She would’ve almost liked to stay, move a few hundred meters and ambush the Meteors, but that was just the combat high thinking for her. Before they turned to head for home, Marit managed to coax Archie’s arms into the best approximation of a shrug apology an Archer’s range of motion allowed, a nonverbal “sorry” for the bridge. Between his help on this sortie the fleeing fighter would probably report and Cassandra personally delivering Reya to the capital, Marit couldn’t imagine the lengths one would have to go to to make people think Cassandra was still a neutral party. Assuming that wasn’t a lack of creativity on her part - which admittedly was on the table, even she knew as much - they’d just cost him a detour with their grand finale. As much of a legend a Marauder was in the community, no one had made them fly yet. Well, not the original 75 tonner Jon was piloting, some madlads built a 100 ton version almost two decades ago that could jump, [i]obviously[/i], because overkill is underrated.

[hr]
The adrenaline had hours to wash out of her system, but Marit was still riding the success high when she got out of the cockpit, renewed by the Techs demanding details before they got to work as soon as they learned there were no casualties. Even Rimmer looked happy, a sight so uncanny Marit made haste to make herself scarce for once. As she headed to their barracks to take whatever shower she could get, her gait bore some resemblance to the merry skipping of Jester’s Firestarter. After all, why shouldn’t she be in a good mood? Job well done and everyone was alive, despite some injuries, although she could vividly picture Ingrid holding a military funeral with full honors for the Ostroc’s lost arm, a mental image that only added fuel to her snickering. Maybe paint the new arm to look like it was in a cast, but she decided she wasn’t going to mention that in front of Ingrid just to be on the safe side.

She quickly tried to stifle her giggling as she was passing by Doc Yuri’s office as someone opened the door just as she was going past, with minimal success. Fortunately, Mr. Murphy had been looking elsewhere and it was not the doc. Not that she minded the woman, but getting pulled aside for a psych eval was not on the day’s schedule. If anything, the person in the door was the exact opposite of having to do anything with psychological assessments. [color=76D0FF]”Hey, Ziska! Back in one piece for a change?”[/color] Marit hollered with a broad grin on her face. [color=76D0FF]”You’re awesome by the way, have I told you that? When we liberate a suitable watering hole, remind me I owe you some drinks for today. The TAG was on point.”[/color]