Seriously, we could use some new blood here. Nobody want a bit of adventure with death on the line?
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((With permission from @LetMeDoStuff))
Time had passed.
The train flung towards Amone had been a kind of respite. Though there hadn't been much to do on board, the 15th Atlantic Rifles had spent some time getting re-asserted into themselves, after that first initial shock of war to their system. People like Jean and Lucia and Michael, who had been so heavily affected by their first day - seemed human again instead of walking dead. And though others - like Isaac, for instance - were not so overtly harmed at the time, it's not to say there were no scars. Merely...they bore with it and moved on, because they had to. People handle the dark times in their lives differently, at different rates, or..they do not at all. Isaac was personally glad to see that everyone he had met and grown to like and understand in the 15th could laugh and love their lives again. He knew that they were not fully-recovered, that such a remedy to them all would take years...or never come at all. He was simply glad to see that the delicate thread of sanity had not snapped under pressure for them all. They just had to hang in there and deal with things, one day at a time. 'No task is insurmountable, just requiring the appropriate footwork.' That was something else is father told him.
Isaac wished that someone like his father were in charge, instead of Middleton. Lieu- No, Captain Middleton was just a granite-boned asshole who needed to get his eyes checked. He thought he was talking to hardened soldiers molded from clay to a task, but he didn't see that they were just people - some of them unwilling, some of them aangry, and all of them scared. Even Isaac was scared, in some dark corner of his mind where he kept his common sense. He put it away every time he trained wolves and now when he went to battle. It said 'Forget sense! I need instinct! I have to protect, look after, hunt, kill!'. Putting his mind in that of a canine who was transitioning from the wild thoughts to the trust of a new alpha, a human alpha, was a helpful focus. Hunt, feed, protect - strong emotional responses to times of need. His father trusted in his ability, his way of looking at things, and he did not rush him. The Imperial Army was in a rush. Maybe if the Federation just laid trap after trap, they'd kill themselves instead of getting so many people killed by clashing like deer with gunpowder antlers, everything exploding...
They'd spent so much time, the lot of them, talking and listening to things. Lucia was telling them about an incredible cathedral. Isaac wasn't one for art, but he could appreciate the complexity of architecture, the work and the craftmanship going into things. These massive monoliths built to stand the test of time were suppose to be forever. Kind of sad that a few mortars could end all that. That was the other half of war. The first was the shock and the terror. The last was the sadness and the loss. If someone blew up his farm, they'd rebuild it. The community would help, even. If someone blew up a cathedral, good fucking luck. Things built to last take a long time and alot of money. War cost people so much that you can hardly compile what the Imperials would owe to satisfy the world they were butchering. If they won this, if they beat them, that country might dissolve. Would it be worth it? Would it matter to him, or anyone who isn't a General or a otherwise position of power?
Their time of arrival was soon at hand, and that meant it was time for everybody to pick up their stuff and get going. Isaac made the rounds after Baker had given the order, calling for everybody to do just that, one name at a time. He wasn't hard. He would never be too hard on these guys, just firm. He had to be like his father, authoritive and wise, not shouting and irritating. Wolves do not bark, and hybrids maybe not often or ever. Make your howl known and move on. That was the way. Outside... Well, it was murky, but at least it wasn't raining this time. Isaac didn't like the rain, and after the first day...he doubted anyone else did either. Soon, they were out there and Middleton was coming to address his troops. As soon as he did, though, Isaac's first thought was...
Good lord, he's got one of those officer coats on.
He did, though. Middleton was wearing one of those coats - call 'em trenchcoats or greatcoats - that all the officers had, some of which seemed to be donned specifically to look and feel important, regardless of whether or not anything were truly accorded such. Knowing how the man thought, Isaac was certain that the Captain was definitely on a 'feel important' kick, looking good in front of everybody for all the vain and unnecessary reasons. Middleton started giving off his report and orders. First, it seemed that they were being split into squads. He felt confident that everyone they were with would be concidered reliableand trustworthy by all, and if they did not, then fuck you. He did not SAY that, specifically, but that is what he essentially meant. Jean was in charge of Squad One, and chances are that meant that the people surrounding him now - the people he'd been bonding with on the train - were going to be with him. He and Daniel needed to support Jean, to make sure leadership didn't break him over its knee like dry kindling. Daniel wasn't...extremely supporting. He was rather blunt, which could help or hurt, dependent on the circumstance of things. That didn't sit well with Isaac, but he'd try to manage him, if possible. If the wolf is nipping at your heels, you must dissuade him.
Now uhh...there was another instruction that Middleton had before he left. Before they were to gear up on all the stuff they would need for the day, they needed to go and change their uniforms. What Why? Well, he had to line up and get into the stores area to find out. Once inside...
"So, why are we changing our uniforms, exactly?"
The man handing him his stuff just looked at him and spoke.
"I dunno. Someone thought this was better for fitting in, meshing with then environment, and whatnot."
"We're going into a city, though, and this is...what? Forest? Dry dirt and grass? That doesn't fit in. This does."
He pointed out his own heavy flak vest.
"Where'd you get that, then? It's not standard, is it?"
"My drill sergeant thought I'd earned it. He wanted me to last longer if I got in the way of a few bullets."
"Well, I won't take it from a man what's trying to keep himself alive. That'd be a sin. Put it on over or under or whatever, but you gotta change, same as everyone else."
Over, then. He was sure that this was gonna stick out in the city, whereas his flak vest would make him less visible in the shadows, at least. Middleton's taste in soldier attire was about as bad as his own personal tastes. If they were ambushing troops in the woods, sure, but this was a bad choice. Still, he soon joined everyone else as they started to gather. Prior to marching, Jean wanted to outline the overall plan for them. This, Isaac became extremely attentive towards. He needed to know what it was he was protecting everyone FROM and FOR. Very important stuff. Apparently, they were going to cut off supply tunnels once they got into the city, part of a massive movement to break the seige by piecemeal. A long task...with appropriate footwork...one hoped. However, there were alot of things that would be hard to account for. This was a maze of streets, not a trench war. It would be like playing tag with guns, and it was not funny. Worse, the noise. Fire a gun and it could bring all kinds of attention on you, and you didn't know if it would be friend or foe, or just townspeople trying to stay alive. Jean was right to be worried, and to warn them all. Some of them seemed hopeful, Isaac tried to encourage Lucia's smile with one of his own, because it was a plan, and it sounded like it could work.
At least it's not some glory charge, like last time.
Oh, how Isaac was was going to eat those words later, when he finally worked it out.
The march onwards was long, and Isaac had been mainly focused on how he was going to keep things together once they got moving. He hadn't been thinking of the first part of the plan, about the cavaliers. He thought of tactics and the teachings that his drill sergeant had imprinted on him: The problems of noise and how to deal with them, combat in rooms, dealing with soldiers around corners, being watchful of grenades, silent take-downs, and all that. He suspected that his counterpart, Britta, was the better marksman of the two of them, but he...was probably the better killer. He'd gone through the fullness of training to survive, holding nothing back because he wanted everybody to live. So, he'd been focused on that until the clearance zone, where they had observation of the area and the cavalry.
And then, it hit him.
It hit him like a brick to the face, like the BOOM-BOOM-BOOM of the mortars of Hill 58, when they had to duck and run out of there once it was safe. Cavalry horsemen were going to charge on the weakest points to break the lines? But they weren't armed for the kind of stuff they saw at Hill 58, at all! You couldn't fire guns accurately at full charge! He'd ridden horses! You're bouncing up and down at full gallop, so who could possibly do anything right? Unless they all had machine guns, and they didn't! Isaac realized this with a cold shock overcoming him. If any of them even made it...it would be a miracle. Britta, nearby and behind him, must've come to the same conclusion and grabbed his shoulder as the horses lined up for the charge.
"Isaac-"
"I know."
"But our training-"
"I know..."
"We have to say something."
"No one will hear, or care. They won't stop it."
There was nothing they could do. If they had machine gun nests... Everyone here knew hill 58, but Isaac and Britta had both been trained specifically on the machine gun, in the best ways to strike at a charging enemy. A cavalry charge was just a big target. You could cause great chaos in the ranks of it with the appropriate gunfire. He knew. He knew and he'd simply forgot because of his focus on the mission. Those people were gonna die...they and all those beautiful horses...and he could do nothing to stop it. Isaac looked around, his thoughts turning to...yes, there. A little hard to pick her out in the new uniform with the helmet on, but there she was.
"Lucia, could I have a moment?"
The silver-haired Asseni looked over at him, a quizzical look on her face.
"Yes, Isaac...sir?"
"You don't have to call me sir."
"Okay, what is it?"
"What do you think of this uniform? I don't think it works for me. Looks kind of ugly, don't you think?"
He called her attention away from the field just as the call to charge went up, making conversation and trying to get her engaged with it, all the while counting the seconds towards the inevitable sound of gunfire. She smiled, she even laughed, and Isaac tried to keep it up, himself. He glanced back and saw Britta's head just lowered. The farm boy was just trying to get her to punch his flak vest to feel how solid it was when they both heard it.
Oh god, the noise...the cries...
It was shrill and terrible, the sound of life being lost en masse, not just human but also equine. The look on both of their faces, the horror of it, was palpable. Lucia turned to look at what was going on and Isaac pulled her back, just holding tight at the knowledge of her mounting distress.
"Don't look. Just...don't. It'll be over soon."
He could hear her trying to contain it, but he knew that Lucia must have been in tears, the way she shook at the mere imagination of what was going on. The terror of the war had a stamp on her that was unremoveable. Still, she'd managed her voice through all of this.
"Did...did you know that going to happen...?"
"Yes, I did. I'm a Gunner, so my training... I'm sorry. There's nothing I could do. If it means anything, I know now how you felt back in the trenches."
Orders made her shoot someone while looking them in the eyes. Orders made him stay here - by force, if necessary - to stand there and do nothing about the people that were going to be killed, just killed. There was nothing to be gained from this. They were slaughtered, and it may as well have been his own bullets doing it. Because nobody would have listened and he would have been just hauled away, he was just as powerless to the command as Lucia had been, effectively murdering their own people for nothing. He looked around and saw others trying to keep people from looking directly at it. Jean was focusing a couple of the girls. Michael was calling the sappers to attention. He was doing what he thought best.
"I won't let this happen to any of us. I won't let Middleton sacrifice us like that. I swear I won't..."
PREPARATION
Time had passed.
The train flung towards Amone had been a kind of respite. Though there hadn't been much to do on board, the 15th Atlantic Rifles had spent some time getting re-asserted into themselves, after that first initial shock of war to their system. People like Jean and Lucia and Michael, who had been so heavily affected by their first day - seemed human again instead of walking dead. And though others - like Isaac, for instance - were not so overtly harmed at the time, it's not to say there were no scars. Merely...they bore with it and moved on, because they had to. People handle the dark times in their lives differently, at different rates, or..they do not at all. Isaac was personally glad to see that everyone he had met and grown to like and understand in the 15th could laugh and love their lives again. He knew that they were not fully-recovered, that such a remedy to them all would take years...or never come at all. He was simply glad to see that the delicate thread of sanity had not snapped under pressure for them all. They just had to hang in there and deal with things, one day at a time. 'No task is insurmountable, just requiring the appropriate footwork.' That was something else is father told him.
Isaac wished that someone like his father were in charge, instead of Middleton. Lieu- No, Captain Middleton was just a granite-boned asshole who needed to get his eyes checked. He thought he was talking to hardened soldiers molded from clay to a task, but he didn't see that they were just people - some of them unwilling, some of them aangry, and all of them scared. Even Isaac was scared, in some dark corner of his mind where he kept his common sense. He put it away every time he trained wolves and now when he went to battle. It said 'Forget sense! I need instinct! I have to protect, look after, hunt, kill!'. Putting his mind in that of a canine who was transitioning from the wild thoughts to the trust of a new alpha, a human alpha, was a helpful focus. Hunt, feed, protect - strong emotional responses to times of need. His father trusted in his ability, his way of looking at things, and he did not rush him. The Imperial Army was in a rush. Maybe if the Federation just laid trap after trap, they'd kill themselves instead of getting so many people killed by clashing like deer with gunpowder antlers, everything exploding...
They'd spent so much time, the lot of them, talking and listening to things. Lucia was telling them about an incredible cathedral. Isaac wasn't one for art, but he could appreciate the complexity of architecture, the work and the craftmanship going into things. These massive monoliths built to stand the test of time were suppose to be forever. Kind of sad that a few mortars could end all that. That was the other half of war. The first was the shock and the terror. The last was the sadness and the loss. If someone blew up his farm, they'd rebuild it. The community would help, even. If someone blew up a cathedral, good fucking luck. Things built to last take a long time and alot of money. War cost people so much that you can hardly compile what the Imperials would owe to satisfy the world they were butchering. If they won this, if they beat them, that country might dissolve. Would it be worth it? Would it matter to him, or anyone who isn't a General or a otherwise position of power?
Their time of arrival was soon at hand, and that meant it was time for everybody to pick up their stuff and get going. Isaac made the rounds after Baker had given the order, calling for everybody to do just that, one name at a time. He wasn't hard. He would never be too hard on these guys, just firm. He had to be like his father, authoritive and wise, not shouting and irritating. Wolves do not bark, and hybrids maybe not often or ever. Make your howl known and move on. That was the way. Outside... Well, it was murky, but at least it wasn't raining this time. Isaac didn't like the rain, and after the first day...he doubted anyone else did either. Soon, they were out there and Middleton was coming to address his troops. As soon as he did, though, Isaac's first thought was...
Good lord, he's got one of those officer coats on.
He did, though. Middleton was wearing one of those coats - call 'em trenchcoats or greatcoats - that all the officers had, some of which seemed to be donned specifically to look and feel important, regardless of whether or not anything were truly accorded such. Knowing how the man thought, Isaac was certain that the Captain was definitely on a 'feel important' kick, looking good in front of everybody for all the vain and unnecessary reasons. Middleton started giving off his report and orders. First, it seemed that they were being split into squads. He felt confident that everyone they were with would be concidered reliableand trustworthy by all, and if they did not, then fuck you. He did not SAY that, specifically, but that is what he essentially meant. Jean was in charge of Squad One, and chances are that meant that the people surrounding him now - the people he'd been bonding with on the train - were going to be with him. He and Daniel needed to support Jean, to make sure leadership didn't break him over its knee like dry kindling. Daniel wasn't...extremely supporting. He was rather blunt, which could help or hurt, dependent on the circumstance of things. That didn't sit well with Isaac, but he'd try to manage him, if possible. If the wolf is nipping at your heels, you must dissuade him.
Now uhh...there was another instruction that Middleton had before he left. Before they were to gear up on all the stuff they would need for the day, they needed to go and change their uniforms. What Why? Well, he had to line up and get into the stores area to find out. Once inside...
"So, why are we changing our uniforms, exactly?"
The man handing him his stuff just looked at him and spoke.
"I dunno. Someone thought this was better for fitting in, meshing with then environment, and whatnot."
"We're going into a city, though, and this is...what? Forest? Dry dirt and grass? That doesn't fit in. This does."
He pointed out his own heavy flak vest.
"Where'd you get that, then? It's not standard, is it?"
"My drill sergeant thought I'd earned it. He wanted me to last longer if I got in the way of a few bullets."
"Well, I won't take it from a man what's trying to keep himself alive. That'd be a sin. Put it on over or under or whatever, but you gotta change, same as everyone else."
Over, then. He was sure that this was gonna stick out in the city, whereas his flak vest would make him less visible in the shadows, at least. Middleton's taste in soldier attire was about as bad as his own personal tastes. If they were ambushing troops in the woods, sure, but this was a bad choice. Still, he soon joined everyone else as they started to gather. Prior to marching, Jean wanted to outline the overall plan for them. This, Isaac became extremely attentive towards. He needed to know what it was he was protecting everyone FROM and FOR. Very important stuff. Apparently, they were going to cut off supply tunnels once they got into the city, part of a massive movement to break the seige by piecemeal. A long task...with appropriate footwork...one hoped. However, there were alot of things that would be hard to account for. This was a maze of streets, not a trench war. It would be like playing tag with guns, and it was not funny. Worse, the noise. Fire a gun and it could bring all kinds of attention on you, and you didn't know if it would be friend or foe, or just townspeople trying to stay alive. Jean was right to be worried, and to warn them all. Some of them seemed hopeful, Isaac tried to encourage Lucia's smile with one of his own, because it was a plan, and it sounded like it could work.
At least it's not some glory charge, like last time.
Oh, how Isaac was was going to eat those words later, when he finally worked it out.
CAVALRY CHARGE
The march onwards was long, and Isaac had been mainly focused on how he was going to keep things together once they got moving. He hadn't been thinking of the first part of the plan, about the cavaliers. He thought of tactics and the teachings that his drill sergeant had imprinted on him: The problems of noise and how to deal with them, combat in rooms, dealing with soldiers around corners, being watchful of grenades, silent take-downs, and all that. He suspected that his counterpart, Britta, was the better marksman of the two of them, but he...was probably the better killer. He'd gone through the fullness of training to survive, holding nothing back because he wanted everybody to live. So, he'd been focused on that until the clearance zone, where they had observation of the area and the cavalry.
And then, it hit him.
It hit him like a brick to the face, like the BOOM-BOOM-BOOM of the mortars of Hill 58, when they had to duck and run out of there once it was safe. Cavalry horsemen were going to charge on the weakest points to break the lines? But they weren't armed for the kind of stuff they saw at Hill 58, at all! You couldn't fire guns accurately at full charge! He'd ridden horses! You're bouncing up and down at full gallop, so who could possibly do anything right? Unless they all had machine guns, and they didn't! Isaac realized this with a cold shock overcoming him. If any of them even made it...it would be a miracle. Britta, nearby and behind him, must've come to the same conclusion and grabbed his shoulder as the horses lined up for the charge.
"Isaac-"
"I know."
"But our training-"
"I know..."
"We have to say something."
"No one will hear, or care. They won't stop it."
There was nothing they could do. If they had machine gun nests... Everyone here knew hill 58, but Isaac and Britta had both been trained specifically on the machine gun, in the best ways to strike at a charging enemy. A cavalry charge was just a big target. You could cause great chaos in the ranks of it with the appropriate gunfire. He knew. He knew and he'd simply forgot because of his focus on the mission. Those people were gonna die...they and all those beautiful horses...and he could do nothing to stop it. Isaac looked around, his thoughts turning to...yes, there. A little hard to pick her out in the new uniform with the helmet on, but there she was.
"Lucia, could I have a moment?"
The silver-haired Asseni looked over at him, a quizzical look on her face.
"Yes, Isaac...sir?"
"You don't have to call me sir."
"Okay, what is it?"
"What do you think of this uniform? I don't think it works for me. Looks kind of ugly, don't you think?"
He called her attention away from the field just as the call to charge went up, making conversation and trying to get her engaged with it, all the while counting the seconds towards the inevitable sound of gunfire. She smiled, she even laughed, and Isaac tried to keep it up, himself. He glanced back and saw Britta's head just lowered. The farm boy was just trying to get her to punch his flak vest to feel how solid it was when they both heard it.
Oh god, the noise...the cries...
It was shrill and terrible, the sound of life being lost en masse, not just human but also equine. The look on both of their faces, the horror of it, was palpable. Lucia turned to look at what was going on and Isaac pulled her back, just holding tight at the knowledge of her mounting distress.
"Don't look. Just...don't. It'll be over soon."
He could hear her trying to contain it, but he knew that Lucia must have been in tears, the way she shook at the mere imagination of what was going on. The terror of the war had a stamp on her that was unremoveable. Still, she'd managed her voice through all of this.
"Did...did you know that going to happen...?"
"Yes, I did. I'm a Gunner, so my training... I'm sorry. There's nothing I could do. If it means anything, I know now how you felt back in the trenches."
Orders made her shoot someone while looking them in the eyes. Orders made him stay here - by force, if necessary - to stand there and do nothing about the people that were going to be killed, just killed. There was nothing to be gained from this. They were slaughtered, and it may as well have been his own bullets doing it. Because nobody would have listened and he would have been just hauled away, he was just as powerless to the command as Lucia had been, effectively murdering their own people for nothing. He looked around and saw others trying to keep people from looking directly at it. Jean was focusing a couple of the girls. Michael was calling the sappers to attention. He was doing what he thought best.
"I won't let this happen to any of us. I won't let Middleton sacrifice us like that. I swear I won't..."
((Collab between Letter Bee and FalloutJack))
Flashback, Four Years Ago
Alexander Sky had been initiated in flame, capturing three Denver-Vegas aces and their NCs in just three months of combat and destroying dozens of conventional vehicles. Now, the southernmost reaches of Japan had been reconqured from rebels and their American supporters, and stories of the young Slave-Pilot who had brought Red-Star such glory were spreading among the Chinese forces stationed in Kyushu, where Red-Star had retaken the Nagasaki Burrow and the Corporate assets stationed there. Alexander knew that freedom as a 'Comrade-Pilot' was coming soon, if only he can win more captures or kills.
But despite that, other thoughts occupied his mind. As he was allowed free time to walk the corridors of Fukoka Military Base - Another Red-Star stronghold - Alexander was... Worried. Worried that he might need to see 'The Room' once more. 'The Room' confirmed his loyalty by 'reformatting' his brain, but it also diminished his effectiveness in an NC. But what else to do when he had disloyal thoughts?
Reluctantly, he began to go to where Red-Star's instruments of torment and brainwashing were...
While Alexander had made a name of himself with his expertise, there was talk among both pilots and technician, of things overheard about the human-plus project. Years of work on the new process, and now...they were saying it was nearing completion. You would almost wonder why anyone would go to the trouble, when you could just train up someone - be they slave or comrade - to handle things, but then...this was no ordinary thing. They wanted a pilot that blew all current standards right out of the water, a human being who could not fail. Or even if they DID fail, it would be at a high cost for the enemy.
They never stated who their prime candidate was, but rumor had it that the NC model known as Id was their mech, and rumors of that machine had been flying, as well. Fast, powerful and flight-capable. Those were the words they used, and the pilot would be able to sync incredibly well with that. All of these things would not exactly prepare you for when you happened to...oh say...meet her just in the hall...with a bowl of ice cream.
Terra was, at the moment, absorbed. She didn't have to be, but there were two important facts right now that mattered a great deal. First, she could crank up her enjoyment of things just by thinking it. And second, she was focusing like this because, after having gotten through some recent testing, she needed a break to cool herself down. They were nearly done with calibrations, but there were hormones that she was having a hard time dealing with, at times. This was one outlet, but there were umm...others.
All Alex would see was a black-haired girl dressed in jeans and a short-sleeve shirt.
This young woman was certainly a Comrade-Pilot, Alexander thought. He could see it in the way she carried herself. That and Ice Cream was a rare privilege for Slave-Pilots. So he waited for Terra to come his way, then gave a slight bow before he asked:
"Comrade-Pilot, what brings you here?" He then felt compelled to remind her that, "This Slave-Pilot has been ordered to serve every Comrade any way they know how as long as it does not damage thier ability to fight."
Terra had not been entirely paying attention to her surroundings, of course, yet she wasn't in danger of bumping into things, either. She stopped when Alexander addressed her, her violet eyes shifting focus to find a slave pilot around her age standing there. Her eyes picked out details of her surroundings, not seeing an identifying serial number, then went back to him.
"Which section did I just wander into? And why are you talking in the third-person?"
There was no need to remind her what slave pilots were for. She knew well enough. The only real question was why this one in particular seemed to be drawing attention to himself.
Alexander did not react to her surprise, but answered promptly. "Oh, you are just a few corridors away from 'The Room', Lady Comrade. I was going there to recieve enlightenment anew to shed potentially compromising thoughts. Nevertheless, if you wish to administer punishment and incentive yourself, I am in no position to stop you."
He looked at her, briefly glancing at her face and form. She was beautiful... Just as he was handsome, his natural good looks and athletic build honed by diet and exercise. Alexander nevertheless hoped she would not force him to give... His body, not that it was his own anyway. The boy shuddered involuntarily, then took a step back away from her as he realized what he had done. Was this his end?
You know, it's funny he thought about that, because she actually had used some people that way. Slaves were the easiest to get, since they had to follow her commands, but there were some exceptions. It was these damn raging hormones. They too were stronger than a normal human, just like alot of parts of her, and when puberty set in, she couldn't just tell them to be quiet. It was a new faculty. It needed time to adjust. It was like being a child again, in that sense. Asking someone to go with her was, in essence, stress management, and frankly...some even enjoyed it. Right now, though, Terra was more confused, than anything. It even showed on her face.
"Why would I be wanting to do that? The Room is for modifying dissidents and traitors. You're here without guards, ergo you follow orders. Do you always follow orders that do nothing but harm you? They need more than loyalty in this place. He need careful consideration and cohesive thought. I don't think The Room will do much for one who would head there willingly."
Alexander blinked at that, and said, "But nevertheless, I have errant thoughts; and it is not my choice to refuse to follow orders." A pause, as he smiled slightly. "That said, I can follow a different and more recent set of commands if you are willing to give them."
She thought about this for a second, mildly annoyed by the single-mindedness or the pretense of single-mindedness he was showing. Then, she said...
"Follow me, and tell me what you were thinking."
...before starting to walk off. Had to finish this bowl. It was melting, after all.
A nod as the Slave-Pilot followed behind her, saying, "It is about my old mentor, Cody Ang. He had abandoned the cause and deserted Red-Star forces just last year, and I could not comprehend why." A pause. "I also captured three Pilots these past three months; all of them Denver-Vegas Imperialists. Two were of my own age group, and I feel... Regret and guilt that they are to be broken and used as Slave-Pilots. Should I not feel joy that they would be enlightened by pain to fight beside us in the future?"
This was an issue that hit somewhat close to home Not just because she was a part of Red-Star, mind you, but because she had used pain to enlighten some thick-headed people in the past, herself. They were doing things that were causing unnecessary harm, bullying. Beating the shit out of them tended to stop that. Terra shook her head.
"Slave-Pilots have one goal: To not be slaves anymore. Administering pain is a means of control. In essence, it is to make you more of a slave. These principles are incompatible, especially when you consider that it can affect pilot synchronicity. They don't dare try that on me because everything must be perfect for at least the trial run. Good pilots yield good results. Damaged pilots are erratic and unpredictable. Case in point, your mentor."
Alexander replied, "That makes sense, Lady Comrade. So my mentor was - is - damaged? But he's always been a Comrade; how can he have been damaged?"
She finished her ice cream and just held the bowl now, glancing over at him.
"You mean he was your mentor and you have no idea what problems he had, real or imagined? Maybe his student disappointed him. Or maybe other things..."
She seemed to be considering that, but then she added.
"Oh, and don't call me Lady Comrade. I haven't begun piloting yet. My name is Terra Laedo."
The boy was worked up to a fury, clenching and unclenching his fists as he cried out, facing her with a sweat covered brow, "I would never, ever disappoint Sifu Cody, Terra Laedo!"
Breathing hard, he would add a qualifier, "Not knowingly..."
He then looked down at his feet, his fists only lightly clenched now, "There was news about an airstrike, though, that his superiors ordered on a city being contested by enemy forces. Many of his comrades died there and the civilian population of the town." Alexander then faced her again. "But he would... He should not question orders like that anyway, and he shouldn't have left!"
"Why would anybody stay when you destroy what they want to protect? Pain does not make you happy to kill those of whom you value."
His anger did nothing but keep her wary in case he wanted to lash out, as she placed the bowl upon the ground.
"What is the most important thing in your life, pilot?"
Alexander's gaze firmed and tightened as he said, "My parents. I want to win their freedom and mine."
Terra nodded at this. It was something she could relate to more directly. She had her parents. They were kept around to share in decent living conditions like her and she was able to be raised like a normal human being. They did this...in order to manage her, she believed. Because she loved them, and Red-Star had power over them, they were all basically threatened.
"And if they were to die? What then? What happens when something you care deeply about is taken from you, or that you would be forced to sacrifice that thing, personally?"
The boy pursed his lips, "I am not talking treason."
A slight angle of his head; enough for his eyes to glint with reflected light. It was clear he knew his answer to that and wanted to convey it to Terra with plausible deniability.
Now, she smirked, just a little.
"Well, if you're not talking treason, you couldn't possibly need any pain enlightenment. You understand perfectly what needs to be done."
Alexander smiled widely, and he stretched out his right hand, saying, "You're a smart person, Terra Laedo. Do you want to be friends?"
She crossed her arms a moment as her smirked deepened, and she said...
"Friends have names. It seems unfair that I don't have yours."
A chuckle, as he said, "Alexander Sky, from the Gansu Provincial Breeding Camp. I'm of Volkov pedigree."
He waited for her to shake his hand.
She took his hand and shook it properly, even smiled.
"Terra Laedo, human plus project. I was born to kill everyone."
This was spoken matter-of-factly, completely straight-faced. If they hadn't had the previous conversation, Alex would think her to be some kind of engineered psychopath. But this girl, this experimental pilot, had just helped him understand She was no more telling the truth than his not talking about treachery. Oh...big agendas... The future had ALOT in store...
Flashback, Four Years Ago
Alexander Sky had been initiated in flame, capturing three Denver-Vegas aces and their NCs in just three months of combat and destroying dozens of conventional vehicles. Now, the southernmost reaches of Japan had been reconqured from rebels and their American supporters, and stories of the young Slave-Pilot who had brought Red-Star such glory were spreading among the Chinese forces stationed in Kyushu, where Red-Star had retaken the Nagasaki Burrow and the Corporate assets stationed there. Alexander knew that freedom as a 'Comrade-Pilot' was coming soon, if only he can win more captures or kills.
But despite that, other thoughts occupied his mind. As he was allowed free time to walk the corridors of Fukoka Military Base - Another Red-Star stronghold - Alexander was... Worried. Worried that he might need to see 'The Room' once more. 'The Room' confirmed his loyalty by 'reformatting' his brain, but it also diminished his effectiveness in an NC. But what else to do when he had disloyal thoughts?
Reluctantly, he began to go to where Red-Star's instruments of torment and brainwashing were...
While Alexander had made a name of himself with his expertise, there was talk among both pilots and technician, of things overheard about the human-plus project. Years of work on the new process, and now...they were saying it was nearing completion. You would almost wonder why anyone would go to the trouble, when you could just train up someone - be they slave or comrade - to handle things, but then...this was no ordinary thing. They wanted a pilot that blew all current standards right out of the water, a human being who could not fail. Or even if they DID fail, it would be at a high cost for the enemy.
They never stated who their prime candidate was, but rumor had it that the NC model known as Id was their mech, and rumors of that machine had been flying, as well. Fast, powerful and flight-capable. Those were the words they used, and the pilot would be able to sync incredibly well with that. All of these things would not exactly prepare you for when you happened to...oh say...meet her just in the hall...with a bowl of ice cream.
Terra was, at the moment, absorbed. She didn't have to be, but there were two important facts right now that mattered a great deal. First, she could crank up her enjoyment of things just by thinking it. And second, she was focusing like this because, after having gotten through some recent testing, she needed a break to cool herself down. They were nearly done with calibrations, but there were hormones that she was having a hard time dealing with, at times. This was one outlet, but there were umm...others.
All Alex would see was a black-haired girl dressed in jeans and a short-sleeve shirt.
This young woman was certainly a Comrade-Pilot, Alexander thought. He could see it in the way she carried herself. That and Ice Cream was a rare privilege for Slave-Pilots. So he waited for Terra to come his way, then gave a slight bow before he asked:
"Comrade-Pilot, what brings you here?" He then felt compelled to remind her that, "This Slave-Pilot has been ordered to serve every Comrade any way they know how as long as it does not damage thier ability to fight."
Terra had not been entirely paying attention to her surroundings, of course, yet she wasn't in danger of bumping into things, either. She stopped when Alexander addressed her, her violet eyes shifting focus to find a slave pilot around her age standing there. Her eyes picked out details of her surroundings, not seeing an identifying serial number, then went back to him.
"Which section did I just wander into? And why are you talking in the third-person?"
There was no need to remind her what slave pilots were for. She knew well enough. The only real question was why this one in particular seemed to be drawing attention to himself.
Alexander did not react to her surprise, but answered promptly. "Oh, you are just a few corridors away from 'The Room', Lady Comrade. I was going there to recieve enlightenment anew to shed potentially compromising thoughts. Nevertheless, if you wish to administer punishment and incentive yourself, I am in no position to stop you."
He looked at her, briefly glancing at her face and form. She was beautiful... Just as he was handsome, his natural good looks and athletic build honed by diet and exercise. Alexander nevertheless hoped she would not force him to give... His body, not that it was his own anyway. The boy shuddered involuntarily, then took a step back away from her as he realized what he had done. Was this his end?
You know, it's funny he thought about that, because she actually had used some people that way. Slaves were the easiest to get, since they had to follow her commands, but there were some exceptions. It was these damn raging hormones. They too were stronger than a normal human, just like alot of parts of her, and when puberty set in, she couldn't just tell them to be quiet. It was a new faculty. It needed time to adjust. It was like being a child again, in that sense. Asking someone to go with her was, in essence, stress management, and frankly...some even enjoyed it. Right now, though, Terra was more confused, than anything. It even showed on her face.
"Why would I be wanting to do that? The Room is for modifying dissidents and traitors. You're here without guards, ergo you follow orders. Do you always follow orders that do nothing but harm you? They need more than loyalty in this place. He need careful consideration and cohesive thought. I don't think The Room will do much for one who would head there willingly."
Alexander blinked at that, and said, "But nevertheless, I have errant thoughts; and it is not my choice to refuse to follow orders." A pause, as he smiled slightly. "That said, I can follow a different and more recent set of commands if you are willing to give them."
She thought about this for a second, mildly annoyed by the single-mindedness or the pretense of single-mindedness he was showing. Then, she said...
"Follow me, and tell me what you were thinking."
...before starting to walk off. Had to finish this bowl. It was melting, after all.
A nod as the Slave-Pilot followed behind her, saying, "It is about my old mentor, Cody Ang. He had abandoned the cause and deserted Red-Star forces just last year, and I could not comprehend why." A pause. "I also captured three Pilots these past three months; all of them Denver-Vegas Imperialists. Two were of my own age group, and I feel... Regret and guilt that they are to be broken and used as Slave-Pilots. Should I not feel joy that they would be enlightened by pain to fight beside us in the future?"
This was an issue that hit somewhat close to home Not just because she was a part of Red-Star, mind you, but because she had used pain to enlighten some thick-headed people in the past, herself. They were doing things that were causing unnecessary harm, bullying. Beating the shit out of them tended to stop that. Terra shook her head.
"Slave-Pilots have one goal: To not be slaves anymore. Administering pain is a means of control. In essence, it is to make you more of a slave. These principles are incompatible, especially when you consider that it can affect pilot synchronicity. They don't dare try that on me because everything must be perfect for at least the trial run. Good pilots yield good results. Damaged pilots are erratic and unpredictable. Case in point, your mentor."
Alexander replied, "That makes sense, Lady Comrade. So my mentor was - is - damaged? But he's always been a Comrade; how can he have been damaged?"
She finished her ice cream and just held the bowl now, glancing over at him.
"You mean he was your mentor and you have no idea what problems he had, real or imagined? Maybe his student disappointed him. Or maybe other things..."
She seemed to be considering that, but then she added.
"Oh, and don't call me Lady Comrade. I haven't begun piloting yet. My name is Terra Laedo."
The boy was worked up to a fury, clenching and unclenching his fists as he cried out, facing her with a sweat covered brow, "I would never, ever disappoint Sifu Cody, Terra Laedo!"
Breathing hard, he would add a qualifier, "Not knowingly..."
He then looked down at his feet, his fists only lightly clenched now, "There was news about an airstrike, though, that his superiors ordered on a city being contested by enemy forces. Many of his comrades died there and the civilian population of the town." Alexander then faced her again. "But he would... He should not question orders like that anyway, and he shouldn't have left!"
"Why would anybody stay when you destroy what they want to protect? Pain does not make you happy to kill those of whom you value."
His anger did nothing but keep her wary in case he wanted to lash out, as she placed the bowl upon the ground.
"What is the most important thing in your life, pilot?"
Alexander's gaze firmed and tightened as he said, "My parents. I want to win their freedom and mine."
Terra nodded at this. It was something she could relate to more directly. She had her parents. They were kept around to share in decent living conditions like her and she was able to be raised like a normal human being. They did this...in order to manage her, she believed. Because she loved them, and Red-Star had power over them, they were all basically threatened.
"And if they were to die? What then? What happens when something you care deeply about is taken from you, or that you would be forced to sacrifice that thing, personally?"
The boy pursed his lips, "I am not talking treason."
A slight angle of his head; enough for his eyes to glint with reflected light. It was clear he knew his answer to that and wanted to convey it to Terra with plausible deniability.
Now, she smirked, just a little.
"Well, if you're not talking treason, you couldn't possibly need any pain enlightenment. You understand perfectly what needs to be done."
Alexander smiled widely, and he stretched out his right hand, saying, "You're a smart person, Terra Laedo. Do you want to be friends?"
She crossed her arms a moment as her smirked deepened, and she said...
"Friends have names. It seems unfair that I don't have yours."
A chuckle, as he said, "Alexander Sky, from the Gansu Provincial Breeding Camp. I'm of Volkov pedigree."
He waited for her to shake his hand.
She took his hand and shook it properly, even smiled.
"Terra Laedo, human plus project. I was born to kill everyone."
This was spoken matter-of-factly, completely straight-faced. If they hadn't had the previous conversation, Alex would think her to be some kind of engineered psychopath. But this girl, this experimental pilot, had just helped him understand She was no more telling the truth than his not talking about treachery. Oh...big agendas... The future had ALOT in store...
What corridor? It's an open doorway. Shoot between his legs if you have to.
As soon as Jean said he didn't have to keep her in check, the farm boy gave off a look and a smile like 'You're sure?'. But if Jean didn't want him to and she was actually their senior, then there was really no problem. However, in no way was Isaac gonna believe that...ummm...what was her name again? Baines? He didn't think there was much in the way of strict about her. In fact, the young man was thinking 'I think the were you're looking for about her is 'loose', Jean'., though he wasn't about to say that one out-loud. He also didn't want to say that the crazyness was starting to remind him of the crazy candy girl, Mila. They didn't even get to know anything about her beyond that. Well, not him, anyway. Back on topic, though, Jean was talking about a particular spot on the southern front and...
"Jean, I don't pay attention to the news. My dad reads the paper, but the rest of us would have other things to worry about, work to be done. I wouldn't be able to tell a war hero from just another guy in uniform. I just got dragged into this mess is all."
These people were just people to him, not fancy titles or radio personalities. Chances are, Baines wasn't a hero, just a decent person, and that's all that mattered. Operation: Break-Whatever was just a title for a place where people were fighting again, as per usual. But anyway, Jean was all for getting some diversions - certainly literary ones and whatnot - so that part was going to work out in the end. And then...he told Isaac something that surprised him for a moment: Lucia was going through other people's mail. Jean himself had found out a few things, including that Britta was writing some sort of song. He didn't think that it was horribly wrong. Maybe just a bit wrong, when you consider what Baines did with Jean there with that poem. Oh, but Isaac got such a smirk on his face as he thought of something he could do. Jean must've noticed because before he left to go talk with the real recruits, he asked him not to mention anything about the poem to Kalisa whoever.
"I would never do that to someone who didn't deserve it, Jean. I was raised better than that. You go have fun now. I've got work to do."
He didn't. He really didn't. But it was going to seem like work, the way he played it off. First off, he needed a pad of paper and a pencil. No problem there. Because there wasn't much to do, a dozen of these had been circulated all over. And now, he just began to write, at length, with a serious look on his face. He looked like he was doing work, like writing an official report. This was a cunning lie. No, he was composing something altogether different, which would certainly perk things up a little, around here. Sometimes, you need to invent your own fun. And so, Isaac was idly moving along, making sure not to hit anyone. He was actually nearby Jean as he was addressing people, but his mind was largely on his own work, since Jean was handling things. However, that's when Luke walked up and, after talking with the new short guy, started asking things. He caught Isaac mid-thought, so he was paying attention now. Almost done, though... Jean was still talking to the others. Alright, let's field this one, then.
"I've never had to call anyone that before. Bit of a mouthful. How 'bout 'Luke'? Works for me, at least."
He decided to handle this in a friendly manner. God only knows they'll need all the friends they can get.
"I'm sorry to report, though, that you are exactly where you're suppose to be. The 15th is hunkered down here and I'm even an NCO, to boot."
He quickly finished up what he was writing, folded it up, shoved it in an envelope, and then offered his hand.
"Isaac Black. That's Jean, right there. I don't know where Daniel is. Anyway, we're the Corporals around here. Anyone above that iis presumably busy doing something or other. Any questions, though, no problem answering. Otherwise, find yourself somewhere to take a load off, get some food, and hope for the best when we get to Amone."
It was about then that he noticed that Britta was walking by and he called her over with the envelope held over his head.
"Swamped already, I see."
"Never enough time in a day. Could you take this over to where they're stashing all the other letters for me? I don't see any other Gunners, so no one to coordinate with yet."
He only saw rifles and such on people's backs as they had come in here, so they wouldn't have to determine new and more efficient ways of covering a group like he had with her. Britta nodded at his request and he handed the letter over to her.
"I'll guard it with my life."
"No need for that. It's just personal mail."
Sort of. So, while Isaac was busy talking with Luke and potentially others, the dark-haired Gunner lady headed towards the mail room and asked for whoever was really authorized to go in it at all times to just deposit this one with the rest. And what was that letter, you might ask? Oh, it was actually a cunning little prank Isaac had just thought up, one that he couldn't resist playing. What's that, you say? You wanna read it? By all means...
"Jean, I don't pay attention to the news. My dad reads the paper, but the rest of us would have other things to worry about, work to be done. I wouldn't be able to tell a war hero from just another guy in uniform. I just got dragged into this mess is all."
These people were just people to him, not fancy titles or radio personalities. Chances are, Baines wasn't a hero, just a decent person, and that's all that mattered. Operation: Break-Whatever was just a title for a place where people were fighting again, as per usual. But anyway, Jean was all for getting some diversions - certainly literary ones and whatnot - so that part was going to work out in the end. And then...he told Isaac something that surprised him for a moment: Lucia was going through other people's mail. Jean himself had found out a few things, including that Britta was writing some sort of song. He didn't think that it was horribly wrong. Maybe just a bit wrong, when you consider what Baines did with Jean there with that poem. Oh, but Isaac got such a smirk on his face as he thought of something he could do. Jean must've noticed because before he left to go talk with the real recruits, he asked him not to mention anything about the poem to Kalisa whoever.
"I would never do that to someone who didn't deserve it, Jean. I was raised better than that. You go have fun now. I've got work to do."
He didn't. He really didn't. But it was going to seem like work, the way he played it off. First off, he needed a pad of paper and a pencil. No problem there. Because there wasn't much to do, a dozen of these had been circulated all over. And now, he just began to write, at length, with a serious look on his face. He looked like he was doing work, like writing an official report. This was a cunning lie. No, he was composing something altogether different, which would certainly perk things up a little, around here. Sometimes, you need to invent your own fun. And so, Isaac was idly moving along, making sure not to hit anyone. He was actually nearby Jean as he was addressing people, but his mind was largely on his own work, since Jean was handling things. However, that's when Luke walked up and, after talking with the new short guy, started asking things. He caught Isaac mid-thought, so he was paying attention now. Almost done, though... Jean was still talking to the others. Alright, let's field this one, then.
"I've never had to call anyone that before. Bit of a mouthful. How 'bout 'Luke'? Works for me, at least."
He decided to handle this in a friendly manner. God only knows they'll need all the friends they can get.
"I'm sorry to report, though, that you are exactly where you're suppose to be. The 15th is hunkered down here and I'm even an NCO, to boot."
He quickly finished up what he was writing, folded it up, shoved it in an envelope, and then offered his hand.
"Isaac Black. That's Jean, right there. I don't know where Daniel is. Anyway, we're the Corporals around here. Anyone above that iis presumably busy doing something or other. Any questions, though, no problem answering. Otherwise, find yourself somewhere to take a load off, get some food, and hope for the best when we get to Amone."
It was about then that he noticed that Britta was walking by and he called her over with the envelope held over his head.
"Swamped already, I see."
"Never enough time in a day. Could you take this over to where they're stashing all the other letters for me? I don't see any other Gunners, so no one to coordinate with yet."
He only saw rifles and such on people's backs as they had come in here, so they wouldn't have to determine new and more efficient ways of covering a group like he had with her. Britta nodded at his request and he handed the letter over to her.
"I'll guard it with my life."
"No need for that. It's just personal mail."
Sort of. So, while Isaac was busy talking with Luke and potentially others, the dark-haired Gunner lady headed towards the mail room and asked for whoever was really authorized to go in it at all times to just deposit this one with the rest. And what was that letter, you might ask? Oh, it was actually a cunning little prank Isaac had just thought up, one that he couldn't resist playing. What's that, you say? You wanna read it? By all means...
@UltimoScorp I've received no reply from SimpleWriter on PMs. I must assume they are busy or not RPing anymore.
It was Isaac's opinion, after enough of this, that trains were boring.
Let's break it down from his perspective, just for a moment. He was a farmer, an animal handler. He'd spent his life in wide-open spaces, free to roam anywhere he liked. He made and memorized trails, discovered secret places, got to find all kinds of things. Sometimes, he did this with towns, because they had all kinds of nooks and crannies. When he was taken for recruitment and shoved into a cell, he was miserable and had nothing to do. When he was on a boat to cross the channel, he had a bit more freedom to roam, but not that much. When he was in basic training, he made the MPs earn their keep by trying to duck out of sight for a while, all because he was bored.
So, here he was now. He was in a room, a series of rooms stretched along a moving corridor, and he had nothing to do. He didn't have a book, and he didn't have Jean's penchant for writing or Lucia's...let's assume she'd been sketching pictures, when he saw her with a pad. They hadn't accorded him the basic freedoms to entertain himself when he was recruited, because the word you're really looking for is conscripted, forced, drafted... That left him with few amenities because he hadn't really had many allowed. So, the point of it was that during this train ride, Isaac had spent his time eating, sleeping, talking and such with the others, and looking for different ways to amuse himself.
He had, in fact, gone a bit too far, a couple of times.
You see, he would train the wolves and play a game at the same time, back on the farm. He'd go off and find a place to hide, and he'd wait and see if any of them could find him. The truth is, they always won. Always. Wolf noses are undefeatable. However, it was fun to see how long it would take for them to notice him. This is one thing Isaac attempted to do on this train to keep amused, and those who found him were not very pleased with his presence. His only real excuse for it, when questioned by someone of authority was 'Training exercise'. Technically, it would help. He just wasn't really suppose to do it. And the second thing he wasn't suppose to do was try and get on the roof of the train. He hadn't done it yet, but every now and then, he'd given it some effort.
Right now, though, right this minute...he was at rest. Not necessarily sleepy. He was just at that stage of boredom where he'd decided to just let time go by. He figured it was probably for best before meeting the new additions to the team. When the train came to a halt at a station, he knew - even without opening his eyes - that now was the time of their arrival. Sitting where he was, he began to listen carefully. As the wolves had learned from him the ways of the human world, he had learned to trust his other senses, like they did. Not to say that his nose was any better now than it was in the beginning. He just paid it and his ears a bit more heed, trying to understand more of what they were telling him. Ears worked better, for sure.
Ears made him aware of something funny going on.
There was someone with an unusual accent - at least, it wasn't one that he was use to, not like anybody back in Edinburgh - talking with Jean now. It sounded like she'd swiped his notepad and was reading it. Isaac knew that Jean had been writing something because he thought Isaac had been asleep when he was doing it, yesterday. But he was aware, and this made what he was hearing all the more hilarious. What was it with the outlandish girls that seemed to put a smile on his face? Was it because they didn't act like normal girls? Maybe. Who knows? It was funny, though, especially when the girl started interrogating Jean and shouting out. Isaac continued to listen in. you'd think he wouldn't be able to hear through a closed cabin door, but the fact is...he'd asked Britta to leave it open a crack if she saw it open. She thought it'd be funny to listen in on others a little too, see what they thought about things and handle them appropriately. Nothing underhanded, mind you. Just to see what troubles people and hope to address it. You don't get to be the backbone of a group by osmosis. You have to listen... Right now, Isaac was hearing alot.
My god, she goes on like a mile a minute.
The girl that Jean was talking to seemed to be...well, she was one of the new shocktroopers, Oceanic, and...and...she wasn't to do what to Middleton?! Can anyone even be allowed to think that? Middleton wasn't a man. He was a slab of granite, hoping to become a very famous statue. You can't like that...can you? I mean, there are laws about that sort of thing. Any relationship that should be considered holy and decent must involve two human beings, not a walking pile of shit. And who the fuck was Marathon? Might've heard that name in town a few times, but you can understand why Isaac, of all people, didn't know anything about him. And with that, there was offically too much going on here. Time to get up. Isaac got to his feet and stretched with a minor grunt, because once again Middleton was putting everything on Jean, like he was trying to break him through sheer pressure.
He stepped out as Jean was still talking to...oh, a very cheerful-looking blonde who looked like she had maybe a couple years on both of 'em. Not exactly as working tough as Britta, per se. Maybe even a bit like Diana in the looks department. Somewhere in the middle, perhaps? Maybe. She seemed nice, but Isaac had been listening, and she was very very independent, like stepping-on-a-few-toes independent. Could be handy, later on, but for now it might be best to make sure she wasn't driving Jean over there crazy. She ran off before he got onto the scene in proper. Jean looked properly confused. Isaac didn't blame him.
"I'm not sure I understood half of what was coming out of her mouth, but I take it that's one of our recruits? Should I see about keeping her from messing with everybody's...what?"
He looked past Jean down the hall, spotting Michael there talking with...holy crap.
"Hey, we're getting another short sapper. If they're all like Michael, we could have no trouble with this war at all!"
After all, Michael was a decent guy, so if anyone of his stature in his line of work was any good, they would be having a better time dealing with these battles.
"Oh, and we should probably get someone - NOT Middleton - to see about getting people something to pass the time on these things. Trains are just no fun at all."
Not after all the thrill and majesty of it has worn off, and certainly not during wartime, where it has no glamour at all.
Let's break it down from his perspective, just for a moment. He was a farmer, an animal handler. He'd spent his life in wide-open spaces, free to roam anywhere he liked. He made and memorized trails, discovered secret places, got to find all kinds of things. Sometimes, he did this with towns, because they had all kinds of nooks and crannies. When he was taken for recruitment and shoved into a cell, he was miserable and had nothing to do. When he was on a boat to cross the channel, he had a bit more freedom to roam, but not that much. When he was in basic training, he made the MPs earn their keep by trying to duck out of sight for a while, all because he was bored.
So, here he was now. He was in a room, a series of rooms stretched along a moving corridor, and he had nothing to do. He didn't have a book, and he didn't have Jean's penchant for writing or Lucia's...let's assume she'd been sketching pictures, when he saw her with a pad. They hadn't accorded him the basic freedoms to entertain himself when he was recruited, because the word you're really looking for is conscripted, forced, drafted... That left him with few amenities because he hadn't really had many allowed. So, the point of it was that during this train ride, Isaac had spent his time eating, sleeping, talking and such with the others, and looking for different ways to amuse himself.
He had, in fact, gone a bit too far, a couple of times.
You see, he would train the wolves and play a game at the same time, back on the farm. He'd go off and find a place to hide, and he'd wait and see if any of them could find him. The truth is, they always won. Always. Wolf noses are undefeatable. However, it was fun to see how long it would take for them to notice him. This is one thing Isaac attempted to do on this train to keep amused, and those who found him were not very pleased with his presence. His only real excuse for it, when questioned by someone of authority was 'Training exercise'. Technically, it would help. He just wasn't really suppose to do it. And the second thing he wasn't suppose to do was try and get on the roof of the train. He hadn't done it yet, but every now and then, he'd given it some effort.
Right now, though, right this minute...he was at rest. Not necessarily sleepy. He was just at that stage of boredom where he'd decided to just let time go by. He figured it was probably for best before meeting the new additions to the team. When the train came to a halt at a station, he knew - even without opening his eyes - that now was the time of their arrival. Sitting where he was, he began to listen carefully. As the wolves had learned from him the ways of the human world, he had learned to trust his other senses, like they did. Not to say that his nose was any better now than it was in the beginning. He just paid it and his ears a bit more heed, trying to understand more of what they were telling him. Ears worked better, for sure.
Ears made him aware of something funny going on.
There was someone with an unusual accent - at least, it wasn't one that he was use to, not like anybody back in Edinburgh - talking with Jean now. It sounded like she'd swiped his notepad and was reading it. Isaac knew that Jean had been writing something because he thought Isaac had been asleep when he was doing it, yesterday. But he was aware, and this made what he was hearing all the more hilarious. What was it with the outlandish girls that seemed to put a smile on his face? Was it because they didn't act like normal girls? Maybe. Who knows? It was funny, though, especially when the girl started interrogating Jean and shouting out. Isaac continued to listen in. you'd think he wouldn't be able to hear through a closed cabin door, but the fact is...he'd asked Britta to leave it open a crack if she saw it open. She thought it'd be funny to listen in on others a little too, see what they thought about things and handle them appropriately. Nothing underhanded, mind you. Just to see what troubles people and hope to address it. You don't get to be the backbone of a group by osmosis. You have to listen... Right now, Isaac was hearing alot.
My god, she goes on like a mile a minute.
The girl that Jean was talking to seemed to be...well, she was one of the new shocktroopers, Oceanic, and...and...she wasn't to do what to Middleton?! Can anyone even be allowed to think that? Middleton wasn't a man. He was a slab of granite, hoping to become a very famous statue. You can't like that...can you? I mean, there are laws about that sort of thing. Any relationship that should be considered holy and decent must involve two human beings, not a walking pile of shit. And who the fuck was Marathon? Might've heard that name in town a few times, but you can understand why Isaac, of all people, didn't know anything about him. And with that, there was offically too much going on here. Time to get up. Isaac got to his feet and stretched with a minor grunt, because once again Middleton was putting everything on Jean, like he was trying to break him through sheer pressure.
He stepped out as Jean was still talking to...oh, a very cheerful-looking blonde who looked like she had maybe a couple years on both of 'em. Not exactly as working tough as Britta, per se. Maybe even a bit like Diana in the looks department. Somewhere in the middle, perhaps? Maybe. She seemed nice, but Isaac had been listening, and she was very very independent, like stepping-on-a-few-toes independent. Could be handy, later on, but for now it might be best to make sure she wasn't driving Jean over there crazy. She ran off before he got onto the scene in proper. Jean looked properly confused. Isaac didn't blame him.
"I'm not sure I understood half of what was coming out of her mouth, but I take it that's one of our recruits? Should I see about keeping her from messing with everybody's...what?"
He looked past Jean down the hall, spotting Michael there talking with...holy crap.
"Hey, we're getting another short sapper. If they're all like Michael, we could have no trouble with this war at all!"
After all, Michael was a decent guy, so if anyone of his stature in his line of work was any good, they would be having a better time dealing with these battles.
"Oh, and we should probably get someone - NOT Middleton - to see about getting people something to pass the time on these things. Trains are just no fun at all."
Not after all the thrill and majesty of it has worn off, and certainly not during wartime, where it has no glamour at all.
And now, back by popular demand (Oh, who are we kidding, you know it was coming, anyway)...
Things did not go according to plan. Clearly shaken by her actions, the young boy struggled free from her. The boy then said, " Are you telling me that I wasn't loved? My father doesn't love me?" The child is being brought to tears, as he trys to fight back the urge to ball his eyes out.
Terra was then accosted by horrid sound, a sliver of black emerges from the spectrum of yellow and green. " You're like the people Kuma tells me about, you say anything to make people think you are right! I don't know you, but all you have done is tell me I'm wrong!"
At this point, the boy had his hands curled up in small little balls, as streams if tears make their way down the boy's face.
She was only demonstrating what affection was like. It actually annoyed her that he was making that nasty color, like he'd deliberately made a bad sound to irritate her. Terra watched him for a moment, assessing the problem, and spoke thus:
"Then, I'll introduce myself. My name is Terra Laedo, and I was changed at birth to become better at fighting and killing things. I'm not telling you you're wrong simply out of hand. I'm saying it because I've hit others repeatedly until they beg me to stop. I didn't do it because I liked them. I did it because they were bullying. I don't like that."
The topic being somewhat changed, and the introduction lessens the tension. The sound became more subdued. The boy's smile slightly returned as he replies " your name is Terra? My name is Hibiki, Hibiki Laplace. You hit people as well?" the boy gives a wide innocent smile, as the black sliver forms a twisted face with a frightful smile. "I hit people too, when I play with Kuma. Do they explode into red mist for you? They do for me."
The boy intently waited for her response.
Terra blinked. This was a bit unexpected. If he was saying what she thought he was saying... She shook her head a little.
"I haven't tried hitting anyone hard enough for that. Someone said I broke someone's face, but that's not the same thing. How hard are you hitting when you do that? And who is Kuma?"
She was beginning to think that it wasn't just mad science experiment, switching out pieces of this boy for others. Was he being augmented stronger too?
" Oh ya, you wouldn't know. Kuma is my friend. He tells me things when I'm inside big brother. Kuma doesn't like it when people try to love big brother, and tells me to hit them. So, I do"
The boy responded like nothing was odd about the statement.
There was everything wrong with that statement, and Terra was taking a moment to piece it together. She was pretty sure she understood, though, since she understood what he meant be 'love'. If he was making red mist, then...
"Big brother is a big machine you get inside?"
His aura returned to what it was, and a little gold was tinting the outside of his sound.
" Ya! Big brother is so COOL. He has a big hammer, awesome claws and a tail!"
Hibiki said this with a level of excitement in his voice.
Yeah, she could see that excitement. Terra wasn't exactly as excited, but she knew an NC being used when she heard it. She never really thought of Id like a big toy, but if you were young enough, you might... Ah, they weren't telling him. This was obscene. If he was going to have any real chance of functioning normally at the slightest upset, he needed to be informed now, or the next time someone disturbs his reality in the future, he just won't be able to cope.
"I suppose if I were in my machine, I could turn people into a red mess too. It's what happens when you mash them with a giant fist. Has your father never explained killing people before?"
Hibiki's head turned to the side, "Killing?" he said.
"What do you think we're being made for, Hibiki? You're being put into a big robot and smashing people. I'm going through training to pilot one, myself. We're suppose to fight and kill people."
He perked up for a second, like he finally understood.
"Oh! Do you mean when they disappear and don't come back? But that's fine right? I don't know them, so why is it bad?"
"I'm not sure. It's what Red-Star wants because they have enemies, but I dunno much more than that. But...you have to understand that people you fight in your machine don't love you and you don't love them back. They hate you. They want you to die and it isn't pleasant when you get hurt. I haven't figured this all out yet. It's my mom and dad telling me the difference between things. They don't want me to be confused when I'm told to fight. If you confuse things, you'll get killed yourself, Hibiki."
Hibiki took a moment to digest what Terra has just said.
"Well, if that's true. It's fine. I was built for big brother, and if he goes away... I have no reason to be here. So dieing is not that bad. And and , if I go away, I'm sure big brother would be fine. He is just so cool. But, You know your mom? That's awesome! How is she? What does she like? Can she cook? I never knew my mom, dad said she had to go away after I was born."
"Yes, I know my mom. She's nice and she can cook. She said I should try to avoid dying... They're worried about me all the time. I try to tell them that I'm fine, but they say it's not fine. I have no intention of dying, and you shouldn't think it's fine if you do. That's the point. You can't DO anything if you die. You just waste your life away."
Hibiki, felt the passage of a good amount of time.
"Terra, I better go back before my dad lov...hurts me. I don't mind if I die, really, but you seem to want to not die. I hope you not die Terra."
Hibiki waddled up to Terra and gave her an awkward "hug". Then he scampered off back to the room.
It was only after he left that Terra muttered "I hope you don't either." and started to walk down the hall. She didn't want to be around for Bastion to show off with now. Things just didn't feel right, and she had no intention of letting Hibiki's father near her. If he ever tried, she would break his fingers. Terra continued down the hall, rounded the corner, and then...
"...he still has my baseball."
A Tale of Two that Met in the Past
PART TWO
Things did not go according to plan. Clearly shaken by her actions, the young boy struggled free from her. The boy then said, " Are you telling me that I wasn't loved? My father doesn't love me?" The child is being brought to tears, as he trys to fight back the urge to ball his eyes out.
Terra was then accosted by horrid sound, a sliver of black emerges from the spectrum of yellow and green. " You're like the people Kuma tells me about, you say anything to make people think you are right! I don't know you, but all you have done is tell me I'm wrong!"
At this point, the boy had his hands curled up in small little balls, as streams if tears make their way down the boy's face.
She was only demonstrating what affection was like. It actually annoyed her that he was making that nasty color, like he'd deliberately made a bad sound to irritate her. Terra watched him for a moment, assessing the problem, and spoke thus:
"Then, I'll introduce myself. My name is Terra Laedo, and I was changed at birth to become better at fighting and killing things. I'm not telling you you're wrong simply out of hand. I'm saying it because I've hit others repeatedly until they beg me to stop. I didn't do it because I liked them. I did it because they were bullying. I don't like that."
The topic being somewhat changed, and the introduction lessens the tension. The sound became more subdued. The boy's smile slightly returned as he replies " your name is Terra? My name is Hibiki, Hibiki Laplace. You hit people as well?" the boy gives a wide innocent smile, as the black sliver forms a twisted face with a frightful smile. "I hit people too, when I play with Kuma. Do they explode into red mist for you? They do for me."
The boy intently waited for her response.
Terra blinked. This was a bit unexpected. If he was saying what she thought he was saying... She shook her head a little.
"I haven't tried hitting anyone hard enough for that. Someone said I broke someone's face, but that's not the same thing. How hard are you hitting when you do that? And who is Kuma?"
She was beginning to think that it wasn't just mad science experiment, switching out pieces of this boy for others. Was he being augmented stronger too?
" Oh ya, you wouldn't know. Kuma is my friend. He tells me things when I'm inside big brother. Kuma doesn't like it when people try to love big brother, and tells me to hit them. So, I do"
The boy responded like nothing was odd about the statement.
There was everything wrong with that statement, and Terra was taking a moment to piece it together. She was pretty sure she understood, though, since she understood what he meant be 'love'. If he was making red mist, then...
"Big brother is a big machine you get inside?"
His aura returned to what it was, and a little gold was tinting the outside of his sound.
" Ya! Big brother is so COOL. He has a big hammer, awesome claws and a tail!"
Hibiki said this with a level of excitement in his voice.
Yeah, she could see that excitement. Terra wasn't exactly as excited, but she knew an NC being used when she heard it. She never really thought of Id like a big toy, but if you were young enough, you might... Ah, they weren't telling him. This was obscene. If he was going to have any real chance of functioning normally at the slightest upset, he needed to be informed now, or the next time someone disturbs his reality in the future, he just won't be able to cope.
"I suppose if I were in my machine, I could turn people into a red mess too. It's what happens when you mash them with a giant fist. Has your father never explained killing people before?"
Hibiki's head turned to the side, "Killing?" he said.
"What do you think we're being made for, Hibiki? You're being put into a big robot and smashing people. I'm going through training to pilot one, myself. We're suppose to fight and kill people."
He perked up for a second, like he finally understood.
"Oh! Do you mean when they disappear and don't come back? But that's fine right? I don't know them, so why is it bad?"
"I'm not sure. It's what Red-Star wants because they have enemies, but I dunno much more than that. But...you have to understand that people you fight in your machine don't love you and you don't love them back. They hate you. They want you to die and it isn't pleasant when you get hurt. I haven't figured this all out yet. It's my mom and dad telling me the difference between things. They don't want me to be confused when I'm told to fight. If you confuse things, you'll get killed yourself, Hibiki."
Hibiki took a moment to digest what Terra has just said.
"Well, if that's true. It's fine. I was built for big brother, and if he goes away... I have no reason to be here. So dieing is not that bad. And and , if I go away, I'm sure big brother would be fine. He is just so cool. But, You know your mom? That's awesome! How is she? What does she like? Can she cook? I never knew my mom, dad said she had to go away after I was born."
"Yes, I know my mom. She's nice and she can cook. She said I should try to avoid dying... They're worried about me all the time. I try to tell them that I'm fine, but they say it's not fine. I have no intention of dying, and you shouldn't think it's fine if you do. That's the point. You can't DO anything if you die. You just waste your life away."
Hibiki, felt the passage of a good amount of time.
"Terra, I better go back before my dad lov...hurts me. I don't mind if I die, really, but you seem to want to not die. I hope you not die Terra."
Hibiki waddled up to Terra and gave her an awkward "hug". Then he scampered off back to the room.
It was only after he left that Terra muttered "I hope you don't either." and started to walk down the hall. She didn't want to be around for Bastion to show off with now. Things just didn't feel right, and she had no intention of letting Hibiki's father near her. If he ever tried, she would break his fingers. Terra continued down the hall, rounded the corner, and then...
"...he still has my baseball."
ISAAC BLACK
If there were people who'd be against helping out one of their own who clearly needs that support, then they were wrong. Isaac could understand why Michael said that, but he refused to be detered by it. There was no denying what they clearly had to do, and no placating those who did not want that to happen. It is...what it is.
"'The right thing to do is the right thing to do, no more, no less.' Words from my father. You can't let people stop you from what has to be done when you know it's right."
Michael was not confident, but it wasn't just a matter of that. You worked your hardest to produce results, and these steps would prove effective in easing the pace of the next steps, and those that follow said steps, and so on and so forth. You start small, if you have to, and then you push on outwards. Pretty soon, you have the respect of those who need to hear you and follow your lead. It didn't seem like all that hard a task. Michael was salt-of-the-earth honest, Isaac was respected and dependable, and Jean was... Well, he seemed to have the eyes of several others upon him, two cabins down or so. It was kind of funny. What was he up to now? Diana, Kalisa, Rayna, and Lucia? One could almost be jealous. I mean, was he here now in this men's club because he needed a break? Well, for now, Isaac was working meticulously with his own instrument. Machine guns were a bit more complex than ordinary rifles, after all. His attention perked up when he heard Jean musing about the state of the war and that poet.
"I have to admit, I'd been keeping a little ignorant of the war while I was on the farm. I didn't want to become focused on it, because it wasn't for me or any of my family. We were doing Edinburgh a much-needed service. That was our duty, and our livelyhood. You have to focus on what's important, and food on everybody's table is ours. That, and the wolves. Every generation of wolf-dog has to be nurtured to accept humans as their alpha, their leader. They have to understand that these weird hairless things are their friends, or they'll just be wilf animals to them. I imagine some of ours and any other breeders' went to the army to help out, not just guard property or herd livestock. Even still, I don't like what the war is doing to the land. It'll be a long time before any of these warzones are useable again. The bodies, the upheaval, the equipment lying around...mines..."
Especially, the mines. You think anybody really remembers where they put those things? Isaac was almost-certain he saw some blow up during the charge of Hill 58. That could've been any of them hit by one of those things, crippled for life or dead altogether. Not a pleasant thought. Another one was about what he'd said about the wolves. Knowing what he knew now, he wished he could guarantee that none of the ones he raised were put towards this. Rikes, Ellis, and the rest of the pack deserved better. He did like that Jean seemed to be rapidly improving. It was a good thing, since he was having a dark thought of his own. Jean headed off to go see Baker about...something. That left him, Michael, and Franz alone for an indeterminate while, when...they were pleasantly surprised!
"Lucia? Well, hey there! You're looking better."
Indeed, she was. She was all a'grins and clearly much more relaxed than she had been earlier. This was unexpected, since Isaac almost thought the Asseni girl was gonna be wound-up tighter than his own watch. Maybe she was going to pull through without Middleton turning her into an emotional wreck, after all. In fact, she was being quite friendly. I mean...'Mickey'? You don't get much more familiar than that. It actually made Isaac smirk and chuckle a bit, especially when as the silver-haired girl started climbing over to get an available comfee seat in the cabin.
"This is gonna turn out like one of those films they'd play in town. The funny ones where people trip up over each other."
Indeed, such comedy films by a particular actor/director had been in the biz for about half a year, so we know what we're talking about. It seemed that Lucia was acting in defiance of the higher-ups in reference to whether everyone else should be spoken to or not. Why would Middleton want something like that to occur? That seemed fishy. Or better yet, because Isaac was a farmer and not a fishmonger, that seemed like a load of bullshit. Captain Middleton was playing some sort of game between them and this girl, like she was some sort of uhh...what's the word? Experiment? Yeah, that was it. Even still, right now she was being really nice, even very affectionate. It brought a warmth to the heart and a genuine smile to Isaac's face when she hugged the three of them.
"Hey, we're just as glad that you're alright, Lucia. After all, we know our newly-christened Captain is working you hard, maybe more-so than us."
That said, there was...nah, it couldn't be. I mean, it was good to see the silver-haired girl in better spirits. It's just that... Alright, he didn't want to jinx it, but was this the way you'd normally expect a girl to be after yesterday? It made him wonder, just slightly. Just a little nagging doubt. What if both Lucia and Jean were sort of forcing it, for everyone's sake? He banished the thought, for now. Lucia seemed to be relax, and...possibly an artist. Maybe things would be alright, for now. Isaac hoped so, but he kinda' knew that combat was gonna take its toll on them all again, and silently renewed his pledge to look after them all, especially those that needed looking after the most.
And just when you think it's all over...Britta shows up!
Britta Hagen
It'd taken some doing, particularly alot of arguing with what basically boiled down to a quartermaster for the train's supplies. However, between dropping some logic about those that battle needing to be fed - with the 15th having been dumped onto the battleground without any rations apart from some candy from a Private who was now dead - and a bit of name-dropping about a potentially-angry Jean, Isaac, AND Middleton...she managed to not only managed to get proper ration supplies for the next mission in, but also to spare some food for everybody else. You have to keep the pressure on with some people, and that was how Britta came to be delivering some food to the car containing Diana, Kalisa, and others first...
"Here you are, everyone. Got a little something for everyone. Gotta spread it out a bit now, but I got our rations sorted out properly, at least."
And then, approaching the cabin, she heard the masterfully-transformed Lucia and entered that cabin next.
"Ah, I thought I heard someone else here. No Jean, though. Well, I'll get to him later, so he doesn't starve. Brought a few things for you all."
"Oh...shit, I forgot I was getting on that. Thank you, Britta."
"No problem, Isaac. I figured you'd be distracted."
She meant with gun maintenance, but the way she said it sounded like she was referring to Lucia's presence. Britta even turned to her now.
"Sorry we hadn't met properly before, Lucia. I'm Britta Hagen."
She reached over, past Michael, to offer Lucia her hand to shake after putting down the plate she'd been taking around. Isaac began to laugh again as everything was basically in Michael's face once more.
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