Human Edge

Inside the briefing a lone mechwarrior was looking through the specifications of the spare mechs the Company had available. It wasn't satisfying, but it was necessary. None of them measured up to her Kiara's specs, which bothered her, yet there wasn't any choice. There would be more fighting soon. Perhaps that night. Or dawn.

Felicity flicked through the text on the Stinger from her chair close to the holo display table. Fortunately, nobody else was using the room. She had some water with her. For a moment she'd been tempted to have something more, but she'd resisted. She was a bad drunk and that was only made worse when she was miserable.

She was surely miserable.

After a few minutes, someone else entered the room, on the far side of the holotank.

The lean form of Alexei Herald took a seat opposite her, thumbing through his book of puzzles and watching the mechs she was studying idly.

He didn't say anything, letting her stew as long as she liked.

Felicity had looked up to see if the Captain needed the room for a crew briefing or such. When he just settled down she returned to her earlier activity, albeit a little awkwardly. She hardly knew the man and she was confused how he didn't have anything more important to do. However, she wasn't about to be rude and say that. She had some common sense.

After going through each mech she cycled back to the Valkyrie. It was the one more similar to what she was used to. Long range primary weapon, shorter range secondary, near identical speed. Just lighter.

Felicity opened her water bottle and had a few gulps as she mentally settled on the mech. She would probably be of little use in it, but it was better than useless.

"Eehm, good flying today Captain." She comments quietly, finally making conversation.

"Thank you. I'm glad I haven't lost my touch."

Closing the book, he glanced at her and then absent-mindedly rubbed the burns on his hands. "I got lucky. I got out with only a few scratches. Luckier than those poor bastards flying those two sholagar. Those damn fools didn't even try to bail out."

His expression had a certain dry, cold quality she hadn't seen on it before. "People who say to save the metal, and not the meat... are short-sighted at best. Each unique life cannot be rebuilt - unlike lostec which will surely someday be re-learned."

Putting the book away, he added, "I saw you were choosing a mech. You have my condolences - but also my congratulations that you avoided sharing the fate of that fool pilot."

Standing, he walked to the wall near the comm controls, fiddling with the buttons, seeming to alter several settings, and then glancing back at her, "What is your feeling about all this? Should we drive the enemy away... or trap and destroy them completely?"

"Yea... I got lucky too." She admits. "Just glanced at my sensors at the right time. Hit the eject barely quick enough and the ejection and landing went smoothly." Felicity frowned. "Would have been nice if the Major sent a warning there was a fighter careening toward me."

She listened to the talk of metal, meat and lostech. She just sort of nods, only processing it on a surface level.

"Yea... We're fortunate to have some spare." She notes the link with the Company name in her head and frowns again. It felt lucky and yet not. "At least none of us are dead, si."

At the strategic question she rubs her knees, leaning forward in the chair. "That's one for the Major, sir. If it were me I'd wipe them out. The whole time they're active they are a threat to our operations. They could call reinforcements or maybe they have more aerospace assets that can hit us when we try to leave. Then there's salvage, si, and we've taken losses." She huffs as she thinks about it. "And as much as I know it's bad for a mercenary outfit to do unpaid work, they're more than just a direct threat to us. They're homicidal maniacs who will kill civilians and do anything to achieve their objectives. I didn't think they would attack the town. It made no sense strategically. However, they didn't hesitate. They're like rabid dogs. Someone needs to out them down."

"I'm glad we agree."

Tapping the panel a few more times, he turned back to the holotank.

After a few moments, the display changed, showing... a simple radio channel, full of nothing.

Alexei, however, watched it intently.

After a protracted silence, some fourteen or fifteen seconds, he added, quietly, "I hope the captain of the Montenegro agrees..."

Felicity looked clueless. She was.

"Eehm, I don't follow Captain."

Glancing up, he smiled faintly, "I'll let you in on a little secret - and if you tell anyone... then at some point, a dropship crew will probably push you out an airlock." It was very hard to tell if he was joking. "There are maintenance channels used by dropship equipment to report information to nearby ships - consider them emergency frequencies reserved for computers to give warning of imminent navigational hazards. They also can be used by a dropship crewman wanting to communicate with another dropship crew in private - usually to exchange goods without the captain knowing, or upload smutty images, or sometimes for SOS calls."

Dialing a few buttons, he began typing on the pad. "In this case... the captain will be getting a question, and his crew will likely route it to him, and if they do, he can tell me... does he want to escape the Dragon?"

"Oh." All of the dropship information was news to her. She didn't know anything beyond the absolute basics of how they worked. "Eehm, I won't tell anyone... although that sounds like something to share with the Major. Probably Miss Winters too, si?"

Felicity sits up straighter as he talked about contacting the enemy. Or at least their dropship. "W-what if they don't? They may be as fanatical as their soldiers."

"Then they'll die the same as the rest."

Alexei said it in a tone one might use to discuss the weather.

"I suspect they might not, however. Hijacking ships is a time-honored tradition of war in the succession wars, hell, I remember... well... it happens. As for telling the Major, I plan to - if I get a response."

Watching the screen, he added, softly, "I suspect those poor bastards are victims, as much as the townspeople."