As the pilots continued to congregate amongst themselves and pick their allies for the upcoming battle, Lora simply remained silent. While she was certain that the team-up idea had some novelty to it, the catch still held that ultimately, on had to come out on top. If they worked in pairs, it meant whichever team took out the competition had to duke it out for the victory. With everyone trying to team up with one another, this was ultimately going to resort in either overlapping teams, or a strange tournament formation in which two teams fought and the winner split and fought again.
From what Lora observed, the chain of deals everyone was offering one another pulled the mass of pilots under one group, sans three people: Yeshua, who seemed to be as quiet and contemplative as she currently was; Miles, who wasn't getting much luck with Koehler or Yeshua (and arguably Lora); and of course, Lora herself, who seemed to be ignored outright by a few of the other pilots. Poor first impressions? With teenagers, even ones raised by war, it was hard to say.
"All personnel, prepare for the start of Operation: Mock Battle. Cadets, your plugsuits are in the changing rooms next to the Framewerk hangars. Suit up, prepare for deployment, and wait for further instructions. System checkups and communications are permitted."
Well, time for their first actual sortie. Lora had a feeling this was going to be more than a little chaotic, and in a case like this, getting pinned down could be punishing. Of course, that was all dependent on who was actually allying with who, which potentially could turn a majority of the fight into a series of various back-stabbings. And what of her, Miles, and Yeshua, who had yet to obviously ally with anyone? Caliburn and the Komodo could certainly each hold their own, but for how long against an established team?
If this plan blows up in my face, I'll never hear the end of it.
The plugsuits were terribly snug, as per standard code. Complaining about something like this was just petty (certainly considering that she didn't exactly have a body to be ashamed of,) but Lora might've done less of it in her history if they just affixed less into her curves.
Not looking to risk flaunting anything, the pilot suited up proper quick and took a brisk, accelerated walk to where her Framewerk rested in the hangar. The novelty never wore off, seeing how damned huge these things were. Though as time passed, it turned into less of, "How the hell did they manage to build a standing machine that big?" and more of, "How the hell did I drive this thing like an actual body?" The answer to both was 'physiological and mechanical science', but to Lora, the matter appeared like something the human mind just couldn't comprehend, even if she had done it times before.
But never mind that, now was the time for action. The engineers gave Lora a brief once-over of the maintenance, and she glossed over it with the assurance everything was working as it was supposed to. Poor form, yes, but this was a mocking of an operation, and the Framewerk certainly hadn't been near or done anything that would put it risk recently. The pilot paced across the catwalk, slid in through the main hatch, and entered the cockpit. In this case, rather, cockpit was something of a relative term.
Lora's controls for Caliburn was a body harness with a small series of buttons and thumbsticks around the hand grips. Most of the capacity for 'auto-pilot' was really just freeing up the pilot's hands for in-cockpit work. The intent was to lend towards pilots better synchronizing with their Frame via actual movement coordination, but much like a ship's maiden voyage, it could very easily sink instead of swim. She strapped herself in, took a moment to get a feel for the harness, performed movement calibrations, all typical procedure in Lora's experience. Recalling her minor plan, Caliburn's pilot flicked a couple of dials on the communications panel, testing the feed and gaining success. Lora located the channel for two particular Frames, and put herself on after a careful breath.
"Miles, Yeshua," she started plainly, but with stern intent, "I'm not going to deny that either of you can hold your own in a firefight. What I will say is that Stukov is the most dangerous. Daemon is equal in power and durability, and if it can even get one frame for support, it'll be unstoppable."
She rolled her head around on her neck to loosen herself up before continuing, "To take down that Frame, one needs to land a single strong decisive blow, something any one of us can do; and one of us has to do, if you want that Frame to go down without taking you with it. Whatever happens before and after him is irrelevant, but when it comes down to that Frame... just keep in mind, you might want backup." It was a flimsy idea of a plan, but Lora garnered the understanding that each of them wanted their own way to go, so she would leave them to that with just a suggestion.
She gave them their time to respond, and filled in her own closure, "What I offer is a suggestion for nothing more than a truce, and not even that." With that, Lora went silent, just letting out controlled breathing and waiting for the launch signal.
Breathe in-... hold... breathe out... breathe in-...
The muted noises ticked and whispered by in some noncommunicable message. She continued the breathing exercise.