[center][img]https://i.postimg.cc/XJX5KsH3/suitgirl-by-beaver-skin-d6xzqzo-fullview.jpg[/img] [H3]Clara / Zoom[/H3] [/center] [i]Meanwhile in the hanger bay...[/i] With her MAS running on external power, Clara began feeding data into her PDA. She was alive. She was unhurt. And that was something. That was enough. The scramble had been something of a disaster she knew. The UEE fleet was in shambles. She wasn't sure she even wanted to know how many casualties there were. The Peregrine had performed well. When it was running that is. Someone had a made a mistake. Someone had made a giant fucking mistake. And that someone had almost gotten her killed in her second combat sortie. She was lucky she hadn't been shot to pieces when her MAS lost all power in the middle of the battle. Fortunately for her, there had been enough active targets for the Coalition MAS to attack than her lifeless MAS drifting silently through space. Numbers, flight parameters danced across her ocular implants, the lenses beaming bright with graphs and figures generated by the Peregrine's onboard AI. The profile for the DA-597 flight boosters could be tweaked. Efficiency at the very edge of maximum thrust could be improved. The AI proposed slight modifications to the Peregrine's generator setting. A modest 1.15% increase in acceleration was nothing to scoff at, Clara thought, looking over the simulations the AI had generated. Satisfied, Clara opened the cockpit, relishing the fresh air that raced into to meet her. She took off her helmet and wiped the layer of sweat plastered across her brow as she climbed out of the Peregrine, slowly making her way down the ladder, and onto the gangway of the Roanoke. "Chief," she said, waving in the direction of head mechanic, one of the mythical Master Chief Petty Officers that inevitably commanded respect from any member of the UEE military. "What did your boys do my MAS?" "Problem, lieutenant?" the Chief said, sauntering over with a hobbled gait. "You could say that," Clara said holding out her data pad to the senior NCO. "Someone didn't follow directions, the breakers weren't installed correctly. Popped a couple mid sortie. Spent the better part of five minutes floating until I could replace them." Low whistle, "You managed to swap them out mid combat?" "Well, it was that or wait for the Coalition MAS to realize I was just drifting without power and finish the job your mechanic started," Clara continued. The Chief frowned, shouting a string of curses and a barely audible name that brought a sheepish looking mechanic out from the shadows. "Private First Class Johansson, care to explain to the lieutenant why you tried to kill her?" "I'm sorry, what, sir?" The chief jabbed the data pad that Clara had handed him into the chest of the unfortunate PFC as Clara shot daggers at younger, too young looking, mechanic with her eyes. "Oh no," the PFC muttered as the correct systems configuration appeared on the screen. "Oh yes, you did an excellent job of making sure that the breakers would pop under any significant power load...it was that or let the power conduits fry themselves," Clara added with a irritated smile. "I'm so sorry!" The fresh-faced mechanic stammered as his face turned an alarm klaxon red. "I thought it was just like a standard MAS. I didn't have time to double check with the Chief. I didn't think you'd sortie so soon after arriving and I barely had time to get your MAS setup before the Coalition hit us." Clara clinched her first listening to the private. Mistakes happened. Mistakes happened when you were sloppy. Mistakes happened when you weren't paying attention. Mistakes happened when you lacked the skill needed for the job. Mistakes killed pilots. Mistakes killed test pilots even faster and left even less of them around for a casket. She didn't have time for her own mistakes and she certainly didn't have time for other people's mistakes. She was already operating on the razor's edge, balancing on the atomically thin margins that the souped up engines and generator of her MAS left her. "How would you suggest Johansson here install the breakers and setup the power conduits in the future? I'm not going to pretend that the systems you people installed made any sense to most of my unit," The Chief interjected rubbing his chin thoughtfully. Gracefully saving Clara from launching into what she expected would probably have been a very loud and very angry rant. "Let me show you," Clara said, grabbing a screwdriver from out of the shirt pocket of the PFC. --- An hour later, Clara stepped away from her MAS and the two mechanics with a fresh layer of sweat covering her. That was the trouble with prototype MAS using state-of-the-art technology modified until it made little sense to all but the most experienced mechanics. She had made it though. She was alive. Her MAS was undamaged, barring some minor scratches. Under the circumstances, particularly considering the Coalition ambush, her first combat sortie in the Peregrine had gone exceedingly well. Speed was life, Clara thought, as she walked out of the hanger.