[center][h2]Ziska[/h2][/center]
[hr]
Sparing a moment as she carefully disengaged from the fleeing Crimson Fists, Ziska studied the crumbled form of the enemy RVN-3L with grim satisfaction. The pilot had been unlucky. She didn't fancy the enemy MechWarriors chances in the storm. But they knew the risks. And now they knew the score.

Keying her mic, Ziska finally replied over the encrypted comms, "I'm good, Giggles, thanks for the assistance. You too, Desperado. I'm falling back."

She didn't bother taking any potshots at the enemy light mechs as they faded out of range. Her BattleMech was in no state for more fighting. She was in no state for more fighting. The Colonel's orders were clear, it was time to fall back. She knew they had to pace themselves. Asymmetric warfare was a marathon, not a race, and the Green Knights would have more time to bleed the Crimson Fists dry..

"I always said you'd die on some backwater planet," a deep voice rumbled from the jump seat crammed into a corner of the already cramped RVN-3L cockpit.

"Shut up," Ziska hissed between gritted teeth. She didn't bother to look. She would have recognized the voice anywhere. The smug, Davion military accent. The rolling consonants, laced with the rough pronunciation of a born scumbag. She could feel the flicker of unwelcome neurofeedback. The system was running hot. Reya would be happy. Her modifications to the Guardian ECM system had worked perfectly. However, Ziska doubted Reya would be happy about her BattleMech. Davids, Davids she knew would be furious. The thought of his imminent rage almost made it all worth it. It had been too long since their last argument and subsequent screaming match.

"I'd rather not," the speaker countered, laughing in the old way that Ziska had always hated.

Cursing loudly, Ziska turned, staring daggers at the heavy set man sitting uninvited in her BattleMech,"Get out of my BattleMech, Thomas."

"Don't hate me Tereza," Thrice-Hanged said, raising his hands up, grinning as if that would mollify her. "I'm just the messenger."

"Yeah? And what message is it that you're here to share? ComStar finally looking to pick me up?"

"Ha, I don't think they'd take you. Not anymore. But that's not what I need to tell you-" 

"Shut up, Thomas, I don't want to hear it," Ziska said, waving a hand wearily. "Dead people can't talk. Go away. Leave me alone."

"Ah...How's the head? You hit it harder than you thought, didn't you?"

"I'll live," Ziska fumed, trying to rub the blood out of her left eye. She'd have to bother Doc Yuri. The blood was a pain. The pain was more pain. Ziska felt a pang of annoyance. She felt tired. It wasn't the time to sleep. She had to keep moving.

"Stay awake, Tereza. You're not much use unconscious," Thomas chided. "Kinda fucked up though, isn't it? You're talking to a dead man. To a ghost. You're losing it."

"I'm not," Ziska chafed, remembering Family Man's screaming. 

"Systems running hot. Neurofeedback. Head wound. You're just noise. Nothing more," Ziska continued, willing herself to believe it.

"You tell yourself that, Tereza. Tell yourself that this conversation isn't happening. Remind yourself that you don't believe in any of this crap anyways."

"I don't," Ziska said, nodding. "You were always the one blabbering about Blake's infinite mercy. But please, spare me the preaching, it was bad enough when you were alive. Go away, Thomas, please."

"If only you knew," Thrice-Hanged said, his voice suddenly low and sad. "However, I can't leave, not yet, I still have matter to discuss with you."

"I'm not talking. I'm not talking to anyone," Ziska countered. "You're not here. You're not real. And if you are. Well, then I'm going to kill you again. I'm going to kill you again. And again. And again. I'll kill you as many times as I have to until you finally leave me alone."

"You didn't kill me the first time," Thomas chuckled.

"Well, it's the thought that counts isn't it? Not my fault that the Davion pirate hunters beat me to the punch."

"Ha, you were planning to kill me? For shame, Ziska, and here I thought that were were-"

"Of course," Ziska interrupted, letting out a low bitter laugh. "You were losing it. You were going to get us all killed. A mad dog gets put down, Thomas, you know that."

"Aye, I always told you that."

"You did. You always did. You fucked up. You fucked it all up, Thrice-Hanged. And now. Now I'm here. And you're...you're still dead."

"You got a plan?"

"Colonel does, I suspect, maybe the others too. I'm just doing what I do best. Surviving. Killing. You know, the usual."

"Intimately," Thrice-Hanged cheerfully agreed and Ziska could feel his smile burning across the air between them.