now the first difficult phase was starting. Getting into an occupied system right to the place where most forces were gathering.

For the first time, Bergander wished to have a cloaking device at hand. The jump shock interrupted his thoughts.

“The jumphole is clear!” Hansen reported from the cockpit and started the cruise engines taking course on their first coordinates. Their problem was that the ship’s wreckage could not be located by them. They did not have the position and had to search in the entire sector.

“All right guys, if we are getting caught we are just smugglers on the way to Nome.”

“Smugglers. What else? Xenos maybe?”

“Oh, you are definitely looking like a smuggler, Frederick. And like a Xeno of course. A Xeno smuggler maybe? Shall I buy you a Startracker Light Fighter when we get to Manhattan next time?”

“Very funny!”

“Relax! Everything will work out!” Bergander noticed like the others that Herfeld could apparently stand any kind of stress on the bridge of a large ship, but when he had to endure stress in other situations, he got easily angry. They would have to live with that, because the ex-Asgard was their man concerning anything related to his ex-superiors. They needed him. He knew many things Bergander and the others could not even think about, but one moment later he immediately made them feel the large gap again, which existed between them and him. Frederick Herfeld was different. Entirely different. Even to Bergander who knew him best, he remained a mystery.

All they could do now was waiting. Waiting until Hansen managed to locate something. Or nothing. Depending on how one saw it. Bergander himself was not entirely convinced that the Oregon was not here. Herfeld definitely believed that everyone on the ship was alive. But did even he really believe it? Or did he know something? The old mistrust slowly returned. Even Bergander felt it and Hansen also did. It was not easy for them to share such small quarters with a man whose behaviour was alien to them and who had been an enemy not too long ago. How much could they really trust him? Wasn’t it easy for Herfeld to deceive them? But on the other hand… why should he?

After five long hours, Hansen called Bergander and asked to be relieved by him. Getting into the pilot’s seat, Bergander pointed at the map on the navigation display. Hansen reported which area he had already covered with the pattern they had worked out together. Of course both of them knew that the entire sector was too big to be covered entirely by them. Not with a freighter having only a small radar. No, they had to be confident about chance counting for them. Perhaps they were lucky. Certainly the Oregon did not get lost close to the tradelane between the gates or near one of the jumpholes. It was most likely that the ship had been destroyed in one of the nebulas. What it had done there, no one of them could know. Maybe they would soon find out.

On Bergander’s question whether he had noticed something strange, Hansen only replied that the lack of Liberty forces made him doubt that there was anything in this system. Or anyone apart from them.

While Hansen went back to the cabin to relax or sleep, Bergander continued the pattern. They were still within the largest of the system’s three nebulas between the Colorado jumpgate and the jumphole they had come from. An older wreckage sometimes appeared on Bergander’s radar, but he did not care about it. It was not the one they were looking for. Its position was known and marked in the navigation system so that no one entering the nebula would collide with it.
Seeking in an entire nebula for a wreckage with just one ship while the sensor efficiency was extremely reduced definitely got at Bergander’s nerves. He understood by now why Hansen had asked to be relieved. It was tiresome and boring to stare at the radar and out of the window just to stare at the radar again. They were indeed alone. Entirely alone.

During one of those looks out of the window, he saw something though. Nothing that looked like the Oregon, but fighters. Fighters coming towards them, shortly illuminated by a flash of light within the nebula. They did not have the familiar shape of Defenders. They had the shape of smaller ships, which meant that they were Xenos. Pirates.

Not thinking, Bergander turned the ship around, heading for the tradelane between the Colorado jumpgate and the Ames Research Station. If they made it either to the gate or to the station, they would be safe.
Within a minute, the others had crowded behind him in the freighter’s small cockpit. They had noticed the steep turn.

Hansen did not say a word though. He only gave Bergander advice, but he did not ask to relief him. It was the worst thing they could do right now.

When it was certain that the pirates came closer, the pilot pulled Herfeld and Merx out of the cockpit. Bergander heard him advice the others to secure the cargo and to sit down again, pulling their belts as fast as they could. It calmed him. He knew the others entirely depended on him. His knowledge and his skills were demanded.
They had come close enough to appear on his radar screen. They were not that much faster, because Alina Sorsa had apparently bought the best engines she could get. Still it was not of any help right now. The pirates had the smaller and lighter ships. They also outgunned and outmanoeuvred him. A light fighter’s gun might not cause the biggest damage, but a missile did. And it was very hard to hit a light fighter with guns fired from a larger freighter.

There were four of them. More appeared in some distance, not too far away. Once they fired a cruise disruptor it would be over. The others would come closer and they would destroy the freighter and take whatever was left of his cargo and equipment. The Xenos lived from it, just like the other pirates too. A single Mule was an easy prey. If he had been alone he would have thought about fighting them, but not with Herfeld, Merx and Hansen back in the cabin. He felt responsible for them. They trusted him. They had to get alive out of this!

A single shot being fired at his ship. No… it had been a missile flying past the cockpit. He had been lucky. The tradelane was barely 4k away. If he just made it…

He tried to evade. To give no clear target by avoiding to fly straight forward…

Suddenly there was a bang and a hit. Bergander was catapulted forward in his seat. Just the seatbelt prevented him from kissing the instrument panel. The second cruise disruptor had hit the Mule. The cruise engines were offline. He quickly pressed some buttons and switches and the conventional engines came to life. If he activated the freighter’s afterburner, he would perhaps manage to get rid of them. It was the only possibility.

Something hit again. Just gunfire. The shields were holding. He had to go ahead, reach the tradelane they would just be fine…

“Mule, the next one will be a missile. Don’t try to get your cruise engines back online. We got two disruptors aimed at your heck. Stop immediately and surrender or you will be destroyed.” Again the freighter was hit by gunfire.

Helplessly Bergander watched as the other Xenos reached his position. Now there were ten of them. Too many to fight. There had been no time.

“What do they want?” Hansen had gotten up and joined him.

“Surrender.” Bergander answered without looking up from radar.

“The tradelane?”

“2.5k away.”

“How many?”

“Ten. Shall we try to make it?”

“Turn the engines off.”

“But…”

“There is no but. If we surrender we got a small chance to live. If they all fire at once, we don’t. There are too many of them to fight them. They shall have the cargo and the equipment. It’s better than dying here.” Hansen’s voice was entirely calm.

Having heard a second opinion, Bergander did not hesitate. Hansen had only said aloud what he had thought himself too.

“We see that you followed our request. Power up and slowly follow the Startracker ahead of you. Don’t try to flee and don’t fire a single shot at him If you do either of it, you won’t live long enough to see the end coming.” the anonymous male voice ordered.

Slowly one of the pirates flew past them. He did not activate the cruise engines. The pirates knew that a good pilot could manoeuvre and get out of range of their weapons if they allowed him to activate cruise.

After a helpless look at Hansen who just nodded, Bergander reactivated the engines and followed him. He almost felt the guns and missiles aimed at their ship, while the Xenos had their fingers on the trigger.

“We could just try to negotiate with them.” Bergander suggested. “Tell them we are scientists or something.”

“Sure we could try it. But it won’t change anything. Scientists don’t fly Mules you know. They are equipped by the house they belong to. If this was not a borderworld ship, they would just have killed us.”

“Now that’s lucky. What do you think they will do?”

“Force us to land at their base. This way they want to see who we are and then decide to kill us.”

“Now that really comforts me.”

“Do you wish to be relieved?” Hansen pointed towards the cabin. “I think your services may be needed later on. I would feel better if you were with the others. You are used to such situations.”

“Not more than you are.”

“Hey, I have never lived on a freeport! You have done so. You have to know, Henning Sorsa told me about a few things. I understand now why he had to desert and find you. Poor fellow.”

“He will be even poorer if his wife loses the freighter. Their income depends on it.”

“As I said, go back to the cabin and talk to them. If anyone of us can negotiate with the Xenos and convince them to release us it’s you, Sebastian.”

“All right, you can carry on. If you see any chance to get away, don’t hesitate.” Bergander got up and freed the pilot seat.

“You should not hesitate either. But be aware that a fight won’t help us. If one false shot damages the hull, we can forget about it entirely. If you ask me we better negotiate and leave the arms where they are.”

After a last look on the pirate ship in front of them he left the cockpit. If he had been on the Hessen or the Westerland now facing his demoralized crew, he would have forced a smile, no matter how hard that would have been for him. But here it would not work. This was no battleship. These men were not under his command. They were here because they wanted to be. He was supposed to be honest with them. It was exactly what he would expect if he were in their situation.

“How many of them?” Herfeld asked calmly. It was strange after all the excitement he had shown during the last days.

“Ten by now. They are escorting us to Nome.”

“Didn’t we want to go there in case the military asks? One should never easily say something like that.” This time the man was even smiling before he decided to get up.

Bergander and especially Merx were flattened when he came back with a bottle of Scotch.
“Figured it would be a good time for it, since we are going to hell anyway…” Instead of going ahead, Herfeld opened the bottle and drank. “Anyone else?”
“Me.” Merx, who was as white as a ghost, reached out for the bottle and took a sip. He coughed and gave it back to Herfeld, who drank again. “What about you, Sebastian?”
“No, thank you.” This was really not the navy. If Herfeld had done anything like that on the Westerland, he would have been arrested for that. Bergander would have given that order personally, but right now it did not matter. The navy was not even going to care about their death. They had quit. Perhaps obituary would be published concerning the Honour’s Cross bearer Sebastian Bergander, who had just been murdered by Xenos in Kepler. Few people would perhaps ask themselves, what he had done there at all and even more would say that it had been all his own fault. A rational thought.

Like him the others apparently had similar thoughts. They exchanged the scotch bottle quite devoted and regularly. Bergander had the impression that at least Merx tried to get into a coma-like state in expectation that this would make death become less painful. About Herfeld Bergander like usually did not know. There were few occasions in which the ex-Asgard shew his real feelings.

“I got Nome on radar! You better prepare for the landing!”

“Affirmative!”

Playing along was all they could do. Bergander heard Merx repeating a short prayer over and over. Herfeld put the bottle away and closed his eyes. He seemed entirely relaxed, but he couldn’t be. Not in their situation. Bergander stared at the opposite wall with the ropes, which usually held the ship’s cargo. Would the Mule ever transport cargo again in its life?

The landing was smooth. A short while after that Hansen turned the systems off. A knock on the hatch made Bergander unfasten his seat belt. He got up, hesitated for a moment and then opened. There was no sense in refusing. The less angry the pirates were, the better they could perhaps be reasoned with. They would get the hatch open anyway, so much was certain. It was rather the gesture behind it that counted. The way they would get this done.

There were at least 20 outlaws surrounding the ship. Most of their guns were aimed at his head. He raised his hands.

“Leave the freighter and get down.” A man in his forties seemed to be their leader. He had a black goatee beard and did not smell like a pirate. At least not like the usual pirate.

Slowly Bergander got down to his knees and lay down on the hangardeck, hands folded at the back of his head, while the order was repeated. Another was given to some other pirates to search the ship.

Someone got down besides him. A quick look revealed that it was Herfeld. Even he sweated. In this position, it would be easy for the pirates to interrogate them and shoot a bullet right into the back of their head if they were not content with the answer.

“You are the one responsible, right?”

It was odd to see only the shoes, but not the man himself. The question had been simple though. He had not flown the machine recently, but the others would probably agree if he gave a positive answer. He had been their commanding officer in the navy. “Yes.”

“These three are all who have been with you on the ship?”

“Yes.”

“Who are you and where are you from?”

Fr a moment he thought about lying, but the Xenos would soon find out anyway. And then they would be in real trouble. Pirates disliked being lied to. “Sebastian Bergander. We have come from Rhineland.”

“The Honour’s Cross bearer?” A dry laugh. “The idiot who got almost killed in Magellan during a manoeuvre?”

“Yes. That’s me.”

“What about the others then?”

Probably the lie about being scientists was no good idea either. All three men still wore their hair short cut. Just like him. “They were officers on my ship.”

“That’s interesting. You know, we are usually not that friendly towards those we rob. Not at all honestly. But I am sure you could be of… some kind of value for Rhineland perhaps. They may be willing to exchange you… for something else being worth more. Credits perhaps. Why did you come to Kepler, Captain?”

“We wanted to give a few friends the last honour. Friends whom we knew from the Great War and from Dortmund Station.” Bergander followed his intuition. He only prayed that it would give him further good ideas. And it wasn’t entirely wrong either. A partly reason for him being here was Jason Hart.

“You have been searching for the Oregon then? Interesting…”

“Yes. Do you know where we can find the wreckage?”

“What makes you think at all that we let you go again? Ah, don’t move, Captain!”

Bergander had indeed tried to turn around to look at the Xeno Commander, but it was not permitted. In fact one of the pirates set his foot on Bergander’s head, causing him the feeling of his fingers being about to break while he could barely breathe. At once the pressure was gone again.

“They don’t have anything of value. Not much cargo. Just a few consumer goods. Instead it looks inside like if they had been living in this freighter for days.” one of the other Xenos reported.

“That’s true.” Bergander interfered. He was scared of what the man might say next and it indeed came: “But there are computers in it and the ship has been repaired recently. It looked as if they were planning an even longer journey.”

Bergander heard Herfeld suck in air and he knew that they had lost.

He heard more than he saw that Herfeld straightened as if he prepared himself for something. “No!” He quickly whispered in his direction. Any resistance would get all of them killed in less than ten seconds.

“So what did you try to do then?” The Xeno leader went ahead. “Did you intend to repair the Oregon maybe? Or what do you need the technical equipment and the stored supplies for?”

Bergander heard someone getting closer and the cold metal of a gun touched the back of his head.

“You know that I don’t like it if I am being lied to. I don’t like that at all. The truth, Rhinelander and we will maybe keep you alive and release you if Rhineland pays ransom for you and your men. If you lie, I will shoot you and my men will shoot your men. I am listening.”

“For Christ’s sake tell him the truth!” Merx sounded badly frightened. “Otherwise he’s going to kill us!”

“Listen to him. Tell me about everything, Rhinelander.”

“I can’t.” In that moment it was easier for Bergander to live with the thought of losing everyone including his own life than to live with the thought of losing one of them.

“Tell him. It’s up to him to decide.” Herfeld confirmed.

Swallowing deeply, Bergander said just one sentence: “We want to confirm whether the Oregon was destroyed or not.”

“You want to confirm… what kind of **** is this? I told you to tell the truth!”

“It is the truth!” Merx almost shouted it.

“Our friend here seems to become a little nervous as it seems. Good, let’s say I believe you, why would you think that the ship did not get destroyed right here in Kepler?”

“Because an Asgard admiral is commanding it and most of its crew has been Asgard as well!” Herfeld answered. His voice was absolutely steady.

“That’s impossible! Why would the Liberty Navy do such a foolish thing?”

“It’s not impossible. Liberty faked the crew list.”

“You seem to know what you are talking about. Who are you if I may ask?”

“Frederick, shut up for your own sake!” The kick Bergander received for this remark hurt, but it was not as bad as the thought of losing Herfeld.

“Frederick Herfeld. Lieutenant Commander Frederick Herfeld. I served on the Odin during the New Berlin battle.”

Again a dry laugh, while excited whispers could be heard of some other pirates. “Looks like we got something of value here then. Or rather someone. We just need to take you to Kusari space. A flight of maybe two hours and we will be a few hundred thousands or even millions richer.”

“No! You may not do that!” Bergander protested. “If the Oregon really just disappeared, the Asgard might… ahh!”

“Shut up, Rhinelander. You will only talk if I wish you to do so. One word and I will break your fingers. Compared to him you and the others are not of very much value to us. Having guests always means having to take care of them. Getting a bounty placed on someone’s head is easier and more effective.”

“Oh God! No! Don’t kill us! Please don’t! I don’t want to die!”

A shot rang on the station’s hangar deck before any of the men could act.

The leader let go of Bergander, who was horrified and almost frozen. Who of them had been hit?

“He tried to get up.”

“You missed.” Were the only words of the Xeno leader to his man.

“They just shot Phillip!” Hansen’s voice was full of fear as well. “He is bleeding!”

Bergander suppressed the need to get up immediately. The pirates would fire without mercy or hesitation. And the worst thing was that he and the others were not able to help, but would rather die the same way.

It was Herfeld, who continued Bergander’s statement: “You should know that he told the truth. If the Oregon was not destroyed and joined the remaining Asgard ships, Sirius will be in trouble again fairly soon. You will be in trouble again fairly soon. They only need to mount one of the cloaking devices. The Oregon alone is very powerful, but depending on the number of its escort ships and with a cloaking device on it, history could be revised. It could go same way again, just in a different order: Rhineland, Liberty, Bretonia, Kusari. No house would resist if a large carrier with its escort just decloaks right in the orbit of its home planet. They would surrender after what has happened on New Tokyo. Maybe the Asgard would even complete their task this time and rule the border worlds as well.”

“Why should we believe you? You were one of them after all. You may have changed sides and destroyed their flagship, which was the former Rügen, but the Asgard education is still inside you. It changes things for us. You could play games with us and their so called friends. Delivering you to Kusari space is easier than having to figure out the truth.”

“If the Asgard get grip of Sirius again, I am going to die anyway. We are wasting our time here. Let us go and we leave. Kill the others and take me to Kusari and you might die within the next five years.”

The coolness in Herfeld’s voice made Bergander shudder. The man talked about things as if he was not concerned by them at all.

“Your Asgard education really starts to annoy me. Did it teach you to tolerate pain as well?”

A strange sound and a sudden short cry of pain.

“It apparently did not teach you that. I have seen others, Herfeld. Others, who could bear such without a single cry. Have him bound and the ships prepared. Kill the others.”

“Hugh, I don’t think that it is such a good idea. What if he tells the truth?” one of the other Xenos asked.

“Then we will worry about that when the time for it has come. What do you want to do with them then? Give them their ship back and let them go? Perhaps even help them searching? Wake up! They are enemies! Next time they will come back with a battleship and attack our base! We cannot let them go! We cannot let Bergander go! When did we ever get the possibility to hit the Rhineland military so hard than we will by sending them his head?”

“Did you know…” Herfeld took a deep breath. His voice was full of the pain he apparently felt, but the man fought for control and tried to hide it. “… that the Asgard thought same way when they were trying to gain control over Rhineland? They decided to kidnap any high ranking officers they could get. It was successful. And what did it lead to in the end? You are using the same strategy right now, playing right into their hands. Weakening Rhineland’s forces will just make it easier for them. A good strategy, really!”

Bergander did not know what Herfeld was aiming for, but he did not believe it when the Xeno spat out and said in a disgusted way: “I don’t have anything in common with the Asgard.” His next orders were given clearly though: “Unload the consumer goods from their ship. We will have to pay our expenses. And you leave. Leave quickly before I rethink my decision. Leave Kepler through the Colorado jumphole. If we ever see you again in this system, we will kill you.”

Uttering a sigh of relief, Bergander relaxed at once. They would not be killed by the pirates. If it was not already too late.

The pirates had unloaded the Mule in less than five minutes. A painful kick indicated that he should get up. Unsteady on his feet he staggered towards Hansen and Merx. The red sea on the dirty floor scared him, but they could not do anything right now. The pilot, who had a black eye himself, helped him to carry the unconscious Phillip Merx into the freighter, while Herfeld followed and closed the hatch. Hansen did not waste much time and headed for the cockpit.

Herfeld tried to help him as good as possible, but Bergander saw that he could not use his right hand. Pressing a bandage on the wound in Merx’ breast, Bergander asked quietly: “What about your hand?”

“The wrist is broken. Nothing to worry about. I can get along with the other.”

The freighter’s engines came to life. Hansen did not waste time and less than two minutes later they were in space.

‘Nothing to worry about.’ What a reply. Bergander still thought about it. “We should fly to the Ames Research Station. If we activate cruise and take the tradelane, we could get him to hospital in less than twenty minutes.”

“And get killed if we launch again from it and enter one of the nebulas.” Herfeld replied. “It won’t be of any use to him and neither to us.”

“It would be wrong to say that we were lucky.”

“No. It is right to say it. We were very lucky. It was Phillip’s own fault. He panicked and they shot him. If he dies it is really his own fault.”

Bergander could not agree with that, but he did not say so.


“Jump!” Hansen warned.

Bergander and Herfeld stopped for a second in their attempts to save Merx’ life and grabbed a hold for the jump to Colorado.

As Bergander knew he would not have to tell Hansen to land at the first possibility which was offering. The cruise engines were activated right after the jump. “That was it then. We better bring the ship back to Hamburg and leave it.”

“Why should we?”

“Because we have failed and it would be suicide to return to Kepler.”

“There is no need to return to Kepler.” Herfeld stressed the words in the middle of the sentence extremely.

“What do you mean by that?”

“There are two possibilities. Either the pirates had a good day and let us go out of mercy without being willing to help us or they let us go because they know something.”

At once Bergander understood. “Like for example that the Oregon is not in Kepler?”

“Exactly. If someone should know where the ship is, it would be them. That dude, who protested against your execution sounded scared. And this means that they have not found the Oregon. Of course it could have been lost so far out that even they don’t fly there regularly, but it probably means in contrast to what we have thought that the wreckage is not in one of the Kepler nebulas.”

“But where the hell has the Liberty Navy been then? We checked it today morning. Kepler is still closed! We did not see a single one of their ships! Not even a single Defender!”

“They probably had a good reason to leave. A reason only they know about. I suggest that we have a closer look at the Liberty systems later after we got Phillip into hospital. As far as I know Liberty currently owns six capital ships of Asgard origin. Minus the Oregon there are five left. Two destroyers, a smaller carrier and two cruisers. If there has been a problem with the Oregon’s crew including the possibility of them deserting would mean that the ships are docked at the yards or stationed in planetary orbits. Liberty would secretly have to replace the majority of the crews. They would be unable to operate the ships properly. It can tell us a lot if we can see whether the ships are docked and in Liberty space or not.”

“And after that?”

“We will leave for Magellan. I want to talk at least to this guy on Freeport 4 again. My old friend pirate Jack.”

“He will probably talk a lot if we buy him a few whiskeys.”

“You name it."

“What do we tell the Liberty police? I mean Phillip got a bullet in his breast and we cannot tell them that we come from Kepler. They would immediately arrest us.”

“Good question.” Herfeld looked doubtfully at Bergander. “We will have to come up with something.”

“Without a doubt. I don’t want them to think that it might have been us who shot him.”

“Give me a few minutes to think about it. I will make up something.”

“Hopefully with better success than my attempt at Nome.” Bergander said quietly while looking at Merx, thinking: ‘Hang on just a few minutes, Phillip!’










Edited by - [WPIcefox on 3/2/2006 9:37:05 AM

“Sebastian?”

Merx’ quiet voice was the greatest thing Bergander had ever heard in his life.
“Don’t talk, Phillip.”

“What happened?”

“You got shot at Nome Base yesterday evening. We brought you back to the Colorado system. You are in Pueblo Station’s hospital.”

“Are the others okay?”

“Yes they are. Don’t worry about us right now. Sleep and get well again. The doctor said that you will have to stay here for at least another week.”

“Where are Carl and Frederick?”

“They left today morning and want to check something in New York and California.”

“A pity that I can’t go with you.”

Bergander smiled. “Nah, we will wait for you with our great discoveries.”

“I would rather prefer it if you would not discover anything.” Something seemed to trouble Merx.

Of course Bergander knew what it was. “It doesn’t matter, Phillip. You did not screw up. We could have spent days in the nebulas and we would probably not have found a thing. The pirates told us about it before we left.”

“They told you about the ship?”

“Yes. Just relax and sleep. Everything is fine. I am here.” Bergander lied to him, but it was the best thing he could do right now. It had been close. Merx had almost died on the operation table. He was not allowed to get excited right now. It could kill him.

“You have to go. Don’t care about me.”

Merx was of course right. They could not wait for him. Still Bergander felt very uncomfortable when he thought about leaving the injured man behind in Liberty space.

“It seems like I don’t have any luck when I am underway with you. I always end up in hospital and that just right at the beginning.”

“As long as you don’t die I don’t care.” Bergander smiled. “You are very lucky, Phillip.”

“Just like you. But not lucky enough to finish just one mission with you.”

“You already finished one mission with me and that was on the Westerland.”

“True.” Merx seemed to become tired, so Bergander touched his hand and waited till the man closed his eyes.

After being sure that he was sound asleep Bergander quietly left the room. To his surprise Herfeld and Hansen were waiting outside. Both looked very tired as well, although there was another explanation for it.

“And?”

“Bingo. We found one ship docked at the Baltimore Shipyard and two were in California floating near Willard Station. A destroyer and a cruiser. No activity visible, but we could not get too close of course. I bet the carrier and the other cruiser will be docked either here in Colorado or in Texas.” Herfeld explained.

“So we found Liberty’s ships, but that doesn’t prove a thing. Why weren’t the destroyer and the cruiser docked as well?”

“I don’t know, but it doesn’t matter either. They were in Liberty space close to Navy stations. That matters.” Herfeld stated. “How is Phillip?”

“Better. He’s sleeping again. He will make it. He wants us to leave without him.”

“It’s a logical decision, but those are good news anyway. Leave a short notice behind for him telling that we are going to be back in a few days prior to his release. We will pick him up again.”

The suggestion sounded wise, so Bergander nodded.

No one of them was really willing to talk in such a place about their plan so they left quickly after giving the paper to one of the nurses.

At the spaceport they held another meeting in the freighter’s cabin. Here they felt definitely safer while talking about such matters.

“All right. You guys need sleep or shall we launch and fly to Magellan?”

“Magellan.” Herfeld said immediately.

“Magellan.” Hansen also decided, but he added: “You can fly, Sebastian. We can sleep meanwhile.”

“Sure. Just tell me where you want to go.”

“I suggest we start our search at Freeport 4. We could talk to the Independent Miner’s Guild representative again and check for news.”

“He might recognize us and count two and two together.”

“Right. Let’s better not do so then. We should still take the risk though. This time we are not wearing uniform and we look slightly different. A Mule is not a battleship either, so there should be no problem. This way we should not attract any attention. If this guy is really the head of the station, we should not meet him again unless he got his office in that freaking bar.”

“You really seem to be fond of Jack, Frederick.”

“Very funny, Sebastian. I just think that we should try to get an agreement with the Lane Hackers before entering the nebula. I don’t want to have another encounter like that one in Kepler with the Xenos.” Herfeld took a short look at his bandaged right hand.

“An agreement with the Lane Hackers… how do you want to do that again?”

After several days Herfeld shew for the first time an honest smile when he answered Hansen: “Just the same way I dealt with the policemen today morning. I also expect the Lane Hackers to be very interested in our research. The IMG might have profit from the interferences causing everyone to land at Freeport 4, but the pirates certainly don’t have any advantage from it. On the contrary. Therefore they might have a very open ear for our request.”

“You are an optimist, Frederick.”

------------------------------------------


Bergander left the Mule’s cabin after the landing on Freeport 4. He had brought the freighter down and turned all the ship’s systems off. The flight had been eventless. No interferences and no pirates. The tradelane had taken them without any interruption to the station. Now it was time to go and see what they could get to know about the strange things in this system. Whether there were any at all, although no one of them had any doubts about it.

Carl Hansen was still sound asleep. It seemed not to matter for him that he was not outstretched on any kind of bed but rather sitting on one of the seats. Bergander found a saying to be true: Pilots could really sleep anytime and anywhere.

Herfeld could not. He was awake and put the blanket away. Nothing of his former tiredness had remained. He looked as fresh as if he had slept in a comfortable hotel bed or at least on a bunk on a battleship.
Bergander wondered how much the man had really rested. “What about Carl? Shall we wake him up?”

“Let him sleep. We will need him soon. There more rest he can get the better it is. I would also rather not leave the ship without guard here. It could be stolen.”

“Indeed. At least some parts of it. We might really have two ships afterwards. Do you want to shave and wash first?”

“Hey, we are not on the Oder Shipyard. I can do so later. We would probably attract attention if we look like civilised people.”

“Don’t let them hear that. They could lynch you for it.”

“They could try it.” Herfeld shew Bergander the pistol he wore in his belt holster. “Do you want one as well?”

“Yes. But please don’t use it unless it’s absolutely necessary.”

“I would never use it unless it’s absolutely necessary.”

Having his own thoughts regarding that matter, Bergander grabbed one of the guns plus the suiting holster, He fastened the holster to his belt and opened the hatch.

This time no one had come to meet them. There was just the normal bustle on the station’s hangardeck. Ships arrived and ships left. The entire variety of border world productions was met by freighters and small fighters coming from Liberty or Bretonian space.

After he had closed the hatch again, Bergander lead the way to the bar. He needed no guide. He remembered the way well.

“It does not like if he is here.”

“Let’s have a drink and wait. Sometimes patience gets rewarded.”

“By success?” Herfeld asked stressing the word success.

“At least by surprise.” Bergander laughed and sat down at a free table. He saw that his companion was uncomfortable. Last time they had been saved by the unwritten rules being valid on any Freeport in Sirius. This time nothing would help them if they got attacked by someone. Still he felt some kind of thrill. No one here knew about their true identity. There would be a lot of trouble if some people would know. Anonymity was their best cover.

A waiter asked for their wishes and soon reappeared with three whiskeys. Herfeld had learned his lesson and took the same drink this time.

“You guys are waiting for someone?” The IMG employee almost looked himself like a pirate. He only had one good eye. The other one was covered by a dirty piece of cloth being tied around his head.

“Yes. Make that 20 credits. The rest is for you.”

The waiter gave Bergander his credit chip back. “Thank you very much. May I help you perhaps?”

“That’s very kind of you, bud, but he will surely arrive soon.”

Smiling again the man left.

“Why didn’t you ask him about Jack?”

“Because sometimes it’s better to…” Feeling cold metal being pressed into his back Bergander stopped short.
Herfeld wanted to pull his gun, but the man, who was sitting on the table behind theirs, pressed the gun harder into his rips, making Bergander eject a startled sound.

“Slowly put the weapon down and kick it over here or he is going to die and so are you if you dare to aim at me.” Swiftly the criminal also pulled Bergander’s gun out of the holster.

Nodding in silent acknowledgement of defeat, Herfeld put the weapon on the floor and kicked it towards the man on the neighbour table.

“You are not from here, right?” The tone was conversational, not even unfriendly. Just the gun in his back was.

It made Bergander sweat and caused him pain. “Right.”

“Rhineland I suppose?”

He just nodded. He definitely had not meant this by ‘surprise’, as he had mentioned in his talk to Herfeld.

“Why did you come here and why do you want to talk to Jack?”

“Are you from the Hackers?”

“I am the one to ask the questions here. Not you.”

“You can put the weapon down. We are no enemies of the Lane Hackers.” Herfeld did not seem very scared. On the other hand it was definitely not him who had the gun in the back!

“It’s up to us to decide who is an enemy and who is not.”

Two other men joined the pirate at the other table. They had their guns drawn as well. “Problems?”

“No, I am just talking to these guys. They have come far from Rhineland and they want to speak with Jack. They even call themselves our friends.” The way he stressed the house’s name made it sound like being very extraordinary.

“Rhineland? I can’t remember having any friends in Rhineland!”

“Neither can I.” The first pirate gave him a shove with the gun making Bergander almost fall off his chair. “Who are you? Secret Service or police?”

Truth was probably all that could rescue them again. “Navy. Ex-Navy rather.”

One of the others came closer. “Hey! I have seen him before! He has been here about two weeks ago with that navy ship.”

Their cover was blown. The loud announcement made everyone at the bar look at them. Few got up, coming into their direction.

“Oh ****!” was all that even Herfeld could say.

Closing his eyes Bergander nodded. Straight forward he admitted: “Yes. I have commanded it. I would be very pleased if you were so kind to take your gun away.”

“Why should I?”

“We have to talk.”

“Talk about what?”

Bergander gathered all his courage and leaned backwards, whispering: “We are on a private mission, because we are trying to find out what’s going on in this system. We intend to fly deep into the nebula.”

The pressure in his back decreased. “You are intending to do what? Man, I heard about you Rhinelanders being crazy, but that’s more than crazy. Those who are crossing a certain line are never seen again.”

“Does that include capital ships as well?” Herfeld asked.

“I don’t know. You think of Jack’s words, right?”

“Perhaps.”

“I will tell you something! Jack disappeared two days ago all of a sudden. He was an odd fellow, but perhaps he has really seen something. Compared to the usual nonsense one could almost believe his last tale, which he told before he disappeared.”

“What kind of tale?”

Taking a look around, the Lane Hacker took his gun off Bergander’s back and bent down to retrieve Herfeld’s as well. “I will keep those for a while if you don’t mind. Let’ go. You lead the way. And all others here take a step back! There is nothing to watch!”

Very relieved that the gun had been taken away, Bergander got up. They were not out of danger yet, but the pirate’s manner had changed a lot.

“Do you trust him?” Herfeld asked quietly.

“Let’s just see what he does.”

Three pirates followed them keeping a distance of three steps. Their guns were not drawn anymore, but their hands lay on their holsters. This way it was impossible for the unarmed Rhinelanders to catch them by surprise and they knew it.
“Let’s go to the hangardeck.”

“You don’t really have the foolish intention of kidnapping us, do you?” Herfeld wanted to know.

“We will just have the talk your friend suggested. Your ship will be a fit location for it and space a good place.

Herfeld whispered: “They will almost certainly take us to Mactan Base.”

In the same quiet manner Bergander gave back: “I don’t know what is going to be worse. Flying to Mactan or the fact that it will happen, because three armed pirates are hijacking our ship. Rear Admiral Mengel would jump in triangles if he knew what we are doing here.”

“Shall he. It serves him right. You told me to be patient. Although I definitely dislike your surprises, I got your point. Maybe it will indeed get rewarded.”

Bergander did not reply anything, because the group had reached the hangardeck and stopped in front of the Mule.

“Go on board and tell your man to put the weapon down.”

The fact that the Lane Hackers knew about Hansen waiting told Bergander that hardly anything on station or within this system could remain secret for long. He started to look forward to the talk if the pirates were not too hostile. The thought of the gun in his back still made him shiver.
“Carl, it’s Frederick and me!”

“Who are those outlaws?” Hansen demanded to know.

Bergander did not answer. He went to Hansen and took the gun out of his hand. Hansen resisted, but one exchanged look with Herfeld told him better and the pilot relented.

The Lane Hackers boarded the Mule. They were careful, but when they saw that none of the Rhinelanders was armed, they closed the hatch.

“Launch!”

It took another look, this time exchanged with Bergander until Hansen got up. “What’s our destination?” He sounded not really cheerful, more like someone refusing to obey.

“Mactan.”

“Great. A few more days and we will have seen all damn pirate bases in entire Sirius!”

Hansen’s remark had been mumbled by him, but the pirate leader still caught it up.
“You know…” The outlaw started friendly. “… I can also add a second black eye to your first one if you wish.”

“I think that will be wholly unnecessary. Carl will launch and he will do so immediately!”
It was half an order and indeed the pilot reacted as wished by Bergander.

Soon after that they were in space.
One pirate sat on the seats behind the cockpit and the second one was standing behind Hansen.

“Was that really necessary?”

The question made their leader, who walked around in the cabin inspecting the Rhinelanders’ equipment, turn around. He looked at Bergander who was sitting like Herfeld on the floor guarded by the pirate on the seat.

“Yes. We wanted to know about your real intentions.” The criminal played with the ID cards of the three Rhinelanders, which he had found quickly. “And to be honest it was not secure to stay on Freeport 4. Not for you and not for us. The IMG would have thrown you out and a lot of the people there would have enjoyed killing you. We saved you by escorting you to your ship. You were stupid, Mister Bergander. Only strangers tip the waiter. Someone from the border worlds has no money to spare. He just pays what he has to pay and sometimes not even that. Your accent was also treacherous. When Mister… ah Herfeld asked you about Jack we definitely knew that you are suspicious. Things have ears in the borderworlds and everyone around you will also have. Being informed about everything ensures survival. To be careful is essential. Never trust anyone. Not even those you know.”

“I know about that.” How could Bergander just have forgotten about it? Of course hew knew about the rule that no one in the border worlds gave money to the waiter for the service. Who did so made himself suspicious. He swallowed the critics knowing that he really deserved it.

“What happened to Jack?” Herfeld dared to interfere, changing the topic.

“I got no idea. He just did not come back two days ago. Just disappeared on the way from Freeport 4 to Mactan.”

“Perhaps he just went somewhere else?”

“Mister Bergander, if someone does not come back within two days and is not found either it means that he is dead. Or perhaps he got killed.”

“Who should kill a Lane Hacker?”

Chuckling the pirate replied: “There might be quite a few people who would like to do so. You tried it as well when I threatened Mister Bergander, remember?”

“That’s something entirely different!” Herfeld defended himself.

“I would rather be interested in Jack’s last vision.” Bergander interrupted them. “Or how do you call it? Prophecy perhaps? Or just an old drunken man who tells his tale?”

“It was not a vision. He could not foresee the future either. He just had the slight tendency to mix up reality and imagination…”

“Now that’s a great statement!”

“Go ahead please.” Bergander encouraged him ignoring Herfeld.

Instead the pirate came towards them and looked down on Bergander. He made a gesture including the entire cabin. “You have really been serious about this, right? You want to explore the nebula.”

“Yes. We do. We would just like to get your permission to do it.”

“You want to get our permission before you kill yourself and your men? That’s really unique!”

Ignoring that remark as well, Bergander said: “We want to fly into the nebula and see what we find there. All we need is a bit of help concerning the navigation and your word that none of your men will attack our ship.”

“Goddamn, this guy is really serious.” The guard sitting in front of them remarked.

“We will see what we can do about that. You will be our guests as long as you wish. Our charts only exist in our heads though. I will make sure that some of my experienced men talk to you. We won’t be much of a help I fear, because we have been avoiding for weeks to enter the deeper nebula after many of our ships disappeared. It is very difficult to navigate there. Hardly any flashes of light, certainly no sun, just blue gas around you. Radar ghosts and weird instrument readings are only few of the problems you will encounter. For us there is nothing to gain in it, because there are no ships either. Just empty space.”

“Thank you for your help, but please answer my question. What did Jack say before he disappeared?”

The Lane Hacker sighed. “I wish I had listened better to him, but he mentioned something about a small fleet, which he saw heading into that direction. Three ships if I got him right.”

“Did he mention where they came from and where he exactly saw them?”

“He probably did, but I can’t remember. I told him to shut up about it, because I thought he had been drinking too much again.”

“What about the names and the flag at the bow? Did he see the registration?”

The outlaw paused just a second too long. He looked straight at Herfeld, who had asked the question. At once Bergander realized that the Lane Hacker knew who Herfeld was. “He said they were Asgard ships decloaking in front of him.”

For a moment Bergander thought that Herfeld would faint. He wanted to grab him, but the pirate quickly added: “You can believe it or not. It is very unlikely I believe. And of course it is almost impossible that he saw the registration markings. I am still not entirely sure whether the entire story has not been made up by him just to make travellers at Freeport 4 pay him a drink. Stories about the hidden Asgard fleet still equipped with cloaking devices almost certainly make some people listen to you and pay you a drink. It’s the same feeling you got when someone tells you a ghost story. People want to get scared and they pay for it.”

Bergander wanted to believe him. He definitely wanted to believe that man with his entire being, but one contradiction just came up and again and again in his head, because had there ever been any ghost story in which the storyteller disappeared?

He shuddered and for the first time it occurred to him that this thing could just be too big for them. Despite of all other things, which had happened during the past days, he had regarded it more or less as game. A thing they could stop whenever they wished. Phillip Merx had been hurt, but he had lived and so he had tried to forget about it. But now he realized that they could not stop anymore. The point of no return had been almost reached, if it had not already been crossed.

The Lane Hacker Jack might have gotten a heart attack in space or met the wrong people at the wrong time, but another possibility was that he had simply known too much. Bergander was almost certain that if this had been the case, they also knew too much. Somehow he just wished to get back to Rhineland and forget about the entire matter, but even for that it was too late.




Edited by - [WPIcefox on 3/9/2006 6:23:58 AM

Chapter III

“And you are sure that I cannot convince you to stay here?”

“Thank you for your kindness and your hospitality during the past two days, but we have to carry on.” Bergander answered for their group.

They had needed two days to make the decision whether they would carry on or not. Hansen had forgiven him the incident on Freeport 4 and Herfeld seemed to have gotten off with no more than a fright. Carl Hansen had definitely felt the same way as Bergander did and Herfeld also seemed to think hard about the possible risks.
Fact was that they could perhaps not come back. Remain forever lost in the Magellan nebula far behind the Manchester jumpgate. It was not a nice thought. They had agreed on being very careful and on immediately aborting the mission whenever they encountered a great danger. In fact that was the only thing that could comfort them, because they were scared. They had no idea what they would encounter in the nebula. Even Bergander had secretly thought of Maria Heine’s and Thomas Perthes’ remarks about ghosts. Still he would never admit being frightened because of stories, which parents told their children on long evenings. It was definitely better to stay realistic. Ghosts were just a product of imagination.

The pirates had kept their word. Bergander’s secret fear that the Lane Hackers would play a trick on them by promising to help the Rhinelanders and afterwards take them hostage at their base had not become reality. The pirates did the best they could do to help them. They would even escort them to the coordinates, which they called the ‘point of no return’. Apart from that they had provided them with very many synthetic food pills and alcohol. Water remained a problem like on every station in the border worlds, but the Rhinelanders had enough of it. They would certainly not die of hunger or thirst. One less thing to worry about. Some spare parts for their Mule had also been found in one of the corners of Nome’s large hangardeck. The freighter’s cabin had never been as full as it was right now. The oxygen tanks had been refilled as well. They could last at least two weeks in space, perhaps even longer.

Of course only if nothing happened to them. If they did not encounter a secret fleet, other pirates or if the Mule’s systems did not break down. Just a few possible things that could happen to them. The possibilities were endless. They had of course left a message behind for the Rhineland High Command, which would be delivered if they did not return within one week. If the Lane Hackers could be trusted and really took care of the delivery.

“Good luck. You will need it.” The Lane Hacker looked at them as if he expected to see them for the last time in his life and in theirs.
Bergander tried to suppress the thought about it and gave the signal to board the Mule.

Hansen went into the cockpit, Herfeld and Bergander sat down in the cabin and fastened their seatbelts.
“If there had just been someone whom we could have told about this.”

Herfeld shrugged. “There has been. You forget about the Lane Hackers.”

“No! I rather mean someone else. Told officially, you know.”

A dry laugh was Herfeld’s first answer. “Who would have believed us? They would perhaps even have tried to prevent us from going and declared us insane. After all they don’t like any search being carried out for the Oregon. Many people don’t like our efforts. One thing is for sure though: They also don’t like high ranking officers who fraternize with pirates. They would start to laugh and I can assure you that we would get a first class fight to Vierlande prison.”

Remaining silent, Bergander closed his eyes. Of course his companion was right. They were carrying out a private mission many people would not be happy about if they had known about it. It was not good for Rhineland’s reputation and its relationship to Liberty if high ranking ex-navy officers questioned Liberty’s official statements. Bergander had also become popular in Sirius, although he did not like it. Fact was that they had been guests of the Lane Hackers as well. Especially the latter matter was enough of a reason for any judge to sentence them to several years in prison. Enough facts for a scandal. The media would make a large fuss about it if they ever found out.

For the quarter of an hour both men remained silent until Hansen broke the silence calling from the cockpit: “The Hackers wish us the best of luck! They are leaving.”
The sudden announcement made Bergander’s irrational fear rise again. They had reached the point of no return. In more than one way.

Even Herfeld’s smile was less bright when he looked at his former superior, who just shuddered. It had become colder in the Mule’s cabin. One minute passed. Two minutes passed. Five minutes. The Lane Hackers had probably already gotten out of radar range and left them alone in the deep blue nebula.

If one of the men in the freighter had expected the world to stop turning at once, he got disappointed. Nothing happened. Not right after they crossed the point and not after half an hour. Not even after an hour. No imaginary fleet attacked them and no sudden system failures occured. The only sound was the usual engine noise.

They started to relax again.

“I just want to know what all the fuss is about. Leaving the house for a short stroll around the block could not be easier.” Herfeld even joked.

“We should take things too easy, Frederick. I feel like someone’s out there watching.”

“What?” Herfeld shook his head. “Carl would have told us immediately about anything appearing on the radar. But let’s have a look. I am sure he won’t mind about the company.”

Hesitating for a short moment, Bergander also unfastened his belt and followed Herfeld into the cockpit. They had just gotten in when Hansen turned halfway around and told them: “I just wanted to call you. I think there is something.”

“Something?” Herfeld echoed. “Please define something! As far as I can see the radar is empty!”

“I am talking about that.” Hansen pointed into the nebula. They were not that far out yet, so there still were short flashes of strange light. One of them revealed a large shape in some distance right in front of them.

“What the hell is this?”

“I would say it’s a wreckage.” Hansen deactivated the cruise engine. Carefully he manoeuvred the Mule closer. It was difficult to guess about the exact distances.
When the object had come closer it was clearly visible.

“It’s a ship.” Bergander guessed. “Not a wreckage, but an almost intact ship. What is it doing in here? And why is there no activity?”

“Look, it is not intact.” Hansen had manoeuvred around it and stopped the freighter. “The entire side is torn open.”

“Can you get closer?”

“I can try.” Hansen carefully powered a bit up again, but suddenly they were hit by something.

When Bergander cried out in surprise, Hansen replied calmly: “All right don’t worry. It was just some debris. Our shields are holding. There is a lot of it floating around here and the light could certainly better.”

Shuddering again Bergander said: “Most of them must have died at once. Can you identify it? Perhaps it’s the Oregon.” He felt so much reminded of the war. He had seen such damage before. They had rescued a few sole survivors of the Bretonian battleship Essex. It had looked almost same way. “Perhaps there are survivors on the bridge. Call them please.”

“Are you sure that I shall really open a channel? The ship could have been here for months.”

“Do it. It must be the Oregon, so it has certainly not been here for that long.”

Shrugging, the pilot followed the instruction. “Oregon, this is the Mule right…”

“For god’s sake no!” Herfeld shouted at him and pulled the headset with his good left hand from Hansen’s head.

Quickly Hansen and Bergander exchanged looks before the pilot took his finger from the transmit button, waiting.

“Frederick, what’s wrong with you? Shall I help you back to your seat?” Bergander asked Herfeld. He was horrified, because their mate was sweating, shaking almost uncontrollably. His face looked almost white in the cockpit, his eyes were enlarged.
“What’s wrong with you? Bergander repeated the question after getting no answer to the first one.

Grabbing Hansen’s seat, Herfeld tried to steady himself. He whispered: “The bow. My god the bow!”

It was not the right time for netiquette, so Bergander grabbed Herfeld’s shoulders and started to shake him. “What about the bow? Answer, Frederick!”

“We have to get away from here!”

“Why for heaven’s sake? Man, speak in clear sentences for once!”

Almost fainting, Herfeld extended a shaking hand and directed at the wreckage. “That is not the Oregon. It’s the Hel.”

“Hel?” Bergander was confused. He had never heard about it before.

“The bow… the Hel was damaged in New Tokyo.”

At once, understanding struck Bergander like a hit. “That ship is Asgard?!”

“Yes! And don’t you understand? Whatever got the Hel, it’s going to kill us as well!”

This time, Hansen needed no further instructions. He immediately activated pulled away from the wreckage and activated cruise.

A strange noise in the relative silence of the cockpit caught Bergander’s attention.
It came from the headset, which had been falling on the floor. He picked it up and pressed it to his ear. All he heard was static. When he put it away, his hand was trembling. They had heard those interferences before. With definite certainty he knew that any ship within the Magellan system would head for Freeport 4 right now. All but them.
After one look, taken by chance in direction of the radar screen, Bergander cried out in surprise. There was something. One unidentified signal. And after one second it was gone again. They were in trouble. They definitely were in deep trouble!




Edited by - [WPIcefox on 3/13/2006 4:35:13 PM

“Do you think that we have gotten rid of them?”

“If there were any, probably.” Hansen was still sitting in the pilot’s seat. Bergander stood behind him, observing the radar screen suspiciously.

A wild chase of almost three hours lay behind them. Their radar had shown contacts. Again and again.

“Do you really think that we imagined all this? That our fantasy played a trick on us making us run deep into the nebula without thinking rationally?”

“It makes sense, doesn’t it? I mean we heard so much about ships, which disappeared and we saw that wreckage so we simply freaked out and ran away instead of any rational thought.” Hansen said carefully. “God, I would really like to smoke a cigarette right now although I have given up on it five years ago.”

“You have rather been forced to give up on it, because on Asgard prison stations, there were no cigarettes.”

The pilot even forced a smile. “True.”

“I admit that we could have turned around and looked at it. Running away was irrational, but honestly… would you have been able to turn around and see whether the contacts are real or not?”

“Not more than you, which means no. No, I would not have been able to turn around. I was too scared for it.” Hansen answered honestly.

“So we either ran away from radar ghosts or those ships chasing us were real. If we consider them as being real, what do we do about it? Fly back to Mactan Base and tell our tale like old Jack? Of course only if they don’t find us and don’t kill us before.”

“That’s the question.”

“I think that we should certainly fly back and wait for the end of the interferences. We could make a new start again and definitely tell someone about the Asgard wreckage. You got the coordinates, right?”

“You asked me three times during the past twenty minutes. Of course I got the coordinates. Just like the ones Phillip got from the Westerland’s computer. We wanted to check them out as well. Perhaps people will believe us this time.”

“Perhaps.” Bergander made up his mind. “If you are content with it, plot a course back to Mactan.”

“I am content with it. I will need some time to think about what happened out here. I never lost out before.” Hansen agreed. He seemed troubled.

“Even Frederick lost out. I will go and have a look at him.”

“Good idea. I was really shocked when he pulled the headset off my head and shouted at me.”

“Me too. But as I know him he will have recovered by now and perhaps he got a few answers.” Bergander really hoped so, because things did not make sense anymore. They had come here to search for the Oregon and for indices that the carrier had perhaps joined a secret Asgard fleet. Instead they had apparently found another Asgard carrier, which had disappeared after the war seven months ago and apparently hidden here for some time. Until something had destroyed it. They had not seen very much, but Bergander’s experience told him that the ship had been destroyed in a battle.

But whom had they faced? What kind of fleet had killed the Hel’s crew? Certainly it had not been a fleet from one of the four houses. It took much to kill a carrier. If there had recently been a common effort, they would know about it. People like Hansen and Herfeld would know about it.

One single house like Liberty or Bretonia was too weak for it. Apart from that it could not have remained a secret either if a large fleet had been dispatched into the Magellan system. And why should they send ships into the border worlds at all And then even into the nebula? Too much of a risk. No, the Hel had encountered someone else. Something else rather.

There was only one race, which could easily have destroyed it. The Nomads. A legend. Bergander had not even been born when the war against them had been fought. It was more about forty years ago by now. Had they come back again? Bergander did not know. By now he would even have preferred an entire Asgard fleet decloaking in front of him. He feared even the Asgard less than the nomads. The fear of the unknown and the legends about the cruel aliens were deeply buried in each citizen’s head in entire Sirius. Perhaps it had even been nomads haunting them through the nebula.

Bergander tried hard to forget about these thoughts when he went back into the cabin to see how Herfeld was doing. But before he even got close to him he heard Hansen calling him back. The pilot sounded terrified, instantly causing Bergander’s fear to return. Within ten seconds he was back in the small cockpit.
Hansen looked at him. Even he had become pale.

“What’s… what’s wrong, Carl?” He almost had not managed to speak these words.

“Sebastian, we got a problem!”

“What is it?”

“The computer… I mean the navigation system… we are lost!”

It seemed to him that his legs were giving in at once. His brain just repeated one word over and over: ‘Lost! Lost! Lost!’

“Sebastian… the entire memory is deleted! Empty! The map is blank! It does not even show our former course! Just… nothing!” The terror in Hansen’s voice was almost unbearable for Bergander.

“My god.” was all he could finally say. Without the computer they would never find their way back!


----------------------------------------------------------------------------


“What do we do now?” Bergander asked several hours later.

It had been hours, which had been hard for each of them. They had continued to fly through the nebula. Tried to turn around and fly back. After nine hours nothing had been achieved. They had just gotten deeper into the blue nebula. Finally they had stopped. Everyone had tried to think of a solution where none was to be found.

Hansen had joined him and Herfeld in the cabin. No use in keeping someone in the cockpit. They had turned all systems but the oxygen supply and the heating off. If someone attacked them here, fleeing made no sense without knowing where they were going. They would only get even more lost in the deep blue cloud whose size they could even guess. Apart from that they were tired. Enormously tired.

“I don’t know. I tried my best, but I could not do a reset or load the backup system. Well... I did a reset, but the result was simply the same. No success.” Hansen was devastated. They all were.

“How long do our supplies last?” Herfeld asked the critical question with a quiet voice.

“A month or two in case of the food thanks to the Hackers. The water is more critical. Perhaps more than one week, perhaps less. Depends on what we do with it. I think the Lane Hackers stole some of it. We got plenty of alcohol as replacement though.”

“Great. Maybe we can bear this more easily in drunken state.”

Hansen looked at Herfeld as if he was insane. “Good idea, Frederick. You think it also helps against suffocation?”

“That’s no solution. None of it is. We will neither try to get drunk, nor will we simply give up.”

“How optimistic. I don’t really like to destroy your little tiny dream, but how do you expect us to get back without navigation computer? By chance maybe? Or do you expect help from above? I would rather believe in ghosts. Did you forget that we already tried to get back and probably screwed it up entirely?”

“What do you suggest, Carl? Blowing the ship up? Just finishing it?”

“Why not?”

“But not without a good drink beforehand!” Herfeld protested.

“Now make a point! Both of you!”

Hansen shrugged. “I don’t see any point in going ahead, Sebastian. Wherever we go, we can just lose. The chance to find out of the nebula again without help is less than one percent.”

“What if we use one of the computers to fix it? We got a few days so we could try…” Herfeld made a suggestion, but Hansen immediately shook his head.

“Of course we could get the maps running on one of the other computers, but there is no system, which gives us our position. This part if the nebula is probably not even charted. It means that we have to rely on the ship computer’s memory giving us the course we flew when we got here. We have to turn around and take the opposite way back. Problem is that this memory is screwed. We don’t have a course and it’s useless without it. We are lost in the middle of blue nowhere. It works in case of battle ships, but it does not work with this little freighter.”

Disappointed Herfeld fell silent again.

At once Bergander jumped up and ran into the cockpit. The others looked at each other and followed him.

“You got an idea, Sebastian?” Hansen asked carefully.

Bergander ignored him. He quickly picked up the headset, turned on the radio and listened for a second.” It’s working again!”

Quickly sitting down in the pilot’s seat, he took no notice of Hansen shaking his head and Herfeld’s question: “You don’t think anyone is going to hear us in the middle of nowhere, right? At least no one, who would have the true intention of helping us. The signal definitely won’t be picked up by Mactan or Freeport 4. You will just get us killed, Sebastian.”

This remark made him look up. “You were the one stating that we are going to die anyway. So what’s wrong about it? We either die a few days earlier before we run out of oxygen or we take the little chance we got and try to establish contact if someone is out there. Perhaps they are hostile, but perhaps they are not.”

“The ships having disappeared before don’t indicate any friendly intentions! Goddamn, the Hel’s wreckage out there does not indicate any friendly intentions, right?”

“Look, Frederick, we got to make a decision. I am sorry that you probably knew the people on the Hel, even if they might have been our enemies, but we will die here without help.”

“I also think that Sebastian got a point. There is not much to lose. Just a few days, which will be very uncomfortable anyway. I don’t really like the thought of spending one week or perhaps even more time in this little ship searching for a way out while all odds are against us. We can only gain from it.” Hansen supported Bergander’s suggestion.

“Are you still against it, Frederick?”

“Of course I am!”

“Carl?”

“You heard what I have said. Do it.”

With a deep sigh Bergander nodded. “The majority decides.”

“Do whatever you wish. Get us killed if you wish!” Herfeld turned around and left the cockpit.

Hansen shook his head. “Something’s making him very nervous.”

“Wouldn’t you be nervous if you were in his situation?”

“True. Probably he really knew the people on that carrier and he certainly got one point. Carriers don’t get destroyed by nothing. It’s understandable that he is scared. Just like me and you with the only difference that his personal feelings might affect his ability to think rationally right now. He will come down again.”

“I hope so, but I will feel certainly better if someone was there watching him.”

“I will go and play babysitter unless you want to do it.”

“No thanks. I will see what I can do here. I will call you if there is need for it. After all you are the better pilot.”

“Thanks for the compliment, but the difference between you and me is not that big.”

“Believe me it is.”

“You just have a bad opinion of yourself. It is really not. Good luck in any case. Just one thing: Please choose your words carefully.”

“Okay. For you I will try to be diplomatic before I use our weapons and blast them out of the nebula.”

The pilot even managed to laugh about the joke. “Thank you.”

After Hansen had left Bergander hid his own grin. It had not been a true one. His joke had been a lie and Hansen’s laughter had been false as well. Both of them knew about the dangers and both did not want to show it. Because of that their confidence had only been played.

Thinking carefully without getting an immediate satisfying idea about what to say Bergander took a look around in the cockpit and his view fell on the bottle of whiskey near the pilot’s seat. Some hours ago they had decided to drink the alcohol first and save the water. He definitely did not intend to get drunk, but some help in finding the words could certainly not be wrong. After all alcohol was known for its quality to loosen the tongue.

He took a very deep sip and looked at the nebula. The whisky tasted good. It was an expensive brand, not the cheap one being sold at Freeport 4 and other stations. The Lane Hackers took it from those who had it and had outfitted them with the best they had. Their thanks for the Rhinelanders’ attempt to reveal the nebula’s secrets.

He did not know how long he sat there drinking occasionally from the whiskey until he thought ‘Aww screw it!’ and pushed the transmit button.

“Mayday mayday mayday this is Sebastian Bergander speaking. I am on board of a small Mule freighter lost in the middle of nowhere. With me are Frederick Herfeld and our pilot Carl Hansen. We are alone and civillians. Our navigation system is damaged and we got lost. We are Rhinelanders and have no hostile intentions. Any help would be welcome. My position is… unknown.” He had almost forgotten about their problem and quickly corrected himself.

After repeating the message twice he leaned back and waited for an answer while having a close look at the radar. Had it been full of ships hours before… now it was empty.

How foolish had he been? It had been their last hope, but there was no one here. Not even an enemy. Not even a nomad ship… an unrealistic possibility he had been so scared about hours ago. No help… just death’s emptiness.
Enough reason to drink more whiskey. Herfeld was right. Death was definitely less scary if the alcohol level was high enough.

At once a voice in his head said: ‘Follow the white rabbit.’

He had never seen a rabbit and definitely nothing in the nebula was of white colour, but Bergander stared out of the window. He had seen something on the radar. A dot which had quickly disappeared again, just to reappear at another place after a few seconds. Nothing was outside. No ship. Just the radar signal. The pattern was irregular, the interval not frequent. A radar ghost had come back.

He did not care about whether it was reality or just a dream, he joined the game. He was sure that this was his rabbit and he had nothing else to do anyway. This single dot was not going to kill them. He activated the cruise engines.

It was not very difficult to follow. He did not care about his passengers, did not tell anything about the things going on to the people in the cabin. He did not notice that Hansen had come into the cockpit and that he had left again, tipping one finger on his forehead when coming back to Herfeld.

Sebastian Bergander was flying through the nebula like a madman at full speed. More than once he had thought that he had lost the rabbit. It had just disappeared, because it seemed to be faster than him. But always when he cursed it reappeared somewhere else. Once even behind him. It was circling the freighter like a child dancing around a tree before running ahead again being eager to show him something.

Finally the blip disappeared. Apparently he had reached the destination. Arrived where he should arrive. Just that he did not see a thing. The nebula was blue and deep like everywhere. Perhaps even more than usual. No light. Not even the ship’s landing lights were able to illuminate more than two metres of their way.
He should not have opened the whiskey bottle. He was not really used to drinking alcohol. He had seen an illusion just like pirate Jack. Even worse… he had followed that illusion.

And within the second in which that thought occurred to him the ship was hit by something. The bang was incredibly loud and whatever it had been it made the entire freighter shudder as if it had been hit by a hammer. He heard Hansen and especially Herfeld cry out in surprise and fear. A few seconds afterwards a second hammer came down on them. Same noise, same consequences.

“Shield failed.” They were down to armour. It was after the warning that Bergander managed to stop the ship. A third bang followed. It sounded rather like an explosion and almost tore the old Mule apart.

He sat in the pilot’s seat without daring to move. His heart was pounding fast and he was breathing heavily. Many cockpit instruments blinked red and yellow, but he did not care.

“Holy…” He heard that Hansen lacked the words. When he opened his eyes he recognized the object in front of the ship and knew why. It was a mine, barely illuminated by the ship’s landing lights. A fourth mine, which would have the destroyed the freighter if he had not stopped. He could not do anything else but break out in hysterical laughter.

“Sebastian?” Carl Hansen’s voice seemed to be filled with relief.

“Yes?” Bergander had gotten up and joined the pilot in the cockpit. Herfeld had quickly followed.

“It looks like we are out of the mine field.”

“Finally!” Bergander cried out. It had taken Hansen long hours, because it was impossible for him to turn around or find a safe passage through the mines. Their only possibility had been to advance by slowly bringing the mines to explosion. It always required full shields and therefore took a lot of time.

At first they had been afraid of an attack. After all someone had put mines into the middle of the nebula. They had not spoken very much. Herfeld had not forgiven them that they had decided to send a distress call bringing them just into even more distress and he certainly thought just like Hansen that Bergander was simply drunk and had almost killed them by flying into a mine field.

The radio interferences had started again. Strange voices out of a non-functioning radio definitely did not increase their trust in him. Neither had his confusing talk of white rabbits done so. Hansen had insisted on relieving him.

The worst thing was that Bergander knew that he was drunk, but at the same time also knew that he was right. It had not been chance. Someone had guided him and he was also certain of what they would find on the other side.

“Now have a look at that…”

It was a station. In the middle of nowhere, someone had built up a station. And it was definitely not an alien one. It looked extraordinary concerning its construction, but didn’t many stations in Sirius do so? Hardly any looked like the other.
One thing was certain though. It was old. Very old.

“It has been damaged. Look at the upper half.” Hansen whispered. He seemed deeply shocked, just like Herfeld.

Only Bergander wasn’t. Somehow he had known about it. He would have been surprised if it had been anything else. The only thing that troubled him was that it made things become even more confusing. He was very close to giving up on it. The puzzle did simply not match.
“Can you call them?”

Hansen tried, but after a minute he shook his head. “Just interferences.”

“Look at those guns…” Herfeld was as astonished as Hansen was.

“They are prepared to fight and it looks like they had to fight a lot during the past years.”

“Seems like it. You don’t really want to land on it, do you?” The ex-Asgard addressed Bergander.

“I am afraid we don’t have any other choice. Look, there is something that looks like a large bulkhead. It’s open.”

Hansen quietly powered up again and steered the freighter into the black hole.
“Let’s be careful. There might be vacuum in this section.”

“I definitely won’t be the first one to open the door!” Herfeld announced acidly.

Another bulkhead opened in front of them indicating that the first one had been closed again. “No, I was wrong. There is atmosphere. The instruments register an air pressure of one bar. It looks like the station is inhabited” Apparently Hansen had also thought of nomads during the past long hours. Now he quickly brought the freighter down.

“Well they don’t really look as if they had expected us.”

“To be honest I have to correct myself again… it does not really look as if someone is living here at all. Have a look, there is not a single fighter or freighter here!”
The pilot had brought it to the point. A station in the middle of nowhere hidden in a nebula was one odd thing, but not a single ship on its hangardeck was even more mysterious and even frightening.

“Perhaps they are on some kind of mission.” Herfeld guessed. “Like fighting someone or they are just busy playing radar ghosts lurking people into mine fields.”

Quickly Hansen pushed his elbow into Herfeld’s rips. “That was uncalled for!”

“Leave him, Carl. We should be happy to have some kind of floor under our feet. Maybe if we are lucky we will find some technical spare parts for our navigation system or find at least a clue where we are. And to be honest I think it is a very interesting question why someone built a station in the middle of the Magellan nebula and why it was deserted.”

“If it was deserted.” Bergander stated thinking of his experience in the nebula. “Apart from that someone opened the door for us.”

“It could have been some mechanism or perhaps the bulkhead had a malfunction.” Hansen disagreed.

“It was probably deserted after an attack considering the amount of hull damage.”

“Right, Frederick.” Bergander tried to re-establish the peace within their group.

“So you really suggest that we should open the hatch?” Herfeld asked again when they had assembled in the cabin. “Even without protective clothing?”

“The instruments measured the existence of atmosphere. We won’t need protective clothing.”

“It’s not like we would have some anyway. Remember there was no money left for it.” Carl Hansen interfered.

“Remind me of it.” Herfeld sighed. “If you would be so friendly to open the door and take the lead, Captain…”

The irony in his voice made Bergander wish to apologize, but he did not do it. Instead he took the last steps towards the hatch and opened it. A strange sound made him wonder until he realized that it had been a projectile hitting the hull of the Mule, luckily being distracted by it.

People had assembled around their ship. Human beings, what made him feel relief for a second. At least until he had a closer look at them. The men and women wore ragged clothes and were definitely civilians as far as he could tell. The weapons they had aimed at him were certainly not indicating that they would receive a warm friendly welcome.

“One step closer and your host is dead, Nomad!”

He came to again in complete darkness. He had left the ship and then? His memory was letting him down and his head ached. He tried to move, but felt that he could not do so. Only then he realized that he was bound hand and foot. Even his head was immobilized. Panic washed over him. Nothing else than panic. He shouted for help, but his voice sounded dull being reflected by walls close to him. He felt like being buried alive. A feeling he had last experienced when the Asgard had kidnapped him on New Berlin and brought him to the asteroid miner Royal Arch. It was a trauma he would never forget.

A strange sound close to his ear made him think of being in a head X-ray tube. It sounded like electrical relays clicking and a few seconds later a hammering sound confirmed his assumption. It was a computer tomography which they made. When he had been young, he had injured himself once at the schoolyard. They had taken him to hospital. He had experienced this before. He was not buried alive.

Now it was easier for him to fight the panic. He could not move, but he could control his breath. Trying to relax he focussed on it. One thought troubled him: What had happened to Herfeld and Hansen?

He would probably get to know soon enough. After a sheer endless time the machine was turned off. Silence followed. He heard voices. They were not loud, but he could make out their words. If just his headache would go away!

“Did you find something?”

“Nope. He’s clean like the others. Just panicked in the tube.”

“Apparently I haven’t hit him hard enough then. He shouldn’t be awake yet. Take him into one of the cells. I want to interrogate him now that he is awake.”

Bergander did not hear the reply, because the underground began to move. Slowly he could see light in the darkness until it suddenly fell right into his eyes. It was so bright that he had to close them.

He felt that someone rearranged the ties at his wrists and freed him from the bonds at his ankles.

“You can get up now.”

“Where the hell am I?” After he had heard them talking he knew that they had knocked him out on the hangardeck. It was a good reason for his incredible headache.

“What does it look like then? You can open your eyes by the way.”

It took him a while to get accustomed to the light after he had done so. A woman was looking at him. The first thing he noticed was her brown hair with some grey strands in it. It was somewhat long that it almost reached to her knees. In contrast to her clothes she really seemed to take care of it. He guessed that she was about fifty years old.

“Mind about taking your eyes off me and getting up instead?”

There was no kindness in her words. She meant business. He noticed that she spoke with a familiar accent. “You are from Bretonia, right?”

The way she looked at him made Bergander decide that it was best to really get up. He tried it and would have fallen if she had not reached out and grabbed his bound wrists. The world had started to turn in front of his eyes.

“Slowly, Rhinelander.” She pushed him forward in the direction of the door.

“Why are you behaving like that? I haven’t done anything to you!”

“You have come here. That is enough.”

“What happened to the others?”

“I will not answer any of your questions. You would better go or I will become angry and you do not really wish to see that happen!”

He gave in. Not because he would have been afraid, although he was up to some point, but rather because he had shortly tried to free his hands and realized that he was not able to do so. At least not while he was under surveillance. She did not seem to be armed, but she definitely had the advantage on her side as long as he had his hands bound on his back.

He got a good impression of the station while she was taking him to the so called prison cells. It was not as huge as Dreamland Station in the New Berlin system had been, but it was not much smaller either. Even minus the inaccessible parts of it, there was probably still plenty of space left.

He started to feel a bit better when they had reached the so called cell. It was a small room with nothing else in it than a hard bunk and a bucket. He sat down on the bunk and leaned against the wall. He had the feeling that his head would explode any second. Spirals in at least six different colours danced in front of his eyes. He felt weak and at once he felt the urgent need make use of the bucket. It was his stomach’s late protest against the alcohol, but it made him feel better. He still knelt on the floor when the door opened and two men entered.

A short wave and the younger of them picked up the bucket and left the room.

The second man, who was also older than fifty looked at him and asked with a strange Liberty accent: “What’s your name?”

“Sebastian Bergander.”

“You were born where?”

“Planet New Berlin, Rhineland.”

“The name of your mother?”

“Catherine Bergander.”

“The name of your pilot?”

The question did not match the others, but now Bergander knew which game the man was playing. “Carl Hansen. Look, it’s really unnecessary to…”

“It’s up to me to decide what’s necessary or not. In which sector did the Hessen hide from the Kusari?”

“Omicron Theta.”

“And you were taken prisoner in?”

“Frankfurt and later Manchester.”

“And you hid on which Freeport from the RGD?”

“Freeport 9.”

“The name of the officer calling you back into service?”

“Captain Frank Heller, Commandant of the Westfalen. Do you also want the name of his First Officer or the Lieutenant initiating the mutiny on the Westfalen?”

“No. Certainly not. My apologies, Mister Bergander, but we rarely have guests. Actually you are the first one to come here after six years. We had to be sure. I am Charles Morton. As you would say in the military jargon I am the Station Commander.” The man took a knife out of his belt and sliced through the rope binding his hands.

“I am familiar with this question technique. Catching the possible agent by surprise, right?”

This time the man even smiled. “Yes. It does not matter that much whether the answers are right. Of course they have to be but the way they are given makes the difference. You know about these things because you have been there. Someone who just recites them gets confused easily or has to think hard before. I got to admit though that I am not the best interrogator.”

“And I got a little headache.” Bergander was still confused about the detailed information this man had about him. He needed to talk to Herfeld and Hansen about that.

“Yeah. I admit that I had to hit you on the head, but it was just for your own best.” His former captor just stated.

“Why did you have to make a computer tomography?”

“Because we could not be certain whether you are clean or not. It could have been the case that you have encountered the Nomads.”

“You feared that there was such a thing in my head?”

“Yes, Mister Bergander.” Apologetically the man shrugged. “You have probably seen the damage at the station. It was caused by the Nomads. We have to be prepared for everything and I did not want to endanger the life of my family.”

“Your family?”

“Well… it is not really my family, but you have spent a few years on Dortmund Station. You probably know how I mean it. If you share such a small place with others, you become something like a family whether you want it or not. And here we even became a family, because children were born here on this station. Years ago. Most of them are already adults and they will carry on with our research when we are dead.”

“Your doctor is Bretonian, but you come from Liberty, right?”

“That’s correct. She comes from Planet Leeds while I come from Houston. We also have two Kusari here. Mister Schmitt from Rhineland unfortunately died one year ago. He was 76 years old. Honestly said ID cards and other official documents don’t matter for us. We consider ourselves as being from the borderworlds.”

“What are you doing in the middle of nowhere?”

“Research, Mister Bergander. We are scientists. There are also linguists, engineers and others among us, but most of us are classical scientists like chemists and biologists for example.”

“And what kind of research if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Of course I don’t mind. We are interested in alien technology. We got an incredible number of alien artefacts in our collection. We try to find out what their use is and how we can use them if the Nomads ever attack Sirius again.”

“Why can’t you do that in regular space? Why Magellan? Why the border worlds?” Bergander thought that his head could not really work with all the information he assimilated right now.

“Where should we have built this station? It’s so much about politics in today’s world… Whenever you decide for one of the houses, the others won’t be satisfied with it. Where could all of us work in peace no matter where we once came from? It was the best decision to choose a place where all of us would be foreigners. We decided to build the station in the Magellan nebula. The second reason was of course the risk of a Nomad attack. We have been right.”

“Do they come here regularly?”

“You don’t have to be afraid. They only came two or three times in more than thirty-five years.”

“More than thirty-five years? Wow!”

“We needed more than five years to build the station, Mister Bergander. But the damage you have seen at the station’s hull is more than three years old. There is nothing to worry about. Our guns will keep them at distance.”

“I am really impressed, Mister Morton.”

“You might be even more impressed when you see our artefact collection and our labs. For us this is the ultimate dream of our lives.” The man smiled. “But I got the feeling that you are not interested in science right now. You might have a light concussion and a stomach ache. It’s probably best if Elaine comes and takes care of it. And I will of course show you our guest rooms. Our technicians might need a few days until they got your freighter repaired. You will be our guests. If I may be open I think your ship is almost as old as this station is.”

“You could be right about that. What about Frederick and Carl?”

“They are in the cells next to yours. A quick interrogation of your pilot revealed that you were the one who is responsible for your arrival here. Of course they will be our guests as well. Do you need help getting up?”

“No. I am fine.” This time it really worked to get up.

Satisfied Morton knocked three times on the door and it opened. After a few exchanged words with the man guarding the cells he opened the doors of the rooms in which the others were held. Bergander was relieved and so were the others. Just Herfeld seemed to be thinking about something. After Hansen had been unbound as well, Herfeld who had not been bound because of his broken wrist, gave Bergander a sign that he wanted to talk.

“Later.” was the only answer Bergander could give right now. He started to feel really awful. The last part of the long way his legs even gave in and he had to be supported by the others. He remembered that they brought him into another room with a real bed and that the doctor called Elaine rushed in short time later. After an injection he lost out.





Edited by - [WPIcefox on 4/10/2006 4:31:29 PM

He cried out aloud when he woke up the next time. Sleep faded and with it the memory of a distant nightmare. He had dreamt of Nomads coming out of Asgard heads while he was being trapped and buried alive in a box. He had fought and fought…

The darkness was real. The sweat on his skin also was, same as his heavily pounding heart. He was alive and definitely not trapped in a wooden cargo box.
His fingers felt the soft blanket covering his body. He also realized that he was in some kind of bed. Just where?

Right, he was on the research station in the middle of the Magellan nebula. He remembered the injection the station’s doctor had given him. His head felt better. A bit of pain left and the bandage where he had been hit on the hangardeck. He was still mad at Morton. They could have done it otherwise. If they always treated their guests this way, no wonder why no one came for a visit. Of course apart from the position in the middle of nowhere and the mine field in front of the station which were also good reasons.

He found the switch for the light. A look into the mirror scared him. He looked like a ghost. The room was furnished only with functional things, although this was apparently a room for guests. He definitely did not want to see the rooms of the scientists then. Even this one looked like a quarter on a base. He would have expected a bit more dedication or love.

Anyhow, his watch told him that he had been sleeping for more than thirteen hours, which was a new record. It was time to get up, despite the tiredness, which he still felt. It was time to talk to Hansen and Herfeld.
This secret station was definitely a dead end. They would have to fly back to Mactan Base and start all over again. Still he could not forget about the feeling that he had forgotten about something.

Frederick Herfeld wanted to talk to him. Now he remembered, but that was certainly not the only thing.

He quickly washed, shaved and dressed into a new set of clothes, which someone kindly had retrieved from their freighter. Probably Hansen or Herfeld. They must have been waiting for hours by now. Waiting for him to wake up!
Feeling very bad about this he hurried out of the room and stood on an empty corridor. The station was huge and there were not that many scientists left so that it was unlikely to meet someone here at this time of day. He tried to remember what he had been told yesterday. Ah… right! Herfeld had the room left of his, Hansen the one on the right side.

He made a few steps into the right direction and stopped in front of the door to Herfeld’s room. He heard voices inside and knocked.
The talk subsided.

“Come in!” It was Morton’s voice breaking the silence, not Herfeld’s.

Bergander entered the room and saw that it was indeed the Station Commandant sitting in front of his companion.
“Good morning, Mister Bergander. Probably it is better to say good afternoon, but I hope you feel better right now. We decided to let you sleep as long as you can.”

“I am feeling definitely better and I see that you have already been talking to Frederick.”

“Yes.” Morton said almost apologetically. “You have to know hat we don’t get many news this far out. We haven’t gotten any news for years. People have been bugging me and Elaine about it so I tried to do them a favour. You were asleep so I just had a quick chat with Frederick.”

Something about the first expression on Herfeld’s face had made him suspicious although Bergander had not known what it was. When he had come in he had seen shock. The strange feeling he had increased.
“Mister Morton, would you be angry if I wish to talk alone to Frederick for a moment?”

“Of course not. I will see you later and show you and Mister Hansen around if you wish.”

“That would be nice. I am very keen on seeing how you live here and how many artefacts you collected during the past 35 years.”

“It will be my pleasure to show them to you. See you. And thanks for the update, Frederick. I hope we will find the time to have another chat in near future!”

“I have time and if you do as well I don’t see any problem.” Herfeld replied slowly.

The door shut behind Morton. Bergander waited half a minute and asked then: “You wanted to talk to me, Frederick?”

It took Herfeld a while to meet his eyes. “Yes.”

“What did Morton ask you about?”

“All and nothing.”

“More precisely please.” Bergander demanded.

He still had the feeling that something was wrong, but suddenly Herfeld smiled.
“Could you imagine living on a station in space for more than 35 years? And that even voluntarily just to carry out alien research? It’s incredible, isn’t it?”

“Don’t change the topic. What did he want from you? Did he threaten you?”

“Some borderworld dude? Nah. He wanted to have everything explained. The end of the Great War, the Asgard regime and the past months. It completely went beyond them, Sebastian. These guys are somewhat lost in their own imagination and their own little world here that he would not even know how he could threaten me. Apart from that I could kill him if I wish.”

There it was again the Asgard mentality. Bergander shuddered. So you just sat here and talked?”

“No. I have been up for…” Herfeld took a look at his watch. “… about ten hours. I couldn’t sleep well after all the things, which happened yesterday. Charles shew me a little around. I can imagine now how you must have felt when you set food on Dreamland Station. They even got their own large swimming pool here.”

“A swimming pool? Are you kidding?”

“I am not. I have been swimming a few rounds. Only on my back of course with my hand being wrapped in thick material, but still. It was just great! Their water recycling system works really well. About nothing gets lost. And the biologists got their own garden here. You probably never ate better vegetables.”

“I don’t really feel comfortable here. Something’s wrong.” Now he was sure about it.

“You really think so? I don’t see or feel anything.”

“I don’t know what’s wrong, but I will find out!”

“Sebastian, come down again. Nothing is wrong. These guys are just a little odd. Too much time in solitude I guess. Let’s just enjoy the time here and have fun. They will repair the freighter, Carl might be able to help them and in a few days we just forget about them. They don’t want to be found and we should respect that. We can carry out our search somewhere else or perhaps it is really useless.”

“Why should it be useless? Did you tell Morton why we are here in the nebula?”

“No, I did not tell him about it. I just think that the Xenos in Kepler perhaps did not tell the truth. Perhaps they did not want that we find the wreckage because they want it for themselves. There is much in it they could use. The Liberty fleet probably hasn’t taken everything with them. The fewer people know about the position, the more advantages they gain from it.”

“I don’t believe that. You said yourself that one of them was really scared. Why should he be?”

“Because I told his leader about the Asgard coming back. Even a pirate fears them.”

“I will still continue searching for the Oregon.” Bergander insisted.

“Do so if you wish. I will just tell you what I do now: I will enjoy myself and go swimming!”

“Have fun then.”

Already leaving Herfeld turned once around: “By the way if you wonder, Sebastian. I was a little scared when you came in because Morton just told me that the ship’s repair might take more than one week. You know that the Lane Hackers deliver the message if we don’t show up again within one week. Of course I told him that they should give their best, but he was not really convinced of it. It might be that we are stuck here for at least two weeks. I was a bit worried about that. After all you are famous. It won’t be good for us and especially not good for you if news spread in Sirius about the nature of our operation here in Magellan. We simply didn’t expect anything like this to happen.” With these words he really left.

Bergander went back to his own quarters. He was lost deeply in thoughts, but not about their possibly delayed return to Mactan and the consequences resulting from it. Even Hansen, who had slept for more than ten hours as well and later started to help repairing their ship, could not cheer him up. The pilot had of course asked him to join a guided tour, but Bergander did not really feel like looking at alien artefacts right now.
It was the same feeling, which he had had yesterday when he had heard the voice on the radio. Others called him crazy, but he knew he wasn’t. Something was foul here. He could almost smell it.

The next morning Bergander woke up feeling as tired as the day before. This night there had been a strange dream. He had dreamt that someone had come into this room, but there had not been anyone. It was a very strange thing indeed.

It became even stranger though when he got up and took notice of a piece of paper, which was on the small table standing next to his bed. There were just a few words written on it: “Meet me at the swimming pool at 1 p.m. s.t. It’s urgent. Come alone and destroy this note!”

S.t. probably meant station time. They had changed the time on their watches.
There was no signature below it the message. Only the instruction to destroy the sheet of paper. Without further thinking, Bergander tore it into very small pieces and put them into the toilet, flushing it afterwards. The water made it very unlikely that anyone would be able to put the pieces together again.

1 p.m. He took a look at his watch. It was 1230. He better hurried.

After he was done it had become 1245. Right before he left he noticed that he had forgotten something. Usually people went to the swimming pool to go swimming. If he went there without towel and some kind of suiting cloth, he would make himself very suspicious. In desperate haste he searched for these things and left. On the corridor he bumped into Herfeld, who just wanted to knock at his door.

“Ouch! You are really in a hurry, Sebastian!”

“Ah…” Bergander was out of words. Herfeld’s eyes fell on the towel in his hand.
“You are going to swim a few rounds? That’s really good idea. I just noticed yesterday how quickly one loses muscle mass when being on a battleship without doing proper training. Mind if I join you? I will just get my stuff and wrap my bandaged hand into plastic.”

“Eh… of course not.” One look at his watch revealed that there were only ten minutes left.” Of course it would be better if he had someone showing him the way, but the stranger who had written the note wanted him to come alone. On the other hand Bergander trusted Herfeld and even if he had not there was no good reason to go alone swimming. The stranger had picked an unfortunate place for their urgent meeting. Perhaps it was still possible to talk or they could quickly arrange a new place and a new time.

Herfeld left and came back with his things after a while. He seemed to be in good spirits and told Bergander about the progress Hansen and the technicians made. He also talked about the research projects he had seen.
“Imagine… just a large map. They made it entirely alone. It must be from the time when the Nomads tried to gain control over Sirius and it includes all places where artefacts have been found by the scientists. There must be hundreds if not thousands of crosses and signatures in it, each standing for a single artefact and Morton knows almost all of them! He has been… Are you listening, Sebastian?”

They had reached the swimming hall. Herfeld had not exaggerated. It was really large. And it was empty.” Bergander’s watch showed 1303. Perhaps he or she had left again. Perhaps there was another message.

Suddenly he heard Herfeld cry out and just saw him run towards the pool. That was the moment when he already knew that something was wrong. He watched Herfeld jump into the pool in his entire clothing. Bergander had seen it too. There was something floating in the water. He knew what it was. And probably also who it was. Only when he suddenly realized that Herfeld had a broken wrist and would not manage it alone, he jumped in as well. He had been too shocked to do so immediately.
Together they dragged the body to the brink of the pool and Bergander lifted him up.
Immediately Herfeld turned the body around until it lay on the back. It was a man who was perhaps in the middle of his forties, wearing nothing but Bermuda shorts. He was not a pretty sight. Both Rhinelanders stared at him for a few moments, until Bergander had recovered from his shock.
“I will go and get the doctor! Take care of him!”

“No need, Sebastian!” Herfeld held him back.

“But…”

“Look at his face. His skin already slightly bloated. He died at least two hours ago. Probably he had a heart attack or something and just drowned.”

For a second Bergander was about to tell him everything. Tell Herfeld about the note and everything else, but then he remembered the content. ‘Come alone’ had been written on it. He had not come alone, but he was happy that he had not done so. Herfeld’s astonishment and the reaction had not been a fake. The man had simply jumped into the pool to rescue the man’s life and that even with a broken hand. Just like Bergander had done if he had seen the body first. Herfeld had been faster and the surprise in his face was real. He had completely forgotten about his broken wrist.

Here they were, water dipping from their clothes, staring at a man who lay in front of their feet. Dead.

“I will go and tell someone about it. Stay here, Sebastian.”
Herfeld took his towel putting it around himself and left, leaving Bergander shivering behind. It had become cold in the large swimming hall. Water was running down his body and dropping on the floor, forming a small lake. He did not care.

Again he stared at the dead man. He could not prevent himself from thinking that this guy had wanted to warn him. Now he was dead. Murdered. Murdered without that he could have told Bergander about the danger. Sebastian Bergander had hardly ever felt so lonely in his life.

There had always been someone whom he could have told about something like this, but here on this station there wasn’t. The pilot Carl Hansen was not really someone whom Bergander would consider as being a friend. Just like Herfeld. He did not know them long enough to trust them entirely. Hansen was here because Bergander had been a close friend of his former Captain Will Reaburn. It was Reaburn’s friend, but not Bergander’s. And Herfeld was here because of him, but too much divided them. And even more important: Yesterday in his room, Herfeld had not told him the entire truth.

In the chilly air, Bergander waited alone for the others. Alone with the dead man. He felt as if someone was observing him, but when he turned around, no one was there.

-----------------------------------------------


“…You were still young, Simon, but the best ones always die young. I hope that you will rest in peace and be one with the stars until the day comes when the dead arise at God’s judgement day. We will be missing you, my friend. We won’t forget you until the day comes when all of us will be reunited. Amen.”
Charles Morton’s speech was serious and he had tears in his eyes.

“Amen.” All others repeated. There were maybe two hundred of them, not more. They put down flowers on the coffin. Finally four of them loaded it into the Mule.
Morton had told Bergander yesterday that their presence on the Nomad Research Station, which was the station’s exact name, gave the inhabitants the possibility to give the 44 year-old chemist Simon Clayton a funeral in space. Carl Hansen would fly the freighter.

As soon as he ship had disappeared through the first bulkhead, most of the people started to leave. For Bergander and Herfeld it was almost unbelievable. On any navy ship everyone would have remained on the hangar deck and stood at attention until the coffin rested in space. Only after the radio call of the pilot responsible for that people would start to leave.

The Rhinelanders looked at each other and Herfeld lifted an eyebrow. “Other systems, other customs.”

“I guess so. Shall we wait for Carl?”

“Sure. Why not? I am really eager to get to know whether the navigation system works again.” After they had found the body in the swimming hall, not even Herfeld had really felt much pleasure while exploring the station’s further attractions.

“It was a good piece of work after just four days.” Bergander said as they walked towards a few boxes being stored on the hangardeck and sat down on them.

“Let’s be honest, it has taken them almost five.” Herfeld corrected.

“At least it’s done. We will be gone in less than one day after the great dinner today evening.”

“Don’t remind me of that. Do you hold your speech or do I have to prepare one as well?”

Bergander shrugged. “I think it can’t be wrong if you say a few words as well. Mister Morton likes you a lot.”

“I was already afraid that you would say something like that. All right, I will hold a farewell speech as well. Couldn’t say though that I would be keen on meeting anyone here again.”

“Why not, Mister Herfeld?” A female voice asked quietly from behind.

Bergander laughed hard as his companion almost fell off the box. He quickly became serious again though when he heard her say: “Anyway… it doesn’t really matter, does it? Don’t turn around. I am not here you know.”

“And who are you? A speaking box?” Herfeld joked.

“It doesn’t matter who I am. I am from Bretonia. Secret Service if you understand.”

“You are from…” Now she had definitely gotten Bergander as well.

“Right. We don’t have much time. What happened to Simon was no accident. His real name wasn’t Simon Clayton anyway. Job risk. They probably have cameras and micros in your rooms.”

Completely stunned the Rhinelanders listened.
“Clayton was an agent as well?”

”Yes, but none of our agents. One of yours rather.”

“What? He came from Rhineland?”

“I think so. We don’t talk about such things you know. I would not even be allowed to talk to you if I would not have to get back to Bretonia.”

“We shall take you along?”

“You are really quick today, Mister Bergander. No wonder though. It might come from the drugs you know.”

“Drugs? Cameras? Micros? Are you sure that you aren’t paranoid or something?”

“Being paranoid belongs to my job. Let me worry about that please, Mister Herfeld. In fact you haven’t been here for five days, but for eight days. A slight difference, isn’t it?”

“God! Why?!”

“Because they are not certain what they should do. In their eyes you should not have come here, but here you are. Just in time.”

“Why should we trust you, Miss?”

“Because Clayton is dead and I will be as well if I stay. The reason why we are here is important. The message we have to deliver to Bretonia or in his case Rhineland is important. Very important. More important than his or even my life. More important than yours as well. We must leave soon. In fact we must leave right now when your pilot comes back with the ship. If you leave by tomorrow morning it will be too late for me. And perhaps too late for you. Maybe they decide that they can’t let you go again!”

The roar of engines in the silence made any further communication impossible. In Bergander’ head thoughts went around uncontrollable. Should they believe her? It confirmed his own guess that something was very wrong here, but how much could they really trust her? She was working for Bretonia’s secret service and after the Great War, Bergander had definitely had enough of agents for his entire life. Linda had been one of them. He had lost her because of it. It was one of so many things in his life that had gone wrong. Agents always worked in their own interest. Only in their own interest. It could be dangerous to let her board the ship. And it did not suit him to leave without a goodbye. On the other hand had their hosts really been friendly? If only half of it was true, they had not been. The quicker they got away, the better it was.

‘What would you do right now, Linda?’ Bergander asked her in his thoughts. There was only one answer. Linda Klange would have gone for it. She would have taken the risk and if Simon Clayton had really died for Rhineland, she would have launched and asked later why.

The noise of the engines calmed down. Hansen had seen them and brought the Mule down close to them.

A strange noise behind the boxes made them look at each other and this time both of them started at the same time.

Behind the boxes she lay. She was blonde, wore the clothes of a technician and was not much older than Bergander. And she was dieing. A shot had hit her right into the back not far away from the heart. Red blisters appeared on her lips. She held a bag in her shivering hand, which Herfeld retrieved before she lacked the power to keep it.

Bergander tried to help her and put her head on his leg.

“Go! You can’t help me!” New blisters appeared and she coughed. “Please! Go to Bretonia! Not to Liberty!”

“Why? Why not Liberty?!” It seemed important to know it. It was strange, because right now another bullet hit one of the wooden boxes. Still Bergander had no fear. She was the key. If it meant that he died as well, he did not fear it right now.

“The ships… have been… here.” It seemed like the last word had sucked the last power out of her. Her eyes shew nothing more than emptiness. Death’s emptiness, which means eternity.

Her head fell down to the floor when Herfeld pulled him rude on his feet in direction of the Mule, giving him the bag she had entrusted them with.

Hansen was waiting by the door. He took cover nearby the entrance when further shots rang out. Suddenly Herfeld cried out in pain and broke down. Bergander did not care about him, because he could not. Not right now. The bag was important. Two people had already died for it, perhaps three. He could care later about Herfeld. If there was any later.

Seven metres… an enormous distance. He tried not to think about it. Just the open door. Right ahead of him. The sniper now fired at him. He was carrying the bag. It felt as if he was carrying her life. She had entrusted him with her life. He was not allowed to lose it!

Three metres.

Two and a half.

He felt the sudden pain when it hit him. Just like seven years ago when he had tried with the others to destroy the Hessen. His left leg gave in. He was falling. The bag had to get to Bretonia. With all the remaining power he could summon he threw it into the direction of the Mule.

“Carl, launch! Head for Bretonia!” Bergander shouted as loud as he could. He knew what Hansen probably thought right now. He added the only thing that could probably change the pilot’s mind. “That’s an order!”

A loud bang when the hatch was closed. Bullets… bullets flying over his head. The ping of metal touching metal. He was hit again, this time into the shoulder. Probably a ricochet from the ship’s hull. A sudden incredible roar that made him almost deaf. The freighter’s engines. With sensation Bergander listened to the silence that followed. Hansen had gotten away. The bag had gotten away. He felt peace calming him. Incredible peace. The pain was not as bad as seven years ago or perhaps one could even get used to it.

The floor was cool. He put his head down, enjoying the coolness and waited.

Waited for the headshot. That’s how the Asgard had done it on the Rügen. He was not really scared. Only his mind was racing.

The agent who lay dead not too far away from them had talked about micros and cameras. So that was how they had gotten Simon Clayton. It meant that they had seen him putting the notice into Bergander’s room, read it and even left it there for him to find. They had wanted Bergander to find him! Perhaps they had even changed the content of the note as well. Plus two or three hours. Or the man had simply been two or three hours in the water, because they had really mixed sleeping drugs into the Rhinelander’s food and probably even adjusted their watches. Without a planet close by, the inner body clock could get confused easily. Hadn’t Hansen and Herfeld mentioned extraordinary long sleeping times as well? Asking Herfeld about it right now forbade itself of course.

In any case the people on Nomad Research Station were suspicious. Someone had murdered the nameless Bretonian agent. Someone had murdered the Rhineland agent whose cover name had been Simon Clayton. A killer was among the 200 people on this station. Why?

The woman’s last words had been about ships.
‘Which ships?’ It was the same question all over again. He did not know the answer.

The dead agent had been Bretonian. Her message had been urgent. Very urgent and worth that she had gotten killed for it. Why should she have been in a hurry if the Bretonians knew about this station and had dispatched a ship to come here as well? Her behaviour and her haste indicated that she rather wanted to tell her superiors in Bretonia about something. The ships for example. So there only remained the three other houses, the Nomad and the Asgard.

Rhineland could be excluded. Herfeld would have known if any ship had been dispatched to Magellan. Simon Clayton had been murdered as well. The Nomad threat was also nothing he seriously took into account. So there were Liberty and Kusari plus the Asgard left. This one was a real dead end.

Leaving the even more dreading question why the ships had been here at all aside, he thought that more than one person on station had probably known about the ships. Not every section of a station had windows, but it was same way like on a battleship: Someone saw something and two hours later the entire ship new about it. So not only the killer had known about the ships, but also all other people here on station.

Simon Clayton… it was not a Rhineland name. Morton had mentioned something about the only Rhinelander having died one year ago aged 76. Apparently he had not known about Clayton’s true identity. Clayton was definitely an English name.

All of Morton’s talk about them being a family was a fake. They had proven to be a very strange family to say the least. Their tale of having lived on this station for the last thirty-five years as well. They had had contact to the outer world. Ships had come here. Perhaps these people really were researchers. After all some really were technicians for example. They had repaired their Mule and that even quite well within five or eight days, depending on whether he believed his watch or the Bretonian agent. He rather believed the Bretonian after what had happened.

Hopefully the technicians had not mounted some kind of explosion device or something like that into the freighter. The agent had said that the people here had considered killing them. Hansen had no clue about what had been going on and there had been no time to explain anything of it. He had just reacted the right way and followed a direct order given by his former superior. He had taken off and left them behind.

So if Morton and the others were researchers, what was their real interest? Bergander did not believe in the explanation of chemists, biologists and some people like linguists, which he had been given by Morton. Artefacts from the Nomads and other aliens were certainly not their true field of work. It was just cover. It would also explain the huge number of them, which had impressed Herfeld so much. Bergander decided to do Morton the favour and have a look at the collection once. If they survived this. The pain he felt made it almost impossible to believe that. Nothing good to think of. It was better to stay optimistic.

‘Try to focus on the problem!’
At least the imagination of a large artefact transport would explain why someone had sent battleships. If it had not been battleships, Bergander would have thought of a pirate attack. Good artefacts were worth thousands lot of credits, some even millions and if only half of Herfeld’s statement was true, there could be millions or even billions stored right here at Nomad Research Station. Millions… just for cover. Perhaps billions just for cover. No wonder that Morton was proud of it. But what in hell’s name was worth more than millions or billions of credits?

He thought hard, but he could not find any possible solution. Just one thought occurred to him. What if someone planned to start a new war? Perhaps this was the Asgard’s Dreamland and these ships had gotten their cloaking devices mounted?

No, he shook his head, deeply lost in thoughts. That had been a false thought. The station was old. Perhaps even forty years or older. Just the mines in the field around it were newer. There also existed some new and strong kind of radio jamming device in Magellan and Bergander was almost sure that it could be found right here at the so called Nomad Research Station. This station perhaps was a secret testing ground for technical innovations, but it was certainly no yard. Dreamland had been a yard. The Alien Research Station was none. No cloaking devices. Maybe Asgard, but no cloaking devices.

He was disappointed. The solution seemed to be so close, but he did not see it. He was too blind to see it. All he and Herfeld could do was try to survive and wait for Hansen’s return, and he would hopefully be accompanied by a large fleet or something.

If the pilot ever returned. Bergander did not like to think about that. If it had been Henning Sorsa, who flew the Mule, he would be certain of it. But Carl Hansen? He did not really know Hansen. He was a good and experienced pilot, but in this case luck was needed. It was the same kind of luck some people thought Bergander had. Whatever happened, he survived somehow. Sorsa had always been lucky as well. Even on his last flight he had been. He had met his future wife Alina and he had survived. The question was whether Hansen would be as lucky as Sorsa or not. If not they would never hear of him again.

Or perhaps the pirates in Magellan would do something. Take the report to Rhineland space. They were already delayed. The week was over. It was time for the Lane Hackers to act. Maybe Rhineland would get an investigation going, although Bergander did not really dare to hope.

He sighed. He knew that he had forgotten about something. About something very important. If just the pain had not been real. The killer took a lot of time to do his job or he perhaps did not want to do it. Bergander still felt blood trickle down his leg. It was not a good thing to think about. He tried to focus back on this station and even managed to do so until black silence embraced him at some point.




Edited by - [WPIcefox on 4/29/2006 12:31:03 PM

The memory of sleep faded. Bergander heard voices. He struggled to wake up and open his eyes.

“He is coming to.” stated a loud male voice close to his ear.

“Thank you, doctor. I see it.” He had the feeling to know the slightly sarcastic voice.

“Sir, we can get ready to leave in about half an hour.”

“Do so, Lieutenant!”

“Yes, Sir.”

Finally Bergander managed to open his eyes. His view was blurry and he almost instantly shut them again, but people had taken notice of it.

A hand touched his own for a moment. “Mister Bergander, this is Commander Shelby speaking. Do not worry. This is the med bay of the Bretonian Navy cruiser Belfast. We have come to pick you up from the Nomad Research Station.”
Against all protest of his tired body, he opened the eyes again, but still did not manage to keep them open.

“Mister Bergander, can you understand me?”

“I would really suggest that you let him collect his senses again before you try to talk to him.”

“If I want to hear your advice, I will ask for it, Mister Herfeld.” The Bretonian voice had a definite icy undertone in it. Dan Shelby’s normal conversational tone. At least when Sebastian Bergander was in the room. Apparently he considered Herfeld to be Bergander’s friend. That way the other Rhinelander also got his share of Shelby’s special kindness, which he had reserved during the past years for his former superior’s friends. Ironically Herfeld was anything else but not Dale Baxter’s friend. Just Sebastian Bergander had been on Dortmund Station.

Apart from that Commander Dan Shelby’s only problem seemed to be that he met an equal counterpart in this matter, because Frederick Herfeld was also not the one to give in easily and he had quite a few resentments against certain Bretonians as well. “You may not care about my advice, but I do not have to listen to your orders either. You are supposed to take us back to Bretonia. Not more. That does not really include bothering a wounded man recovering from the his injuries and the influence of the drugs he has been given!” was therefore the answer Shelby got from him.

“I know my orders perfectly. Still you are both on board of the Belfast and I am the Captain of this vessel. I decide what is good or not. Lieutenant Commander Greenstreet, our doctor, told me that Mister Bergander is not in any serious condition. Do you want to say that you know more about medicine than him?”

Shelby made a pause until he continued in an even more hostile voice: “Apart from that I think that I would like to know about the letter we have found in his shoulder bandage. The one you tried to snatch away.”

“I never tried anything like that! I wanted to keep it for him to prevent you from reading it!”

“The letter was not addressed to Mister Bergander, so I took the liberty of opening it.”

“This forms an intrusion in his private sphere!”

“Mister Herfeld, you do not seriously wish to tell me that it is normal to find envelopes in wound bandages, right?”

“I only wish to say that the fact that this letter was found in his bandage is quite a form of addressing! You took it away and opened it!”

“And I closed it again after I recognized that it is personal. While we are at it: This talk will be personal as well. If you would please have the kindness to leave this room!”

“You should remember that I was imprisoned with Sebastian, Commander. I got the same drugs like him and I flew here with him before Bretonia and Rhineland even cared about it. I think that we should ask him whether I shall leave or not.”

“I was imprisoned with Mister Bergander for a far longer time than you. Actually during the time which you spent somewhere else than on a prison station if you understand the hint. I know about you. I have been questioned recently about the Westerland’s arrival in Bretonia. I also was on the Cardiff a few years back. So will you please go? This matter concerns only Mister Bergander and me. It is very personal.”

Silence followed, only broken by the sound of the door. Commander Dan Shelby had won. The facts had spoken for him.

“Mister Bergander?” This time the Bretonian’s tone lacked all sarcasm and bitterness and even hate, which it had included before. It was softer than it had ever been during the past years in which they had often argued.

Bergander did him the favour. He had only caught up half of the argument, but the final part he had understood almost completely. It had been the time he had needed to gather his strength and fight the nausea ness and the tiredness. His head still felt strange, but he did not care about it.

The first glance told him about an infusion needle in his arm. Nothing new either. It was really a sick bay. His skin was very pale. No wonder that Herfeld had worried about him. Probably the Bretonians also had with the exception of the Commander. They had never liked each other. And now Dan Shelby sat next to his bed on a chair and started being friendly. That was quite scary.

“You wanted to talk to me, Dan?” Bergander made the start. It was probably a good time to forgive. Bury the old conflicts. He was tired of all the distrust. Vaguely he remembered about things, which he would have to tell Shelby soon. Important things. It was better to be open.

Shelby avoided his eyes. He looked at the blanket and Bergander’s hands on it. On his lab he had an envelope. Probably the one he and Herfeld had argued about. Maybe the reason why Shelby was here looking somewhat uncomfortable?
Better to find out immediately. “Please give me the letter, Dan.”

Now it came, the straight look into his eyes. There were various feelings expressed in it. Open feelings for a Bretonian. He had seen it before. The last time had been on Planet Cambridge when he had been in hospital. Whatever the letter’s content was, it had affected Commander Dan Shelby as well. The short look contained the pain of own remembrance, uneasiness, sadness and sympathy.

“I am sorry, Sebastian.” were the only words, when Shelby handed him the paper.
It did not matter much to Bergander that the grey envelope had already been opened. Now he knew what to expect. The choice of the quiet words and the use of his first name made finally clear that someone had died. The look had indicated it, the words confirmed it.

He noticed that his hands were trembling when he took the sheet out and started to read. Alone the handwriting made something inside him cry out in pain and he groaned silently. Feeling Dan Shelby’s hand suddenly on his uninjured shoulder, he could do nothing but start to read:


“2nd of March 3231,

Dear Sebastian,
In absolute knowledge that you have probably still not forgiven me, I write this letter to you. I do not know where you are right now. Dale did not know about it either. I hope you are doing well and that you have found back to life. I know it has been difficult for you and it also was for me.
I just wanted to tell you with these few lines that you are right. Just like always. From the first moment we have met, you have always known what is right and what is wrong. Sebastian Bergander always knew. Unfortunately I do not know about these things. I miss your guidance, although I refused to accept it in the moment when I needed it most. What you said was right. You did not want me to rejoin the navy and especially not the Liberty Navy. We argued about that and our friendship broke. I admit that I was fed up with you making all the decisions. On Dortmund Station it was you again who became Dale’s right hand. You. Not me. It was always everything about you.
I was hurt because of the loss of Bettina and the Rügen and we have stopped talking about things years ago. Unfortunately I could not refuse to accept the most tempting offer I ever received. I think I also accepted it because I wanted to step out of your shadow. I wanted to forget about the Rügen disaster and make a new beginning.
As I am writing right now, I am Executive Officer on the carrier Oregon. It is a huge ship compared to the Hessen and the Rügen. I achieved what I wanted. I have taken responsibility, but I am paying the price for it. I sacrificed our friendship to my own career and I just realized during the past months how much I really lost. How much we really lost.
Being without you on a ship is difficult and I can assure you that my life on the Oregon is like hell. I miss you every single second. I still could have quit it and I do not have any clue why I did not do so. Maybe it was again my foolish pride. Now it is too late.
Because of that I just wanted to let you know that I regret the angry words that have fallen between us. I would take all of them back right now if I could, but I cannot.
To be honest I am not even allowed to write this, but a kind person helped me when I was in trouble and I asked him to do me the favour and send this letter with the next ship back to Liberty space from where it will hopefully reach you wherever you may be. I can only guess. Perhaps it is Rhineland, but probably just some station in a godforsaken system like this. I know you. You probably have stuck to your pride and did not rejoin the forces. I should have done so as well. I should have kept Rhineland’s citizenship and we should have talked about things. With these lines I want to beg your forgiveness and wish you the best of luck for your future. It would give me very much comfort if I knew that you forgave me as well, but that is impossible. Tomorrow we are leaving to an unknown destination. Probably I will not come back. No one of us will.
Farewell, I am glad that I was allowed to go a short part of your way with you.
In eternal friendship and deepest admiration,
Lieutenant Commander W. R., Liberty Navy Forces”


He read the letter once, he read it twice and even a third time. Everything else was forgotten. He did not even notice that he was crying. All the attempts of self-betrayal and the walls he had build up around himself during the past months were destroyed at once. He had tried to believe that he could forget their friendship. Wipe seven years away like nothing. Erase them from his memory. Erase Will Reaburn from his memory. And now he found out that he could not. Now that it was too late.

Will Reaburn had been writing about foolish pride, but what should Bergander say of it? He could have written to Reaburn just like Dale Baxter had said. At the time when he had been at New London, it had already been too late, but he could have done so before. Of course life on the Oregon had been hell for Reaburn! The crew was former Asgard. The captain was former Asgard. That it was Jason Hart whom Reaburn knew as well, probably only made it worse. The Asgard had murdered Reaburn’s entire crew with Hansen’s exception.

Bergander was certain that Reaburn would have quit immediately if he had visited or written and forgiven him. His only reason to stay had been pride. He could not have stood failing again and tried to make it against all odds. To prove himself and his friend that he was able to make it.

Bergander knew exactly what he held in his hands. It was a farewell letter. Reaburn had known that he would not come back. He knew that no one of them would come back. The Oregon had just perished and with her the entire crew, including his friend. More than five weeks ago! That was why the Bretonian was here. Dan Shelby knew Will Reaburn as well from Dortmund Station.

Finally he could not bear the pain anymore. It was not the caused by his wounds, but the pain in his soul. This was the only memory, which remained of seven years friendship, although the argument had really been predictable two years ago. Even Bergander had noticed on Dortmund Station that Reaburn had retracted from him. He had though that it had been because of the loss of Betting Richter on the Rügen. Now he knew better. It had been because of him.

“I am really sorry, Sebastian.” Shelby repeated again after a long while. Even he seemed barely able to control his feelings. “I do not really know what to say, but everyone who has been on Dortmund will keep him in mind as a good man. I hope very much that he is now united with the woman he loved.”

Sobbing aloud. Bergander wanted to tell him to go, but he could not say these words. He could not say anything. He was overwhelmed by feelings he had tried to forget. It was after such a long time again the sudden experience of a loss of a loved person. A very close friend, perhaps one of the closest ones, who had been left after the war and the regime. That they had argued in the end only made it worse. The Oregon was gone. Will Reaburn was gone. Forever.

The letter was yet the proof for another thing. A part of Bergander’s mind analysed it clearly. One of the ships coming to this sector and this station had been the Oregon. The station therefore belonged to Liberty.

Feeling the Bretonian’s hand still on his shoulder, because Shelby still tried to comfort him and perhaps also himself, Bergander steadied himself and forced a smile, which probably failed entirely. “Would you please leave me alone?”

“Of course.” Shelby got up and stopped at the door. “I know that it is not really much comfort, but hence we are both naval officers… the report says that they died quickly. All of them died within less than a second.”

It was indeed no comfort at all, but Bergander nodded quietly. He acknowledged Shelby’s attempt to make him feel better, although that was impossible. “He just should not have been there, Dan.”

The Bretonian had almost left the room, but he stood still like frozen on behalf of Bergander’s rough silent voice. “What do you mean?”

“He was not on the crew list. Dale visited me on Cambridge in hospital and said that he made some people in the Liberty Navy immediately check for his name. How could it be that the Executive Officer is not on the list? The people from Dortmund surely knew his name! They would probably have called Dale even before the news about the accident were broadcasted!”

Staring at him, Shelby shook his head and closed the door. Bergander leaned back in bed and closed his eyes. Will Reaburn was dead.


Edited by - [WPIcefox on 5/6/2006 3:09:48 PM

“Mister Bergander?” Dan Shelby’s voice. Again the man was waking him up. Apparently the Bretonian had found back to his formal behaviour.

Only having the wish to be left alone Bergander reluctantly opened his eyes and looked at the Commander. He had been dozing, unable to fall really back into sleep.

“I am sorry, because I know it is hard for you, but we have examined the Oregon’s crew list as it was released with the accident report. You were right. Will is not on it. The person on the list probably does not exist. I will send a report with the next delivery freighter back to Bretonia. The secret service shall check it out. Meanwhile I got to ask you a few questions. I already talked to Mister Herfeld, but not for too long.” Noticing Bergander’s horrified facial expression, Shelby went hurriedly on: “Just a few things concerning your stay on the Nomad Research Station. After that I promise that we will leave and fly back to Bretonia, from where you will get a transit flight back to Rhineland. A medical transport Humpback with escort is already waiting in the Manchester system. So please, may I start?”

After a weak nod, the Bretonian came up with the first question: “What did those people on station tell you? Or rather: what did you find out about them?”

Pulling himself together, Bergander stated: “Not too much. They claim to be researchers from all houses trying to find a way to fight the Nomads.”

Listening carefully, Shelby nodded. “So they told us and that is also what Mister Herfeld said. Apart from a shuttle crew being sent to pick you up no one was permitted to land on station. It was also requested that they come unarmed and leave again immediately. I would have enjoyed talking a bit longer to Mister Morton, but he did not let me. You got any clue why?”

“Did they also tell you their tale about them living for about 35 years here?”

“Yes and I must admit that it sounds quite amazing. They just requested some fresh supplies and even paid for it. But please answer to my question.”

“You already got an answer. It might be even more amazing for you that they haven’t been living here for 35 years.”

The Belfast’s young commanding officer did not get it immediately. He needed about two seconds until he understood and another one to get his emotions under control again. “You will have to explain that to me.”

“There is not much to be explained. You have read the letter. It’s the key.”

Probably Shelby thought that Bergander was confused. Again he did not understand and decided to get up. “Pardon. You might not feel well. I should not be here. Lieutenant Commander Greenstreet told me that you need rest.”

“You think that I brought the letter here, right? Probably even that I am crazy and make up something?”

Reluctantly Shelby nodded. “The first part of it is true. It is very suspicious and I want to know why you hid it from the people on station. I am sorry that I read it. I did not know that is personal.”

“It doesn’t matter, Dan. Not right now. Just let me tell you: I did not bring it here. I did not hide it. You have seen my reaction. Do you really think that I made this up? I have seen it for the first time when you gave it to me. The letter has been here before we came. It was, because it has been written on the Nomad Research Station!”

“Will should have been here? Why?!”

“Because the Oregon was here. It was the reason why we have come here. We tried to find out about the Oregon and stumbled over this station! When we arrived people started to die. They were agents. Agents from our houses. Probably Will gave the letter to one of the Kusari on this station with the request to hand it to someone landing on the station and later returning to one of the houses.”

“That is a grave accusation you are making here. Nothing in the letter supports it. Apart from the fact of course that there has been enough time from the 2nd of March to the public announcement of the accident occurrence for the ship to return to Liberty and jump into the Kepler system.”

Bergander would really have given a lot for being able to get up from the bed. “Will could not have written anything like that in the letter. He could not even dare to guess how many people would read it until it reaches me. Fact is that he was here and that other ships were here as well!”

“Other ships? What should they have done here?”

“Perhaps they accompanied the Oregon on her last voyage!” Bergander gave angrily back, but then his anger faded in a single second. He had remembered something.

“There is no other ship being missed.”

Not even hearing Shelby, Bergander whispered. “My god… Jack! You were right! How could we have been somewhat blind?”

“Who in hell’s name is Jack?” The Commander started to get even more annoyed.

“He’s a Lane Hacker whom we met on Freeport 4 during the manoeuvre. We went to Freeport 4 first when we came here a few days ago! He was gone… disappeared. He has seen the Oregon and he has seen three ships before he disappeared! Probably a destroyer and a cruiser plus another ship! Three ships! Frederick and Carl have seen two of them in California near the Willard Research Station! We wondered about it.”

“You don’t really have trust into a pirate’s words, right?”

“Dan!” Bergander almost shouted it. “They only saw two ships: a destroyer and a cruiser! One was missing!”

“Now tell me why three Liberty ships would secretly fly to Magellan and why one would stay alone behind.”

“Probably for the same reason why Bretonia sent you here, Dan. A single ship is expendable. It took the same way the Oregon took. The other ships escorted it. Probably all of them knew as well that they would not see each other again. The others could have given the crew even the last escort!”

“Bretonia does not regard the Belfast as being expendable! There are 200 crewmembers serving on this ship and it is definitely not expendable! I can assure you that it is definitely not. Your fantasy is playing a trick on you, Mister Bergander. We are here, because we found this station after almost two weeks of search. I do not see any reason to believe any of your tales. You have probably dreamt all this conspiracy stuff because of the drugs they have given to you.”

“Doesn’t it seem very suspicious that those scientists felt urgent need to give us drugs at all? You have to stay here, Dan! Something happened in this system and it might happen again! The station is the key!”

Shelby headed for the door. “You cannot change my decision. There is no reason for us to stay. We will leave and fly back to Bretonia.”

“Wait, Dan!” Bergander tried to get up. “You are making a fault!”

“Lieutenant Commander!” Shelby called out. “He is not clear in mind. Give him a sedative or he will hurt himself!”

The door opened and Greenstreet quickly came with an assistant to Bergander’s bed. While the assistant tried to hold the Rhinelander down, the doctor prepared an injection. Shelby was watching, too bewildered to leave.

“Listen once to me! I am clear in mind! Remember what you said to me a few minutes ago! The Oregon’s crew list is a complete fake! Something is wrong here!” Desperately he tried to prevent Greenstreet from giving him the injection. “Dan! Please! The station might belong to Liberty!”

With two large steps Shelby was at Bergander’s bed and grabbed Greenstreet’s hand. “Wait a minute, doctor!” The Belfast’s commanding officer examined him as if he was trying to make up his mind whether Bergander was kidding or not. “Do know what you are saying? It would mean that the station is run by Liberty personnel!”

Bergander had calmed down again. “I know that for sake! Liberty is playing false. The artefacts might have been brought here. The Oregon’s crew list is not the right one and the accident did simply not occur. Something else happened to the ship and before that it has been here. Here at the Nomad Research Station, which is probably a secret research lab for weapon technology. For example they have a working communication jamming system. You have to stay here and investigate. They say that they do not belong to any of the four houses. Use that and deploy some crew members to have the station searched. Interrogate Charles Morton. I am certain that it is not his real name!”

“We have not had any problems with our communication system on our way here. Apart from that I will not do anything right now. I have to tell my superiors about this. Just let me tell you one thing: If you just made this up because you refuse to accept that Will has died in an accident before you two could end your argument, I will never again exchange a single word with you.”

That remark hurt, although Bergander was not really keen on talking to Dan Shelby either. He fought for calmness. “I did not make anything up, Dan. My and Frederick’s gun wounds are real, aren’t they? Carl Hansen left some time ago with our freighter. He had an important bag with him. Papers or other proof, which was collected by an agent of your secret service. She died in my arms and we got shot when we tried to reach the freighter. Didn’t he arrive in Bretonia?”

“I do not know anything about a freighter, but I wish you to stop calling me Dan. We are not on Dortmund Station!”

Bergander did not reply. He had his answer. Carl Hansen was dead. They had gotten him. Grief washed over Bergander. The agent’s work had been lost as well. She had died for nothing.

After a short goodbye, which Bergander did not really hear, Shelby quickly left the room. The Bretonian had a few reports to write and a lot to think about.
Greenstreet, the medical officer asked: “Can we do anything for you?”
No one could do anything for him, so Bergander shook his head. “No. Thank you. Could you just please leave me alone for a while?”

“Of course. But please don’t try to get up again.” Greenstreet pointed at the syringe. “Do you want that one? It contains a sedative. Perhaps it will be easier for you then to fall asleep.”

“Thanks, but I don’t need it. I have been sleeping long enough.”

“If you need anything just call.”

He managed to keep his poker face up until they were gone. Then he leaned back and pressed his face into the cushion, while the tears ran down his face.

‘I am sorry about everything, Will.’ was the main thought running again and again through his head. First Will Reaburn and now Carl Hansen.

After a long while he must have fallen asleep again despite of all his worry and sadness. It had brought relief, but not for long. Someone was there shaking him. The room’s lights were still turned off. The Bretonians had done it.

“Sebastian!”

He recognized Herfeld’s voice. “What are you doing here? Why didn’t you let me sleep?”

“I came here, because they simply let you sleep. I don’t know what they have given to you at the Nomad Research Station, but you missed something.”

Bergander just accepted it as genuine. Accepted that Herfeld had somehow come here again, even with a bullet wound in his leg and a broken hand. He also accepted the news without being interested in them. Right now, he would have accepted everything. The Bretonians were leaving the Nomad Research Station. He heard the ship’s engines.

“Leave me alone!”

“No! I won’t! Listen, Sebastian… you have been asleep for long. Something was going wrong on the station. They were giving us strong medicaments. We thought that only ten days or so have passed, but remember what the agent told us on the hangardeck? While we thought about five days, it were eight. She was right! Afterwards they even kept us asleep for seventeen days! We were more than three weeks on that station without even knowing it!”

“I already know it and don’t care about it, Frederick. Please go and leave me alone.”

“You have to care about it! I know that you feel grief because of Carl, but it’s not necessary! He’s alive!”

Now he had gotten at Bergander. While he stared at him in disbelief, Herfeld repeated: “He’s alive, Sebastian.”

“Did he come back from Rhineland?” Bergander asked relieved.

“No, but the Bretonians have changed their minds. They want to stay here for some reason. I can only guess, but a fighter arrived with news and orders from Bretonia. It’s the only way to keep the contact up. The pilot immediately went to see the captain and suddenly we started to move!”

“That probably means that we are flying back. You are wrong.”

“I am not! Lieutenant Commander Greenstreet told me about a delay of our return. Apparently they are still not certain what they shall do and still holding a meeting about it, but the Doc said that we are no prisoners anymore and there is no word about taking us to Rhineland for trial. The captain sent him down here and instructed him to immediately tell us about it. It seems that the political situation has changed. Our private mission seems not illegal and wrong anymore, but to be welcome. I can only guess of course, but Carl must have gotten through. He delivered the bag to Bretonia or perhaps even Rhineland, just like you ordered him to do. There can’t be any other possible reason for him to change his mind! Look! They stopped the engines. Commander Shelby just wanted to get out of the minefield.”

“I don’t know what I shall think of that, Frederick.” In fact Bergander really did not know. The Belfast had really stopped again. His dominating feeling besides the sadness was relief. Perhaps now there would be an investigation. Carl Hansen was perhaps really alive and Bergander would finally find out about Will Reaburn. That was a good feeling. The only feeling, which could provide any comfort right now and lessen the anger he felt about his own behaviour. It was the only cure of his pain. Will Reaburn was dead, but Bergander as his friend would now hopefully find out why he died.

“I only hope that…”

“Crewmembers, please stop for a second to listen. This is the captain speaking.” Shelby’s voice came without warning out of the room’s speakers.
“…We have received new orders. I know that many of you looked forward to returning home after two weeks in this system and I heard about dissatisfaction because of this major search and rescue operation just for two foreign officers, but our mission has been important. It has been more important than anyone of us knew. More important than our High Command knew. I do not know much more than this: Information of extreme importance has reached our house and caused a diplomatical crisis between Bretonia and Liberty. Right now our prime minister and Rhineland’s chancellor are on the way to Planet Manhattan to either solve the crisis…” Shelby made a short break before he went ahead:
“I have decided in accordance with our new orders to be prepared for everything. The Scotland and its escort are on their way in case that we need any support. It is unlikely that we hear earlier than tomorrow about the result of the talks between our house and Liberty. I heard that chancellor Wessels wants to mediate to ensure a peaceful solution of this crisis. Still I have the ordered to get prepared for combat. I do not expect this to be necessary, but I do not know more than you and our sensor efficiency could be better. We will therefore keep this position close to the mine field until we receive further orders and information about the result. Thank you for your attention.”

Speechless no one of the Rhinelanders even dared to move.

Finally the pain in his shoulder became almost unbearable and reminded Bergander of the injury. He had sat up half in bed and the bed frame pressed against the bandages. When he moved in pain to improve his position, Herfeld had recovered from the first shock and begun: “You know that I really don’t like this pause in the middle of his announcement?”

“Me neither. And I don’t like the ‘or-part’, which he left out.” Again Bergander wished to be able to get up, but it was unnecessary.

The door opened after less than five minutes and Commander Shelby came in, switching on the light. “Good that you are awake, Captain.” The Bretonian tried hard, but he was not a perfect actor.

Bergander knew that Shelby had not told the entire truth. “Take a seat if you wish. We just wondered about your speech.”

“There is not much to wonder about. I just stated the facts. The question is what we do with it, right now. It’s good that you are here as well, Lieutenant Commander.” Shelby made a nervous gesture, which only Bergander saw. He knew the Bretonian for long enough. “You regard yourself as being back in service. Forget about your dismissal and the investigation. You shall report back on the Westerland. Until that you will remain as guests on the Belfast. Your ship was repaired during the past four weeks and will be taken back into service. You shall assume command again and make the transfer back to Rhineland as soon as possible. Your orders await you on the yard.”

Exchanging a surprised look with Herfeld, Bergander asked carefully: “What about the diplomatical crisis between Bretonia and Liberty? Do you know any details about it?”

Shelby made a sound, which came closest to sarcastic laughter. “The crisis has a name and that one is Carl Hansen.”

“I told you about it, Sebastian! He made it!” Herfeld smiled for a second until he remembered the rest.

“Yes, he made it.” Shelby confirmed, but he was totally serious, his face even expressing sudden regret and anger. “He made it right to New London, where his ship disappeared in the tradelane between Canterbury Station and Planet New London. That happened four days ago.”

“Disappeared in the tradelane?” Bergander repeated horrified.
The Bretonian sighed. “Yes. He entered it and did not come out on the other side. That’s how I mean it. You are a pilot yourself, Captain Bergander. You know that tradelanes can be manipulated and interrupted.”

“Someone must have attacked him.”

“No. Probably worse. There are indices that there were foreign ships operating in our central system. Our forces have immediately started a major investigation. Fighters examined the entire tradelane and found debris of at least two ships. Parts of it were retrieved and taken to one of our labs on New London. One of the ships definitely was a freighter, the second a fighter.” Shelby looked straight into Bergander’s eyes. “The fighter was most probably a Defender. The scientists are ninety percent sure of it. It suits the report written by a pilot of a police patrol, consisting of three ships, which were on a mission close to New London. They were attacked by Mollys, resulting in him being the only survivor. He saw a group of five ships entering the asteroid field. He swore an oath that they were Defenders. A closer examination of the debris of Hansen’s ship revealed that the escape pod was missing. Same goes for the Defender he destroyed.”
Quietly, Shelby finished: “The Dublin jumphole is in the asteroid field. Dublin, Leeds, Magellan, California. The order makes sense. They destroyed his ship and they abducted him. Right in New London. Our government cannot let that happen. The fighters were entering our territory without permission and they did not even contact us. Their behaviour is an act of piracy in the middle of Bretonian space. It is an illegal act of intrusion, an acute breach of the treaties between the houses and a major act of hostility.”

“My god… they got the bag…”

“And probably they killed him as well. Remember Jack’s fate. They take well care of all witnesses.” Herfeld addressed Shelby: “We better leave as long as we still can.”

The Bretonian shook his head. “We cannot. My orders give me almost free hand what I can do until the reinforcement arrives. Then I will also receive further orders. The only direct order has been to stay here for so long. Apart from that I suggest that we use the time and have a look at the station again. We just changed our position, because I wanted to be prepared for any case. Fighting with a station and a mine field close by is not exactly what I like. Captain Bergander, I just had a talk to Lieutenant Berkley. He is our chief engineer. He voiced the opinion that if there really exists a communication jamming system being able to block the communication in the entire sector, it requires a lot of energy to keep it running. If it exists, it will really be on the station unless this sector offers further surprises. I want to have a look at it. What do you think about that?”

Shelby’s words had been an offer of peace. He had seriously considered the Rhinelander’s words and talked to his chief technician. Probably the crisis had caught him by total surprise and made him therefore reconsider every single word they had spoken.
Bergander knew the Bretonian good enough to know how much it had cost the younger Shelby to do so and therefore acknowledge the possibility that his former enemy could be right. “That would be a good idea, Commander. I would gladly join, but…”

“I think you better stay here. My men will know what to search for. We got about forty soldiers on board and enough technicians. Perhaps 60 people will be sufficient so that each technician will be escorted by two soldiers. I will dispatch two of our Clydesdales escorted by a few Crusaders back under the command of my First Officer. If there is something, she will find it.”

Just like weeks ago the look in Herfeld’s eyes was nothing Bergander liked. And again the emotion disappeared just after a moment. He knew though that there was no other way. They had to find out.

Shelby wanted to go again, but Bergander called him back: “Commander, please look for signs whether the ships were really here or not.”

“That’s not necessary anymore. Part of the crisis is that some very important data has reached Bretonia yesterday. They disks were not entirely examined yet, because it was just too much, but one thing is certain. The carrier Oregon has indeed been here. I have received a warning. The Nomad Research Station seems to belong indeed to Liberty. Also one of the main things we want to find out about.” Shelby bid on his lip and looked down. “You were right about that part as well. I am sorry for not believing you, Captain Bergander.” With these words he left.

Both Rhinelanders stared at the door. Things had definitely developed quicker than he would have guessed, but the consequences of it were indeed severe. He was so lost in his thoughts that he did not see how Herfeld got slowly up using the help of a crutch.

When he had left, Bergander stared blankly at the wall and listened to the intercom calling pilots, technicians and soldiers to the hangardeck and falling silent again after that, something came into his mind. It was a thought or rather just a few words Shelby had casually spoken. The Bretonian had said: ‘unless this sectors offers any further surprises.’

Bergander had just found the missing link. He knew what he had forgotten before. He knew what he had forgotten before they had kept him in some kind of solitary confinement by pumping large amounts of a sleep drug into his body.

The missing piece in the puzzle. The Hel. The carrier wreckage they had seen close to the entrance of the nebula. They had not taken so much notice of it, but it was the key. One secret the people on the research station would defend with their lives. And not only them. If he was right, the scientists had support. The white rabbit’s support and the support of its mates. Why hadn’t he known? He had been drunk, but it had been real. They had been here all the time and that could mean one thing. The Belfast was going to be in real trouble!

“Hey! Help!” It was the only thing he could do right now. “Help!”

He shouted until the door burst open. It was not Greenstreet, but one of his assistants, who was looking bewildered at Bergander.
“Do you need…”

“Go to the bridge! Tell Shelby to abort! He shall call the freighters back for Christ’s sake!”

“I am not entitled to follow your…”

“Go! Don’t ask why, just go!” He still shouted the words, but it did not matter to him. He could apologize later if they survived this.

The crewmember apparently decided that there could be some truth in it and ran.
When all of a sudden the intercom called the rest of the pilots to their fighters and all crewmembers on their battle stations, he knew that he had been too late. The ship’s engines brought full power. His entire bed vibrated because it was the ship itself moving. The rabbits had shown themselves.

‘They have been here all the time!’ was his only thought when the first missiles or even torpedoes hit the ship. He clawed at his bed frame with one hand and grabbed his blanket with the other. It felt better to have something in his hands. He closed his eyes. This was not a new experience. He had been in other battles before, but being a passenger not even seeing things on the bridge really got at him. It drove him mad. Even the Dreamland battle, which he had observed as prisoner on the Yukon had been better than this. In that one he had at least been on the bridge!

Again they were hit. The ship shuddered. Probably the Belfast was down to armour. Not to know what was going on really made him become insane. He felt like a cripple, unable to get up, unable to help. Unable to flee from his fate.

The ship was not his. Commander Dan Shelby had experience. He had been Second Officer on the York until the ship had been seized by Liberty during the Great War. After that he had served on the Cardiff. The Bretonian knew how to command a ship, but sometimes experience was not enough. The odds were against them. He knew even without being on the bridge. He would not even have needed the ship’s strange behaviour and the noise of the hull’s tortured metal to know about it.

The Bretonians were running and the strange steering indicated that they avoided the torpedoes, but it made no sense. Nothing made sense anymore. Running in a nebula without any support or even radio contact to the reinforcement made no sense. They were about a day away from Bretonia. At least. Steering a battleship through the nebula took a lot longer than crossing the same distance in a smaller ship like a freighter or a fighter. No one would hear their distress call. They would take care of that to make sure that the Scotland and her escort would run into the same trap like the Belfast. No chance to warn them, no chance to get away.
‘At least Dale is not on the Scotland anymore.’ This thought improved things a bit.
Soon he would see Will Reaburn again. Will Reaburn and Linda Klange. All the others who had died during the past eight years.

Whether Dale Baxter would start a similar inquiry and investigation like Bergander had done? The Rhinelander had come here to find out about strange things happening in Magellan. He had found the farewell letter of his best friend. Things had become personal after that. Hopefully at least his other friend would stay far away from this bloody system!
The war had begun.

Without any warning he felt himself becoming lighter for a moment. It was only a second. That was how death looked like. Then he felt as if he was torn apart. Endless never-ending pain in all its varieties. He wanted to cry out. It did not end, but only increased the longer it took. He tried to cry louder, because it became sheer unbearable. Finally death came. The pain ended.

Chapter V


“Help me! Quick!”

“Where does this blood come from? His face and shirt are a mess!”

“That is just his shoulder. It looks worse than it is. Now help me! Give me another compress!”

Pain. A memory of pain. And even more of it. Pain in his entire body. Every single muscle seemed to burn. He still thought that he was light. Light like a feather floating in the air on a sunny day. A good thought of being dead. If just the pain would be gone. Dead people like him were not supposed to feel any pain.

“Here! Aah.”

“Thanks. Do not move so fast. It will hurt less if you do it in a slower manner.”

“I know. I just wanted to know what the hell happened.”

“I cannot even guess whether anyone here knows about it. I certainly do not. Give me the bandage.”

The pain of something being pressed on his burning shoulder made Bergander cry out and open his eyes. He saw a man in the barely illuminated darkness around him. A man in uniform who was floating next to him in some kind of light. It was funny. He wanted to laugh. He saw an angel. An angel wearing a bloody uniform having a blood-soaked rag in his hand.
Then the pain came back. He turned his head and wanted to protest, but then he saw the other man. No angel. Just Lieutenant Commander Alexander Greenstreet and at once he remembered a few things. His brain was not really functioning properly.

He winced in pain until the Bretonian had fixed the bandage on his shoulder.
Bergander waited until at least this kind of pain had faded and asked after a groan: “Why are you floating?”

“Because you are floating as well. Gravity is gone. The energy is gone. We are weightless.” Greenstreet answered patiently after his dumb question.

The Lieutenant Commander’s face also expressed pain. It made the small lines in his face appear deeper, his eyes seemed bigger. The small headlamp the doctor and his assistant had brought with them did not hide the fact that there was fear in both their faces. A crack in the Bretonians’ almost never-ending calmness.
Probably he should be scared as well if they were, but he could not really think properly. He tried to collect his memories and fit them together. They had been in Magellan and someone had attacked them. And then? There had just been pain.
“What about the enemy?”

“I got no idea. Here you got another small lamp. We have to see what’s wrong with the others. You better stay here. We will be next-door.” Greenstreet gestured towards the half open door. It was at the opposite end of the room, but almost upside down. It was such an unusual sight that he just looked at it for a while. Doors were not supposed to be upside down. Said otherwise: He was not supposed to be upside down. The room’s interior was everywhere around. His blanket was in a corner of the room… just right below the former ceiling! It made him shake his head. Of course he had experienced system failures like this one before, but he had been held almost every time by some kind of seatbelt. And even more important: It had never lasted longer than a minute or two.

The skills, shown in the movements of the Bretonians when they floated with their gear towards the door proved that they had been weightless for a while. They disappeared.

Probably there were other people to take care of and probably they could use any hand they could get. It was not like if he felt like superman, but necessity made him forget about his own problems or their instructions. They had come to help him although they were in pain too. Something had happened to the ship and it had affected all crewmembers as it seemed. They had also experienced the pain.
He almost felt as if this was not really the Belfast. There was no sound of whatever kind. No life support, no engine sound, no electricity, no heating, no light. For a navy officer like him that was a very bad sign. A dead ship usually meant that the crew had not much time left either.

He could only hope that the two meds and he were not the only survivors. He tried to turn around somehow. The slightest movement made him feel like burning. He pressed his teeth together and continued. His arm touched something. The light they had left for him. He turned it on and finally stretched his legs at once, a thing he should really not have done.

His last training session in the weightlessness simulator had taken place years ago. More than nine years ago, when he had been promoted to Lieutenant Commander. Definitely too long ago. A shame for the entire Rineland military. They should have sent him in when they had taken him back into service six weeks ago, but right now there was no use in thinking about it.

After having underestimated his own speed and terribly hurt himself while crashing against the wall, he went ahead as soon as the pain was gone. More careful this time. He had heard something crack in his forearm and he definitely did not want to know what it was.
“Lieutenant Commander?”

“I am here. In the next room on the left!”

Bergander needed some time to get there, but he made it.

Frederick Herfeld, whose room it was, was alive and awake as well. He looked at Bergander, even managed to smile weakly and pointed at Greenstreet, who was putting a new bandage around his broken arm.

“Shouldn’t you take care of the others?” Bergander asked the Bretonian, ignoring Herfeld.

“Which others?”

“The people who got injured in the battle.”

“There were no injuries. Only three people came here. The time was too short I guess. Two of them are dead by now. Petty Officer Verholme takes care of the other.”

“God! What about the other members of your personnel?”

“They were on their way to the bridge when happened whatever did happen.”

“What about the bridge?!”

Greenstreet just shrugged. “Someone called from the middle deck telling that the upper deck has taken a hit. Probably a direct one.” His voice only told the facts, but it did not reveal his true feelings. Greenstreet had almost certainly known all members of the crew. They had been his colleagues and perhaps his friends. No one knew how many of them were still alive.

“****!” Bergander lowered his head for a second. Dan Shelby was most probably among the dead. They had not been friends, but they had accepted each other’s knowledge and skills. Dan Shelby had saved his life and the ones of the others who were here with him. Still Bergander had to carry on. Take care of the others. So far they were five. Five out of how many? If Shelby’s words were true, there must have been about two hundred on the ship. Two hundred minus sixty. Sixty or perhaps even more who had died in the Clydesdales and Crusaders while trying to reach the Nomad Research Station to carry out the investigation. The investigation he had suggested and agreed upon! He should have known better. Counted one and one together. Now they were dead. His fault. The cloaked ship had gotten them. The ship into which Liberty had mounted the cloaking device they had retrieved from the destroyed Asgard carrier Hel.

“Is there anyone alive in here?” A loud female voice yelled from the corridor.

“Yes! We are five. Three in here and two at the other end of the med!” Greenstreet shouted back.

It took merely half a minute and a bright light appeared at the door. The Bretonian navy apparently had a better training for its officers.

After a quick examination the bright light was directed at the wall. “Lieutenant Commander, you are needed literally everywhere! Lieutenant Berkley has assumed command so far, I mean unless…”

“Calm down before you speak. Take a deep breath.” Greenstreet quickly finished his work on Herfeld’s arm and headed for the wall then with its shelves.

“Sir, pardon. The Lieutenant has ordered some technicians to go to the machine room to try to reactivate our life support systems and the gravity. We got injured people everywhere! The quarter deck can be accessed, but there are at least thirty people including a few officers. Whatever hit the ship, it kicked the Belfast around like a football. We do not have contact with the hangar deck and there is no answer from the bridge either. Only a damage control team is trapped on the upper deck close to the bridge. They say that there is vacuum on the other side! Lieutenant Berkley and a few others are currently trying to examine the damage. Apparently there are several hull breaches. The Lieutenant ordered me to look for further survivors. Sir, I…”

Greenstreet did not turn around. He just ordered: “Lieutenant Scott, please show the two gentlemen the way to the emergency bridge. Petty Officer Verholme and I will be on our way fairly soon.”

For a second even Bergander was surprised.

“Lieutenant Commander?” Herfeld asked. He also seemed stunned.

“It is probably the place where you are needed most. You are both injured and Captain Bergander lost quite an amount of blood. You have to be careful. Someone has to coordinate everything. You can do that best from the emergency bridge.”

When Scott made for the door, Herfeld called: “We will find the way, Lieutenant. Better help Doctor Greenstreet and his assistant. It might be wisest to assemble all injured people somewhere. The quarters will probably be a good place for now.”

“Correct.” Greenstreet agreed. He seemed to be busy equipping his emergency kit with additional bandages and other things.

Herfeld signalled Bergander to follow him and pulled himself towards the door past Lieutenant Scott. Trying to catch up with him, Bergander asked a short while later: “They are not really doing this, right?”

“You are really advancing in command, Sebastian. First the Westerland and now the Belfast and that within less than two months.”

“Keep your jokes for yourself, Frederick!” Bergander complained.

“I am not really joking. This is real. Do you really think that a doctor could assume command of a battleship? Please come down to reality!”

“Well, Scott talked about a few other officers and there is also Lieutenant Berkley…”

“A Sub-Lieutenant like Scott is also an officer. If the other officers were in really good health or experienced enough, Berkley would not have assumed command. He is an engineer. You do not really expect the Lieutenant to be able to navigate and command this ship either, right?!”

“I do not expect anything, but I am wounded and not familiar with this ship. I quit the navy and intended to decline the offer of joining the forces again! Not another time after what happened on the Oder Yard a few weeks ago!”

Herfeld halted and shot back in pure annoyance: “And you really think that someone is interested in this? You did apparently not listen to Commander Shelby. He stated that you are again Captain of the Westerland. Besides I do not see any possibility to decline. You might not have noticed it yet, but there is a war going on between Bretonia and… whomever! Possibly Rhineland might be joining. There is no possibility to quit! And now let me tell you one final thing: I am sorry about what happened to your friend on the Oregon, but he is dead! Accept that or not, but life goes on! There might be a hundred people on this ship who need you. You and your experience!”

Bergander disagreed aloud and floated towards Herfeld pinning him against the wall. “Why don’t you do it then?! You know the ship and the systems better anyway. You can command it if that is what you are after. But I give you one advice: Never, I repeat, never tell me how I shall do my job! This is not my war! This is not my ship!”

“It is your ship because you are currently the freaking highest ranking officer on it!” Herfeld held against it. “Your grief is good and nice, but you really have to look forward! Your dead friend…”

Grabbing his collar, Bergander almost shouted: “Don’t you dare talking bad about him! He was experiencing hell on earth on this goddamn freaking carrier and he died for it. You do not understand about my grief. You do not understand ****!”
Leaving Herfeld where he was, Bergander continued his way.

After a while the second Rhinelander took the lead again. It was not far anymore. One advantage of weightlessness was certainly that Bergander did not have to worry about the wound at his leg.

Still without saying a word Herfeld opened the bulkhead leading to the emergency bridge in the center of the ship and finally pointed towards one of the consoles while pulling himself to another. “That is the navigation. You better sit down and I take care of the rest. First I will see whether I can get power from the emergency system.” Nothing in his professional tone told about the arguement they just had.
Acknowledging it with a single nod Bergander pulled himself on the seat and fastened the belt. It felt good to be able to keep a certain position although the belt cut in his legs and belly. Quickly trying to find out about their situation, Bergander stared at the empty black screen, which should show the Magellan nebula.
He did not really take notice of Herfeld’s quick actions, but at once red light illuminated the room and finally two technicians in dirty work clothing appeared and helped as well.
Just because of the way one of them was addressed by the other, Bergander could figure that the man with traces of oil and dirt in face and his short black curly hair was an officer.

“Now that should help!” After the technician’s final announcement the lights on the bridge went on. Herfeld acknowledged it and worked on one of the consoles. The second crewman had already left again and the officer was also about to drag himself through the bulkhead when Bergander’s startled cry reached him and made him turn halfway around.

The screen had come back to life, but Bergander could not really believe what it was showing. The image was not complete, because apparently some of the cameras within the ship’s hull did not work, but those which did, shew an image that was both scary and alarming at the same time. It was nothing they would have expected.

“Christ…” It was finally the Bretonian, who broke the silence.

“It does not really look like Magellan, does it?” Bergander asked no one in particular.

“If that is Magellan I will eat one of my shoes.” Herfeld announced. “Where the f*** is the nebula?!”

Taking a look at the radar, Bergander shook his head. They had cameras showing empty space and a few distant stars, but they certainly had no radar image.

“You can switch between the different cameras. The switches on the top of the console.” Herfeld told him quietly.

The Bretonian had apparently decided against leaving and moved towards one of the other consoles. He said: “The navigation antennas might be ripped off or damaged otherwise. Currently the internal communication does not work otherwise I would let one of my men check the system indications. They are currently all but two working on the life support systems and the gravity. The other two I sent to the upper deck where the damage control team is trapped.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant.” Bergander gave back. He was still distracted by the image on the screen. It just couldn’t be. They had been in Magellan or was his memory playing a trick on him? After an endless time he managed to switch to another set of cameras. The first attempt brought no result but a black screen, but the second one lead not only to him crying out but also to a sudden cry of surprise from Herfeld and a strange noise from the young Bretonian.

For a second no one of them even dared to move. Even Bergander could almost not accept it although he saw it. There was something in space. Something big rather. A black shape, which covered most of the stars in the background apart from a few at the bottom. That clearly indicated that the cameras were working properly.

It was Herfeld who finally spoke out aloud what Bergander thought. “Whatever this is, we have rammed it. That explains the hull breaches quite well. A miracle that the hull did not give in entirely.”
He started to head towards the damage control console, but the Bretonian was faster. After less than thirty seconds he announced: “Out bow armour is almost completely gone. We are between zero and 12 percent. The armour on the right side is down to 20 percent at the bow, 52 percent in the middle and 41 at the heck. The left side looks a little better especially at the bow, but not too much.”

The man’s voice had been matter-of-fact until now, but the pause and the quiet tone afterwards were telling a lot: “We lost the main bridge as we already expected. The armour on the upper deck is almost completely gone. I get an indication that only two bulkheads are closed and intact. Probably that is where the damage control team is trapped. The lower deck’s armour seems to be in good state. The hangar does not seem to have decompressed. Probably that is the case because the armour is thickest there besides the upper deck. Our heck armour is down to 7 percent as far as I can see.”

“Look at that.” Bergander whispered. He had switched again to another camera set, which shew things behind them. At least partly. Only one camera was working and it shew empty space. Empty space and something else.

“The fluctuation… Charles was right!” Herfeld said so quiet that Bergander could barely make it out.

“What is this?”

“Lieutenant Berkley, this is probably a jumphole.” Herfeld announced in his sheer endless sense for the right words at the wrong time.

“A jumphole?” The Bretonian’s voice expressed a lot of horrification. Bergander could almost understand the man. He was engineer. Probably he never saw things like this and especially not in situations like this.
“Magellan only has one jumphole and that one is leading to Leeds!” Berkley protested weakly. He now almost seemed as overwhelmed and terrified as Ensign Scott had been before on the sick bay.

“Somehow this system does not really look like Leeds. I mean we have just been to Leeds and I somehow miss the tradelanes, the asteroid fields and the dust fields. So if this is Leeds I will eat my other shoe as well.”

“No need for that.” Bergander tried to make Herfeld shut up. Somehow he was once again glad about the lack of gravity, because if the Bretonian could have fainted, he might have done so now. Falling was definitely impossible though.

“Don’t you want to try the other camera sets as well?” Herfeld was not at all willing to let go of it.

Not even sure whether he wanted to see the rest of it, Bergander changed the necessary settings. There were no other surprises though. All they got was a better impression of the jumphole and of a lot of debris floating around it.

Suddenly a thought entered Bergander’s mind and he spoke it aloud in Herfeld’s direction: “What if Liberty follows us? If they send another ship through the jumphole, it will ram us even worse than we did with that ship out there.”

“I… I do not wish to think of that.” Berkley’s entire behaviour clearly indicated that he wanted to be everywhere right now, but not here.

Pointing at the ship’s hull in the right direction, Herfeld quietly asked: “I do not think that they have to follow us. They are already here. We probably rammed the missing ship from California. Old Jack really deserves a better acknowledgement than he got in the past.” Thinking about something else, Herfeld started to laugh. It was a dry sarcastic laughter, which made Berkley look at him and at Bergander as if he feared that Herfeld had just gone insane.

Also worried Bergander asked: “What in hell’s name is so funny?”

“I am just thinking that good old Jack has really been better with his prophecy than everyone expected. Including us. It was not the Westerland, Sebastian. It was us. You and me. Remind me if I ever meet him again, I will ask him for a prophecy concerning the next lottery. Done once or twice I might be millionaire if not even billionaire!”

Now the understanding struck Bergander, but he could definitely not say that he liked the direction, in which the hint aimed. With a soft voice he said: “You might not become that rich you know. He was wrong regarding one point if not even two.”

“And which ones?” Herfeld asked without any sense of humour.

“We were not the next ones. You have seen the camera image. That thing next to us is not the Oregon. It is too small for that. It might probably have the same size as the Belfast. And that means there was someone else in-between. This ship on our starboard side. His prophecy was wrong.”

“Don’t be so nitpicking! Ah well fine… being millionaire is also a nice thing. I would not really know on what I should spend billions anyway.”

“If I were you I would not even be sure about those millions. The Oregon is not here.”

“Well honestly that was the least of my sorrows right now, but now that you say it… you might be right.”

Correcting himself Bergander admitted: “But she must be here! I mean everything suits. Even Will’s letter. I was just plain wrong with my assumption that it’s all about technology. Liberty was probably doing research on the jumphole they have found some day. They just wanted to keep it secret. At all costs.”

In agreement Herfeld nodded. “So they might have sent the Oregon through it, but the ship did not come back. Considering the amount of damage and the rough ride through the hole I probably understand why. There is only one problem we might have to face…”

Looking at the damage control console, Bergander perfectly knew what Herfeld was talking about. “We were running away from battle. I wonder what attacked him. It must have been a major force. Commander Shelby must have found the hole by chance and tried to use the chance to get away.”

“I would have thought twice about taking an unknown jumphole.”

“With an enemy force behind he certainly saw it as being the only chance. He saved our life by that. I would be more grateful if I were you!”

Herfeld mumbled something before he clearly stated: “I would give a lot to know what he has seen before he died. What they have seen before they died rather.”

“Cloaked ships becoming visible right in front of them. Remember the white rabbit that lead us to the Nomad Research Station.”

“I thought you just made that one up because you were full like a bucket!”

“Honestly I also thought for a while that it was just the borderworld Whiskey, but now I know that I saw a cloaked fighter whose pilot was playing games with me. Cloaking, dekloaking and again the disappearance.”

“But why should someone have guided us to the Nomad Research Station? They were all but happy to see us and definitely not sure what to do, so they pumped us full with drugs and waited.”

“Perhaps there has been an agent on one of the ships. First of all their hope probably was that we would just leave again, so they repaired our Mule. Things got out of control when the agents started to die and Carl fled from station. After that they had to wait. They just waited to catch Carl Hansen. After they noticed that he was not in possession of the bag and the disks, they had to play along. Carl was so smart to leave them probably at Mactan Base. The Hackers must have delivered them! So after they had Carl, but not the material they knew ships would come. If he had not gotten through I am sure that we would never have awoken again. This way they just could not be sure what would happen. They waited and kept us this way from discovering even more things. Just the letter did not fit into their plan.”

“I just wonder whom we can tell about this then. To say it clearly: With this ship we will not get anywhere. Perhaps later on when the Lieutenant has managed to repair the main systems, if that is at all possible, but one thing is clear: We do not know whether any yard exists in this system. Certainly none of us. All we know about are at least one if not two enemy ships.”

“We might better try to our radio communication back.” Bergander agreed.

“It is already working and gets its power from the emergency battery. The Lieutenant took care of that. But just let me ask you what you intend to do if there really is a call.”

Looking straight into Herfeld’s eyes Bergander replied honestly: “I definitely hope that there won’t be any welcome, but if there is, the Bretonians will have to come to a decision. This is their ship, not mine.”

“As far as I see it there are not many choices. Maybe I should go to check out whether I can enlarge our chances and add a few new possibilities.” Berkley suggested. His true intention might be rather to get off the bridge as far as Bergander guessed and he was willing to let the engineer go.

“It might really be best if you go down again. You cannot help us right now.”

“Yes, definitely. You got any further advice? Lieutenant Commander Greenstreet will certainly be grateful. I will have a quick look at the quarter deck first. Remember that the internal communication does not work so far. If there is anything to tell, you better do so now.”

“Yes, maybe ask someone at the quarter deck to make a list with all names of the surviving crewmembers as well their position and their injuries. If there is anyone with bridge experience avaiable, send him here. Keep on trying to reach the trapped group on the upper deck. They might not survive the night otherwise. If you got the people to spare send someone to the hangardeck. Give your commanding officer a damage report if possible and he also needs to know how many ships and pilots are available and whether we are able to launch any of them. Concerning the repair I would suggest focussing on the energy, life support and gravity systems. After that the main drive is desperately needed. The ship’s internal communication is also very useful and perhaps if you can get the navigation systems back online please do so. The shields and he weapon are secondary. This ship is not in any position to fight right now. Living, moving away from the jumphole and after that seeing would be my top priorities in exactly this order if I were the commanding officer.”

“Sounds good. I will see what can be done about it. Don’t be afraid. This ship is a tough lady and my men know what they are doing.”

“I am sure about that, Lieutenant. Commander Shelby admired your knowledge and skills. If anyone makes it, you will do so.”

With relief Bergander noticed that a thin smile appeared on Berkley’s lips. “Thank you.”

After the Bretonian had left, Herfeld commented: “Congratulations, you really made him feel better. You even made me feel better for a second. But please don’t expect me to salute you just like he did. I almost thought that I was having a hallucination.”

Still a bit embarrassed Bergander shook his head. “He should not be the one to salute me, Frederick. He is Bretonian and I am not his superior officer. You rather should though, because we are supposed to be on the Westerland. That makes me become your superior again, doesn’t it?”

“If you want to accept any advice from me, you better quickly forget about that. It might be a long time to come until we see Rhineland again.”

“Let’s see. Most systems have at least two jumpholes.”

“Honestly I would not even dare to jump from Hamburg to New Berlin in this ship right now. Going through an unknown hole might the worst idea ever. If you advice Greenstreet to give such an order, I will declare you insane and voice my objections against it.”

“We will see. Trust me. And as far as I see it there is the Second Officer left. The Belfast is not our responsibility. Berkley asked for my advice because they do not have an experienced deck officer right now and he got it. Still he should not misunderstand it by thinking that those words were orders. It was his fault to do so.”

“It almost sounded like a set of orders though. But what if this Fitzgerald does not survive, Sebastian? I mean leaving Berkley’s behaviour aside of course. He probably acted like that because he was confused after hearing and seeing these things and being supposed to make decisions he never made in his life. We were way too open.”

The memory of a single remark made Bergander stare at him for a second. He had actually wanted to apologize for his outburst on their way to the emergency bridge, but now he quickly thought better and kept his mouth shut. He liked none of this and preferred to avoid giving an answer to Herfeld’s question. His mind was troubled.






Edited by - [WPIcefox on 5/26/2006 5:03:18 PM

The clicking of the door to the room, where he had decided to take a nap after being urged to do so by the ship’s doctor Greenstreet, suddenly brought him back into reality.

The first thing he noticed was a woman standing close to the door. It occurred to him that the ship apparently had gravity again. Now he also heard the quiet humming in the background.
“Lieutenant Berkley and his men made it?” was the first question he asked while trying to unfasten the belts, which had kept him in the bed before in the zero g environment.

“Yes they made it. Currently the technicians are working on the drive if I got it right.”

Her tone and statement did not include any reproach, but he still felt very bad about having slept here for at least an hour while everyone else was working. That he had tried to help and even went to the quarters where the doctors were working under very hard conditions was not really making him feel any better either.
Greenstreet had not accepted any help. The medical officer had looked at him and insisted after a short question about Bergander’s intentions that he should go and rest because of the blood he had lost and the exhaustion and pain sheer everyone felt.
It was pain, which still resulted from the jump. The way here had almost torn the Bretonian cruiser Belfast entirely apart. As far as he had understood Greenstreet back then, it had probably also killed more than thirty crewmembers in different ways. He could consider himself lucky.

He was not used to gravity anymore. Setting his feet on the floor included a wave of pain washing over him. The left thigh where the bullet had hit him was the main origin, but not the only. He felt nausea and the urgent need to vomit although he had not eaten anything for days or even weeks during which the people on the station and later the Bretonians had fed his body with infusions. Greenstreet had said after his first wakeup that the change to normal food had to be made slowly to make it possible for his body get used to it again.

Fighting his own weakness he managed to get up with the help of the bed. Zero g definitely had a lot of advantages if one was suffering from a leg injury and a loss of blood. The bandage on his shoulder was a new one. Apparently one of the two meds had been here. Again Bergander felt awful. There were people dying because things had crashed down on them and other things like that and Greenstreet or his assistant had come to change an unimportant bandage of an old gun wound. They had done so, because Bergander was for them something close to the commanding officer. Although he saw it entirely different. That certainly was the origin of an even bigger misery.

When he had dressed in the fresh Bretonian uniform, which he had found on the chair in the room and reached the door the woman was already gone. There was probably still enough to do for everyone. Ignoring the general weakness of his body and the unsteadiness of his legs he tried to figure out whether he was needed on the bridge or whether he should see Greenstreet first.
Herfeld might have given the instruction to wake Bergander up so that he could relief him, but nothing in the woman’s behaviour indicated that it was urgent. Greenstreet was probably not too far away, so there definitely was the time to come and see him.

To his surprise the rooms, which had been used as provisional hospital were deserted. All but the woman were gone. She was tidying up, throwing bloody bandages and other garbage into a large black plastic bag, which already seemed to be almost full. The crewmember seemed to be very exhausted, but she carried on.
Not really sure how to address her he just said: “You do not have to do this right now. There might be more important things to do.”

“Not really. Not anymore. Lieutenant Commander Greenstreet ordered to let you sleep and instructed me to wake you up when he left.”

“Pardon? How… how long did I sleep?”

“He guessed that you might ask this question. You have spent half a day in bed. Your colleague agreed with him that there was no reason to wake you up.” Making a gesture to the floor, she added: “They also agreed to move the injured to the hangardeck. The med bay was too small and so were these rooms. With only two doctors there was no other possibility than assembling all injured people at one place. The only place big enough was the hangardeck.” The slight irony in her voice did not really cover the sadness below it. Not really daring to ask, Bergander still had to know. “How many are injured?”

“Apart from everyone you mean? I do not know the exact number, but I heard that the Lieutenant Commander said something about sixty people who need permanent medical attention or are unable to work. He also said that about twenty of them might not make it. Perhaps more, because the conditions on the hangardeck are really awful.”

“God! What about the rest of the crew?” Bergander shuddered.

“I think we are about twenty people, who are running the ship. The rest has been taken to the upper deck.”

Knowing what this referred to Bergander closed his eyes. Probably more than sixty people had died, those who had died in the freighters before not even included. If Greenstreet’s words were really true, there would be less than one third of the ship’s crew left in the end. The dead had been taken to the upper deck, where the vacuum was. “What about the damage control team on the upper deck?” he wanted to know quietly.

She looked at the floor. “They got one out alive. You should go and see Lieutenant Berkley if you have the time to spare. It might help him. The doctor gave him an injection, because otherwise he would never have gone to his quarter. He shared the cabin with Lieutenant Fitzgerald and two others, but right now he should be alone.” Picking up an empty syringe with her trembling hand, she held it for a second, now looking straight at him. “Lieutenant Commander Greenstreet also wants to see you later on. He was with Fitzgerald before the Lieutenant died.”
Bergander put a hand to his forehead. He did not wonder about the sweat on it. His skin felt hot, the sweat cold. Apparently he was getting fever. ‘Lieutenant Commander Greenstreet also wants to see you later on. He was with Fitzgerald before the Lieutenant died.’ Her last words echoed in his thoughts. The Belfast’s last commanding deck officer was dead. Officially Lieutenant Commander Greenstreet now commanded the Belfast.

Not even thinking about Herfeld, who was probably already battling fatigue on the bridge and also not about Greenstreet being willing talk to him, he demanded: “Could you please show me the way to Lieutenant Berkley’s quarter?”

Without answering, she let go of the black bag and lead the way. Her entire
behaviour and the way she looked expressed not only Bergander’s, but probably also the entire crew’s misery. Probably she was having freetime, but she had come here to tidy up to do at least something. A bit of normality in an abnormal situation. More than half of the Belfast’s crew was already dead and everyone was confronted with the horror of it. Everyone probably lost someone he knew and liked. Additionally they were in the middle of nowhere and a war had broken out. The latter the crew might already have sensed, but probably not completely understood. War had come again over the colonies. Liberty had also broken the cloaking ban treaty. Dan Shelby and the others were probably not the last ones to die. If they ever got back again or first of all found out where they really were. What had really happened. It was something the crew had probably not yet thought about, but the officers knew. One of them might have told Alexander Greenstreet about it as well.

Stopping in front of the door she pointed at, Bergander hesitated for a short moment and knocked then. When no answer came, the Rhinelander just opened and entered the quarter, which lay in complete darkness. Switching on the light, Bergander noticed with surprise the gun in Berkley’s hand. The Bretonian was sitting on one of the beds, although he was supposed to sleep after the injection.
The room was a mess. So far no one had tidied up here. A blood-sprayed bed quilt-cover, cushion and blanket were lying on top of the bed as well. They came from the bunk above Berkley’s. Only the mattress was left on it. It was also sprinkled with brown. The other two beds were perfectly made. It looked somewhat strange in the untidy room that Bergander wondered about it for a short moment.
He directed his looks to the wall and the floor giving Berkley the opportunity to wipe the tears away from his cheeks without being embarrassed.

“I was told that I would find you here.” Bergander stated just to say something.

“And I would be glad if you could go again.”

Ignoring the gun in the Bretonian’s hand he made two steps towards the bed until the hand suddenly rose, the gun pointing at him. “Stop! Do not come any closer! I do not wish to hurt you!”

Like ordered Bergander stopped. “I know that you don’t want to hurt me. Just yourself. But do you really think that this is a solution?”

“You do not understand! I failed! I failed them all!” The hand was almost unable to keep the gun directed at Bergander, so the Bretonian put it up again until it touched his head.

“You did not fail anyone, Lieutenant.” Bergander tried to calm him, although he was shocked and not really sure how he could prevent the engineer from committing suicide. Berkley should not even be in possession of any gun, but probably he had gotten it from one of the ship’s magazines. Who could be able to disable the door lock, if not the chief engineer? But the how question was not important anyway. The reason for the man’s despair was more dreading and the key to prevention.

“Look at it! Even James is dead! I was told later on that he wanted to see me, but I was not there when he died!”

“You were busy with your important duty of saving the ship. No one would have understood that better than Lieutenant Fitzgerald.” It was a rough guess, but the only possible one. They had been friends. The bloody bed sheets underlining the fact that Second Officer Fitzgerald had been here when the ship jumped and the news that he had died indicated with the man’s reaction that things had reached the limit for the chief engineer.

“I was busy getting into vacuum clothing and later trying to close the large hole on the upper deck close by the bridge.” Berkley’s voice was in contrast to a short moment before now entirely matter-of-fact.

“I am sure that he would have understood that and not have been mad at you.”

“No! It was useless to try it. Time was running out for them. We tried to get the hole closed with five people so that we could pump atmosphere into it again and open the damn bulkhead! We even made it.”

“Sometimes one cannot change the way things go. You have tried your best. You could not help it that they died.” Bergander tried to calm him.

“Oh yes! I could have helped it!” The engineer’s look was somewhat painful that Bergander could hardly bear it. “I could have helped it if that goddamn patch would have done its purpose! If it had just lasted half a minute longer! Goddamn! We already had Lionel out and I was just helping Eliza Kane through the open bulkhead when the thing blew! She was our youngest cadet on her first trip and just celebrated her 19th birthday with us half two weeks ago. She was scared and so glad to get out, but she insisted that we take Lionel first because of his injury and then that goddamn thing just blew! In one second I was holding her and in the second she was gone. Gone! Just… just a bloody…” Again Berkley broke out in tears. His voice was hysterical. “I had her all over me. Do you understand?! She… she was just gone.”

“You saved at least one life.”

“Yes I did, but two of my men died for him and Eliza was dead. Eliza and two others who were also alive from her team. If I had waited just half an hour and done my work more properly they would all be alive. All of them!”

“Perhaps they did not have that half hour. Before I left the bridge Frederick and I did a diagnosis to get an overview. We assessed the available data and the upper deck’s hull was probably very fragile. It has taken torpedo hits and survived the jump into this sector. It could have given in any second. Time was running out. You had to take those risks.”

“If I had not taken it two of my men would still be alive.”

“And Lieutenant Dunningham would be dead.” Bergander repeated once more.
“So we lost one more life by trying to rescue him. If we had left the team where they were and tried it harder two people would be living instead of him and that is just my fault!” Berkley’s grip on the gun hardened.

It was obvious to Bergander that the Bretonian was not only serious about it, but also merely seconds away from really doing it. He had one last chance and again tried to reach Berkley, but he had to stop when the Bretonian pressed the gun closer to his head.

Bergander had to rely on his voice and his words. “Would you tell Dunningham about that as well? That it was a fault to save his life? Who are you that you try to count lives up against each other? It was an accident, Lieutenant. Believe me that I have made decisions like this one as well and it is never easy. You tried your best, but the odds were against you. Your men also knew about the risks, but they still tried. Without risks life is not the same. If you had not tried it that is what would haunt you till the end of your life.”

“And now it is my own failure. Not much of a difference, right? But luckily the end of my life is very close. You have chosen your words well.”

“It makes a difference, because I do not wish to explain to Lieutenant Dunningham that you shot yourself. It will not make them become alive again. You are suffering from a shock, but we can talk about things. Everyone here has lost friends. It won’t serve any purpose if you just finish it off. You will think differently and…”

“No, I won’t. I do not see any sense in my further existence.”

“But I do, Lieutenant.” Bergander said quietly. “You are an important member of the crew and the most qualified engineer. Probably there will be many people grieving for you.”

“Lionel is a qualified technician as well. He will make it. He told us that one or two of his rips are broken and that there is something wrong with his arm, but it is nothing that could kill him. Apart from that my men are very competent as well. Don’t try to cheer me up again. It won’t work.”

“What shall your men think of you when they hear that their commanding officer killed himself? It is very selfish of you to do think about that and leave us here alone. You are the most qualified engineer, otherwise Dunningham would be chief engineer and not you.”

“Honestly I don’t care about what my men will think about me.” Making a dreadful pause, Berkley looked at him. “Honestly I also don’t care about what you think. Maybe you will know now how I felt when Eliza died while I was trying to save her. It is nothing I could ever forget. Nothing I want to live with. Whenever I close my eyes I see her face and the bloody mess on my protective clothing. I cannot live with that. I don’t want to. Call it selfish or not. I just want my peace. Eternal peace.”

The shot ringing out loudly broke the silence violently. After seconds Bergander finally realized what had happened. He understood it, but could not accept it. Horrified, he made a few steps backwards until he reached the wall close by the door. He felt responsible. If he had just not slept and if someone had noticed how bad Berkley had really taken the death of the people on the upper deck…

A hammering in his head made him lean completely against the wall. He took a series of deep breaths, feeling as if he was about to suffocate. Berkley was not the first shot man he had seen in his life, but it was the first suicide he had watched. Somehow he wanted to look at something else, but he could not. It was a feeling of having taken a look at something forbidden. Something cruel, that was beyond human understanding.



The sound of hurried steps closing in reached his ears. Someone knocked on the door. “Captain Bergander? Lieutenant Berkley?” It was Alexander Greenstreet’s voice demanding an answer. The Bretonian sounded definitely worried.

Lacking the power for anything, Bergander remained quiet. The pain in his temples increased.

“I know they are in here… I mean I brought him here and later on…” The voice of the woman, who had lead the way to Berkley’s cabin.

“Be quiet!” Greenstreet was perhaps just a medical officer, but his manner was definitely proving any assumptions Herfeld and Bergander had made false. The doctor was definitely able to give orders in a way which did not permit any opposition.

A second later the door was opened. Bergander felt it, because he was leaning close by. Turning around he covered the entrance as best as he could, made two steps forward and pulled the door shut again behind him. After that he was grateful for someone grabbing his arm helping him to sit down on the corridor.
A look into Greenstreet’s face, which had lost almost its entire colour, told him that the Bretonian had already seen what had happened. Bergander answered the unspoken question by shaking his head.

“Lieutenant Commander?” It was a tall lean man, who slowly came alone down the corridor towards them.

“Lieutenant! I ordered that you shall remain in your bed!” Obviously only Bergander noticed the slight crack in the voice.

Completely ignoring Greenstreet’s remark the man looked at the people assembled in front of the cabin. “Where is Vincent?”

When not even his superior answered, he made even more steps forward stopping in front of Bergander. Or perhaps the Rhinelander had just assumed it, because the cabin apparently was the man’s real destination.

Before he could open it, Greenstreet had pulled himself together and blocked the way. “Back into your bed I say!”

“My bed is here, Sir. Right in my cabin. I already told you about that. Vince needs me. I had to come here after I heard that you were called.”

“Sub-Lieutenant Dunningham, you are seriously wounded and not in condition to walk around on the ship!”

“I will be in bed fairly soon if you let me.” When he was studying Bergander’s ashen face, his voice lost a bit of its confidence. “Is it true that crewman Shelley heard a shot…?” Now comprehension came. “You… you mean that… no! Vince… no!” Due to his sudden unpredictable rush forward Dunningham managed to get past Greenstreet and pull the door open. The desperate gasp and the following cry of horrification made Bergander get up. Together with the medical officer he pulled the technician out of the room and slammed the door shut again.

The man was shaking uncontrollably and talking so rapidly that Bergander could hardly make out the single words. Greenstreet apparently could, but he was too shocked himself to do anything else than signalling in the direction of the terrified woman and the other crewmember accompanying him to bring Dunningham back to the hangardeck.

His words to everyone were clearly audible in the silence that followed: “No one says a single word about this! That is an order!”

Bergander said quietly when the three others were gone: “I could not do anything. He already seemed willing to do it when I arrived… I failed to convince him to hand the gun over to me.”

Greenstreet just sighed. “You stood very close to him when it happened, right?”

“Pardon?”

“There is…” The Bretonian pointed at Bergander’s uniform shirt.

Looking hurriedly away after a short glance Bergander swallowed. His throat was dry. “I will better ask someone for a new uniform. It was wise of you to order them to keep quiet about it for now. I cannot go to the hangardeck like this so I might better take care of the body as well.” He tried to sound convincing, but even to him it was not really successful. Berkley’s death had shocked him deeply.

“I should rather call two men for that, Captain.”

“If you help me we might manage it too, although I think that it won’t remain secret for long.”

“Probably even Lieutenant Dunningham’s behaviour will tell the tale. The crew is reacting quite sensitive to everything right now. The morale is already close to the bottom. There are rumours that we are not in Magellan anymore. Some people even state that we have been attacked by Nomads and abducted to their home system. The crew knows that the station was called Nomad Research Station.”

“That’s nonsense and you know it!”

Raising the eyebrows, the doctor sighed again. “I do not know anything right now. I do not believe in Nomads taking us here to play games and hunt us down in the end, but apart from that I do not have any explanations or solutions either. I am not educated for this kind of situation, Captain.”

“Please stop stressing my rank this way. I value your kind attempt to credit me with honours although I am just a foreign officer for you, but I planned to leave the forces after flying back to Rhineland.”

“I am afraid that this is not a matter of kindness, Sir.”

In this situation the little word at the end made Bergander almost jump. “No, Lieutenant Commander. No!”

“Would you please listen to my explanation?”

Sebastian Bergander did not really want to listen to anything. He knew what the Bretonian wanted to say and he refused to accept it. Despite his vigorous headshake, Greenstreet just started: “Commander Shelby told us staff officers before the fight that our military has received instructions from your government to treat you like officers of a neutral house. He also mentioned an assumption by the secret service that Rhineland would probably be on your side if war breaks out between our houses. Mister Hansen is Rhinelander and he has been abducted in our home system. The occurrences on the station in Magellan also affected both our houses. You have to know that the Commander was not honest with the crew. Or better said he was, but he left a few aspects away. He told us on the meeting that our new orders were about bringing up prove for Liberty’s hostile intentions in the Magellan system. You know what this means.”

Hearing the words against his own will, Bergander voiced his guess without hesitation: “Your house was searching for reasons to start a war.”

“Yes. Our politicians were searching for reasons. It was certainly not their intention to start a war, but to impose sanctions on Liberty and perhaps higher taxes on their products being sold in our space. The relationship between Liberty and Bretonia has become worse during the past months. It mainly concerned our trading companies and the passage through Magellan. Liberty has put an extra tax on Bretonian goods. Of course no one could foresee the recent developments, but it was predictable that our house would at least have to threaten with sanctions at some point. It was even planned to station ships at the Magellan gate if necessary. As it looks now nobody will talk about sanctions anymore. Current talks will probably be about fleet mobilisation and negotiations will be about finding possible allies. Rhineland will be on the top of this list I can assure you. How your government would react you can figure out for yourself, but for me it only means one thing: I do not consider you as guests, but as allies. Allies in this war. It is not really common that a Bretonian commanding officer lets a foreign ally command his ship, but I do not know what else I could do.”

He wanted to pull something out of his uniform pocket, but Bergander prevented him from doing so. “Lieutenant Commander, I am not the right man for this job. The thought to command your ship is alien to me.”

“Your shyness honours you, Captain. Just tell me which other choice we have got. I cannot command the Belfast and the only man who might have been able to do so shot himself in the cabin behind us. I talked to Lieutenant Fitzgerald. His lung was punctured, but he awoke once before he died and demanded to talk to me. You are his choice. He was not sure whether Berkley would be able to command the Belfast and now I know why. He wanted you to get this.” Taking the other hand, Greenstreet took out a note from his pocket and used his other hand, which was still locked in Bergander’s grip, to shuffle the paper into the Rhinelander’s hand.

Intending to give it back to him, Bergander wanted to decline, but Greenstreet did not let him speak. “Captain Bergander, please do not refuse. There is no one else left. I would never find a way back. I am not supposed to organise everything on the Belfast. I treat those who are injured and I am not bad at it. It is just really hard enough, especially now when there is such a large number of them. Give me a man with a broken bone and I will handle it, but give me three ships attacking us and you will see that there will not be any good in it. Every single one of the Sub-Lieutenants would do a better job on the emergency bridge than me. I will kill everyone if I command this ship. That also includes you, because you are stuck with us. I can only appeal to your sense of duty and your own intention to survive this.”

Seriously fearing that the Bretonian would either break out in tears as well or fall down on his knees, Bergander made up his mind and finally settled into his fate. At least one point was right. There were not many people left. Only Herfeld and him. Considering that he knew that he had the greater experience. Apart from that Frederick Herfeld might not be the best choice. The Bretonians were very sensitive concerning officers who had served under the Asgard regime. In fact they had sentenced all of them to death. It was probably better if Herfeld did not command this ship or his past might come out. The Bretonians would never really trust an ex-Asgard. There were of course various reasons and this was the second main one. About the first one Bergander was not entirely sure.
He unfolded the paper, glanced at it and carefully put it into his pocket. “You got the code as well?”

“Right here.” Greenstreet touched his forehead with two fingers. “But I do not know the Lieutenant’s code. I thought that…”

“I know what you mean, but I wish that you have it as well. You have great trust in me and I am grateful for that, but you already mentioned that this situation is very extraordinary. The ship code is useless if there is no personal authorized command code following. It just grants access to the menu. I want you to learn Lieutenant Fitzgerald’s authorisation code. I will do so first and give you the note back later today. Or do you want to know it first?”

“No, no, you can keep it for now and give it back to me later on. I will learn it and destroy the note afterwards, but honestly I do not even know where I should enter it if we really get into a situation in which it might be required.”

“Hopefully we won’t get into such a situation.”

“Right. But let me ask you: Will you keep this to yourself?”

The question made Bergander slightly smile. “Even in Rhineland we do not share authorisation codes with everyone.”

“Yes, I did not expect anything else, but Lieutenant Commander Herfeld…”

“You have entrusted me with the Second Officer’s command authorisation. It includes the means to destroy this ship if the situation requires it. The Belfast if a Bretonian vessel and you are the responsible Bretonian senior officer. I will respect your wishes in this matter. I won’t tell anyone unless you wish it.”

“Thank you, Captain.”

“Thank you for putting your trust in me, Lieutenant Commander.”

Embarrassed Greenstreet shook his head. “I should get back down to take care of Dunningham and the others. Do you really want to bring Berkley’s remains up right now?”

Suddenly reminded of the dead chief engineer Bergander looked at the closed door. “No. Probably it is really better if two crewmembers do it. They know where the protective clothing is and honestly I do not really feel like going to the upper deck right now. I have to relieve Frederick. He is waiting for me. Before that I should just go and talk to Dunningham.”

“He will come over it.”

“I am not so sure about it. Apparently they were friends.”

“They were together on the academy and imprisoned right after that when they refused to serve under the Asgard regime.”

Thinking about Herfeld Bergander replied: “I am sorry about that. I am just wondering why Lieutenant Berkley…”

“Sedatives can strongly affect logical thought. It was my fault to send him here. It was what I would have done in a normal situation. I was so busy that I did not think about it. My fault. I mean he has just been on the upper deck, where he had to watch how five people died from one second to another. Everyone would have been shocked after that. The other two men carrying Dunningham were luckily on the safer side of the closing second bulkhead. It slammed shut with the force of several tons in less than milliseconds.”

When Bergander did not answer, Greenstreet looked at his shoes.

After a deep sigh Bergander decided: “It does not help, Lieutenant Commander. Let us go down.”

“Don’t forget about your shirt, Captain. You should not…” Looking at his own uniform, which he had not changed since hours, the medical officer stopped short and shrugged. “Ah well. Guess it does not really matter. I look like a butcher myself. Not a doctor, but a butcher. They are used to the sight of blood. Most crewmembers assembled on the hangardeck might sleep anyway. Even those who do not need me that desperately. It is just that hardly anyone chooses to sleep here on the quarter deck.”

“That is not really good. Do you know by chance whether we are able to launch any ships from the hangardeck?”

“I have no idea. Technically maybe, practically definitely not right now.”

“I will think of a solution. The people, who do not need permanent medical attention, should move back into their quarters.”

“I thought of that as well, but I… did not really want to enforce it. I mean the crew just sticks together right now. So many people died and we are lost in the middle of nowhere…”

“Currently we are lost, but I am going to change that fairly soon. This system is indeed not Magellan, but we will figure out where we are and how we get away from here again.”

Looking a bit more confident again, Greenstreet steadied himself. “You are right, Captain. But honestly…” The bloodshot brown eyes in the tired face were examining Bergander. “… I would really like to see you on the hangardeck as well. May I?”

Before the Rhinelander could even answer or avoid it, the doctor had put his hand onto Bergander’s forehead. “Definitely. You got temperature. I have to insist on you…”

“Doctor, I do not have time for that. I will see Lieutenant Dunningham and go to the bridge after that.”

“I am sorry, Captain, but you will not go anywhere until I found out where the fever comes from. Probably your shoulder wound is infected. Petty Officer Verholme already told me that it could be possible, because he did not like the looks of it when he changed the bandage about seven hours ago. You will need medical attention.”

“Lieutenant Commander, I am not willing…”

“I suggest that you spend the time on being treated instead of useless protest wasting your and my time.” This time the voice almost left no room for objections. “Do not get me wrong please, but if you do not let me have this look and give you the necessary injections, you might die from it. Honestly it would be very unhealthy as well if you just carry on as you would do if the injury was not existent. I know what I m talking about. Believe me. About tomorrow someone will definitely take you to the med. Perhaps even before. Still sure that you do not wish to let me have that look?”

Turning his eyes upwards Bergander remained quiet. Naval doctors were always behaving same way no matter where they came from or what their name was. Vogt, Mies, Hill, Greenstreet. He had met quite a few of them during the last years. They all understood or had understood it perfectly to suppress any resistance. In Bergander’s eyes a doctor had even more power than an Executive Officer.
‘Probably there exists some kind of gene lab where they all come from after they got cloned.’ was one of his thoughts when he followed Alexander Greenstreet.