Watching her bootleg her way to the door, Trent almost managed a smile after his little tirade.

Thomas Trent had watched plenty of people come and go on the battlefield, but that was only round one. Where people really lived or died, came apart or stuck together, was [i]off[/i] the battlefield. If their little group therapy session had shown him anything, it was that this was where the team was hurting most in the wake of Astelion's death--even Trapp knew it with his laundry list of casualties. They were soldiers fighting a war, and just because the battle was over doesn't mean the war was.

And this was [i]not[/i] how you taught a rookie to win a war.

"Damn shame you had to see that mess." He said as he watched her march her way along, breaking the discipline of the room and sauntering up next to her, throwing a lanky arm around her shoulders. Too friendly, too relaxed, like whatever'd been eating him had just breezed on through. Hell, maybe it had, but he knew one thing for sure--you don't just let someone alone after they first take a life, and you don't let them get some bleeding heart bullshit stuck in their head. "Hang a left here, Williams, got a view I want you to see."

There wasn't exactly much room on the ship for things like 'privacy' or 'heart to hearts', which was just fine with Trent. What he did want her to see again was space, where she'd taken her first life and where she'd take plenty more.

Ariana followed beside Trent, glancing over at his arm with a raised eyebrow and a blush. She felt like she was back in high-school dammit, and she'd had that feeling an un-usually high number of times since stepping onto this ship. As she walked along, she couldn't help her curiosity over what may be coming next. After all, Trent had professed his faith in her a few times, but little else that she'd heard. So, while fighting off her own blush, nervousness, and continued raging insecurities about her place in the squad, she asked quietly "[color=f7976a]Where are we going?[/color]"

"To see the sights, kid." He offered idly as he made his way along. The observation deck wasn't large--there were grocery store break-rooms back where he came from that were bigger--but the important part was the view.

It was something for morale, apparently. Something about being able to take a second and look out of the shoebox made it that much easier to survive inside it, or some psychobabble like that, but either way it was one of the few mercies on the ship that Tom actually felt was absolutely necessary. He'd have--and probably had, thinking back on it--killed for less. The room was little more than a round table in the middle of a square and a big old plexiglass monstrosity of a window, probably reinforced to all hell, but looking out onto the void was something in and of itself. It was the only place Tom actually liked on this damn ship, the quiet reminder that they were only really just so insulated from a silent, freezing death.

The things that comforted him.

Clapping her on the shoulder by way of separation, he made for one of the seats and flopped into it unceremoniously, boneless. "How old are you, Williams?"

Seating herself opposite Trent with a, though more controlled, no less informal drop into the seat, she had to admit she was surprised by his question. That was in her personnel file and, the way it'd been described to her in boot, everyone and their third cousin in the unit you transfered to would read it. Then again, upon reflection, that was just impractical and probably stupid, most likely a joke the DIs played on the gullible recruits. She couldn't help but grin at this thought, with the motion of her muscles jerking her from her reverie at the same time. "[color=f7976a]I'm twenty-two years old as of a few months ago. What about you, Mr. Trent[/color]?"

He raised a finger pointedly and smirked. "Mr. Trent's my father, and he and I don't get on. Trent, Tom, Tommy, anything but that. Thirty four. Now, when do you plan on giving this all up?"

"Oh, hmmm." The question struck Ari a little off guard, but ironically enough was a little too easy to answer. Considering she'd just killed three men, she'd expected her answer to be something along the lines of "As [b]soon[/b] as possible." Though, for some reason, that answer didn't feel real. It was something synthesized, fake, just as artificial as the deck she walked on. Instead, she thought for a moment longer, then hesitantly responded "Until the job's done or I can't anymore. I can't just go home and take up some comfy engineering job while all this is happening, especially not now that I've seen a small glimpse of what all you real pilots do." She stopped then but, after a second's pause, added "[color=f7976a]Oh, and if we're discussing what we'd like to be called, please call me Ari. I know I'm the last one to talk about informality, but my last name has always been a little stiff[/color]."

It was funny, how something like that struck him. She didn't seem like an 'Ari' to him yet, for whatever reason, but let bygones be and all that. "Ari, then. So that's what really does it for you, then--jockeying out there. You gonna count your kills, darlin'?"


She curiously cocked her head, and gave it a bit of thought. Count her kills, well of course! How could she lose count of them? Then again, maybe that wasn't what he meant, after all, no way he'd ask such an obvious question, right? "[color=f7976a][i]Hmm, well, some of the other pilots had kill-tallies on their own MAS units. Maybe that's what he means, and even if he doesn't it's as good a guess as any[/color][/i]." With a slight nod to herself, she replied "[color=f7976a]I think I am going to keep a tally...it seems fitting, I guess. Though I'm not sure I'd say thats why I do it, I really want to protect everyone...I guess I'd be lying if I said it wasn't a real thrill. Is that bad, Tom? Enjoying the adrenaline high[/color]?"

Now [i]that[/i] was a Hell of a question to ask him.

It was harder than he thought, actually, to admit it. He breathed out slowly and ran a hand through his hair, leaning back in his chair to look her over. What was he supposed to say?

"Darlin', it's why I get out of bed in the morning." He half-said, half-admitted, and was surprised at how honest it felt to actually say it aloud. Looking out to the void outside, he found his lips sliding into a gentle smile as he propped his head up on the palm of his hand. "Best high in the world, screaming through space faster'n a bullet, knowing you're all of a hair's breath between dead and alive. But let's be real, kid--we both know you're not in this for the giggles."


Ari was taken aback by his answer, but noticed a fundamental flaw in it. He hadn't, really, answered her question. Yes, he'd noted she wasn't in it FOR the thrill, and that was quite true. The day she gave herself over to nothing more than the thrill, well, she wouldn't be fighting for others anymore. He hadn't, however, mentioned his thoughts on if it were truly bad. Then again, he'd mentioned that was why he got out of bed, so he couldn't think it was too bad right? That made sense from a purely logical perspective but, and this no doubt caused Alice endless agony, humans were not purely logical creatures.

"[color=f7976a]Well, that is true. I'm not now, and I hope I never will be, in it just for the adrenaline rush. Dad always said that any pilot who flies for nothing more than a rush isn't a soldier, just a warrior wearing a soldier's skin. I'm not sure what he meant by that, but I always thought he meant it's most important to fight for some kind of cause, an idea, a country, a person, something, anything but pure self gain. He always said that was what separated a soldier and a warrior, a cause....but I don't think you just get out of bed for a high, Tom. Of course, I can't reliably say it, I haven't known you very long, but you seem the kind of man with more hidden depths than can be charted[/color]."

"Darlin', by the time you can reliably say what kind of man I am when I roll out of bed poor Maki'll die of jealousy." He couldn't help himself when she made it that easy, offering an easy laugh before running a hand through his hair. "Nothin' against your daddy, seems like a smart guy and all, but allow me to disagree for a very simple reason--he's got it backwards."

"A warrior's somethin' you are. It means somethin' to you." He slipped into a drawl the more he talked, the more he focused--wherever it was he'd grown up, it hadn't been any slick city. "A soldier? Darlin', that's a [i]job[/i]. A profession. Carpenters nail up buildings, engineers build guns, bakers bake bread and soldiers make corpses. Have for tens of thousands of years now. Each one of those pilots you popped today? Just loaves of bread, darlin', fresh out the oven."

"You want to know a secret? Don't bother counting your kills. Dead men ain't nothin' special. Count the things you killed 'em for."

Ari was more than a little taken aback, not only by the change in his voice but by what he'd said. Every dead man...was just part of her job now? It didn't seem right, the words felt almost sour in her mind, like an apple, just past its prime. Yet, in another of Tom's paradoxes, it made too much sense. She was a soldier by trade now, though not a good one. She'd always reasoned it to herself that her job was to save people, but in the end thats not what she was paid to do, was it? She wasn't some medievac pilot or casualty collector, she was a combat pilot. Her teeth sunk into her lip in thought, the pressure helping anchor her to the world before her, as she decided she'd think about it later.

"[color=f7976a]What I killed them for, Tom? I suppose that's certainly a way to look at it. In either event though, I suppose....philosophy can wait. I never was much of an abstract girl, I got an engineering degree just so I wouldn't have to deal with all these questions that won't ever have a concrete answer. I can calculate a firing solution for the Astelion and tell you, definitely, if it's sound or not, but when we get into talks like this, there isn't a clear-cut right or wrong, just opinions and how they apply. For what it's worth, though...you make a point. Counting kills doesn't actually mean much of anything, just another way of showing what everyone who matters already knows, whether you like it or not.[/color]"

With that schpiel done, Ari took a moment to look out the window, an almost wistful smile on her face as she remembered her occaisional drills with the Sentry out in orbit, and her countless sims. It didn't quite compare to looking out at it from a window instead of a simulation or a HUD. "[color=f7976a]So, Tom, if I may ask another question..hmm, how to put it...as a pilot, I suppose, do you know anything I should know? I really want to try and prove I can keep the pace without getting myself killed, and you seem very good at both parts of that equation.[/color]"

She just kept it rolling, didn't she?

Thomas Trent was probably the [i]last[/i] person to ask about how to keep yourself alive.

"Two things, Wil--Ari. Sorry. That'll take me a while." He popped up two fingers and wiggled them dryly. "First, you keep pace by staying alive and doing your job. You do that, anyone who tells you otherwise can suck coolant. Second, you want to stay alive? Ask anyone else but me, which is saying something in our fucked up little family. The shit I pull is gonna get me killed someday, which is probably why I do it."

Whoops.

Things You Shouldn't Say to a Rookie 101. It was those pretty damn cheeks of hers--sunk him every time. "Alright, real truth?" He smiled, watching her with a slight grin. "Don't be afraid. No time for it--got better things to do. You got a mission to run, you got someone to gun? Just do it. None of this fear crap."

"Speaking of," he groaned as he got to his feet, stretching lightly, "we got ourselves a tradition to introduce your pretty little self to. Anything else before we see who's beating the crap outta who?"

She sighed at his declaration, his words processing slowly but efficently. Don't be afraid, that made sense, fear impeded action, as she'd got a first hand look at back there. Sadly, however, a fear reaction is very hard to consciously control, so most likely she'd just have to be aware of it and force herself to act anyway. It was an unfortunate truth, but a truth none-the-less. What really--

[i]Pop[/i].

It wasn't hard, but the two-fingered poke to her forehead was just enough to drive it back a bit and hopefully hit his point home as he grinned.

"Too much thinkin', darlin'. Thinkin's what'll get you killed out there--that's where you get scared. Don't think it, just do it."

With her thought process brought to a grinding halt by Tom's poke, Ari was a little confused on how to continue before her mind quickly reminded her that if she just kept sitting here, he'd gladly do it again. So, with a nod of her head, she replied "[color=f7976a]Right, thanks Tom.[/color]." She got to her feet and stretched out her muscles, but walked over beside him quickly. The logical bit of her brain, in fact much more than that, 90% of her brain said this was a terrible idea, doomed to fail, but that little instinctive part of her told her it was a grand, glorious idea that could only succeed.

She leaned down and pressed her lips to his cheek, with a half-teasing half-mocking chuckle in the immediate aftermath. She added, seriously "[color=f7976a]Don't go dying on me then, Tom. It'd be a disgrace if you let yourself die on a mission with a rookie, so now you've gotta see the war through to the end.[/color]." Straightening up and taking a step back, now blushing a radiant red, she finished "[color=f7976a]Let's go watch the others beat the unholy shit out of each-other now.[/color]."

What...

What just happened?

Tom didn't blush. As a rule, just about jack-all phased the older pilot, from dead squad members to near death experiences to hundred-pushup demerits, but here was this little miss thing popping him on the cheek and he [i]colored[/i].

Thank God no one else was around to see it.

He'd wanted to walk off with some grizzled old wisdom, something to tie things back down and see if he couldn't get her out of her head, but instead he just started down the hall with the same easy jaunt as ever, trying to ignore the heat in his cheeks.

"Yeah. Let's."