[center][h3]Zohra[/h3][/center]

"No damage, all systems nominal, and nothing on my sensors," Zohra reported, keeping her eyes glued on the displays feeding from the powerful sensors of her Raven. She felt a pang of guilt, noticing the battered BattleMechs of some of her lance mates. Her Raven had been untouched as it flitted around the edges of the battlefield. She had been lucky. Ulrik had been wise to have her keep an eye open on their flank. Shooting at range had been a fruitful endeavor. She had whittled down the armor of the enemy BattleMechs. Armor taken from an enemy at no cost was always an excellent trade. It had kept her safe. At least until the battle became desperate and even then she had been lucky. In the haste of battle she had

Wiping the sweat from her brow, she whispered a quiet prayer, thankful to be alive and grateful that no one from her lance had been lost. It was hard to feel bad for the pirates, but she felt some sympathy, the sort of sympathy one felt for the dead, even if they likely had not been very good.

Zohra wasn’t sure what mercenary unit Alvin was talking about, but she hoped they had made it. She preferred happy endings. Mercenaries needed all the luck they could gather. The ragtag band of mercenaries that she found herself in, the game souls willing to gamble on the offer of the Rasalhagians were no exception. She wasn't sure if luck could be passed on from one mercenary outfit to another, but she sure hoped so.