CMDR SAGAN "VULTURE" KODOS
They sat in the crew chief's office in the corner of the hangar, sipping sodas. It would have been booze and smokes, but it was still on-duty hours. That, and both of them knew one of them in here could be deploying at any time within the next seventy-two hours.
"Well, sir, it'd look a damn sight better last tour." Came the chief's response, to which Sagan sighed, removing his ever-present, non-regulation shades to pinch his brow.
"Was afraid of that. Can guess why too, between all the custom and limited production models.""You said it, sir. Not me." Chief Gunns threw his hands up with a grin. "Let's see...obvious ones first: you're fine, we all know you're just gonna do that Vulture shit anyways. Laurent and von Brandt're good, they're piloting models close enough to production standard. We've got the specs recorded for the Sparrowhawk's tuning and the Secutor doesn't need anything fancier than more armor. Vess's Blackout is dicier: legs have to be custom spec. If she has to get shot, tell her to take it in the arms. Virtanen's Griffin's fine, we got enough spare parts. Now, as for the elephants in the room..."
"God damn nepo baby shit." Sagan finished for him, grumbling.
"Dunno what's worse, Commie's new crotch rocket, which he's halfway to burning out already on training manuevers, or the new kid's fucking Venator. Which defense industry contact did his daddy blow to score that?""Can't deny it'll kick ass, Commander."
"If some Coalie doesn't core it. New meat hasn't seen a minute of real battle yet. He manages to total his ride and live, he's going in a Sentry-""General Quarters, General Quarters. All hands to battle stations. I repeat: General Quarters. General Quarters...""And here we go. Keep the hanger crew prepped, Chief. It'd take the baby Space Jesus Himself for us to make it outta this coming furball with all our mechs intact.""Will do, Commander. Happy hunting out there."
___
> Confirming Pilot Assignment: CMDR SAGAN KODOS
> ...Pilot Confirmed
> Initializing systems...Well. At least it looked like all that drilling he'd done for the squad to go from rack to cockpit in ninety seconds had paid off. Damn near everyone seemed to be on time.
> Reactor: Online_
> Life Support: Online_
> Shield Generator: Online_
> Weapon Systems: Online_"Hah! Fuck you Hex!""DAMMIT!"Sagan took a second to take a deep breath, close his eyes, and think of the pension. Space Christ on a crutch, would it kill them to at least use private channels? He opened his eyes again, proceeding with final checks and startup while cueing his comms.
> All Calibrations Complete
> All Systems Nominal
> Standby for LaunchAll systems green. He radioed flight control first.
<< Tower, Vulture. Green to go, moving to launch. >> Next, squad comms.
<< Alright, boys and girls: this is your commander speaking. Sit down and raise your hand if you want to go to the bathroom, because class is starting. We had the briefing yesterday, but guess what? You're still gonna have to listen to me yammer on before we launch. High Command, in their infinite wisdom, has decided to send special ops units straight into the goddamn grinder. Most of you are familiar with furballs. A couple of you ain't. Few words of advice: stick with the rest of the squad. We watch each other's backs and fight smart, we'll break through. Try to be a hero in this shitpile, you're gonna die. That's why the rest of us're trying to make sure you don't. >><< Now, those of you who ain't given green lights yet, sound off! I want us in vacuum while the Coalies're still shitting themselves from the alarm! >>
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