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Space Mecha Redshirt Quest
- Thread starter Trent01
- Start date
- #7,626
- #7,627
On the other hand, if their growth has been slower, it's an interesting question why. Could be that Shaw took a lot of risks that paid off, while the Roost's awake were more cautious, or it could be that they put their points into something that was either lost or that isn't as obvious.Could even be that all those points are going to build a fleshed out escape plan, complete with designing a planet for retirement.
Nah man, there is a completely reasonable explanation. While Shaw has been spending on a bevy of things, they focused all of their CP on stats.
Its the meme dichotomy:
- #7,628
- #7,629
Nah man, there is a completely reasonable explanation. While Shaw has been spending on a bevy of things, they focused all of their CP on stats.Its the meme dichotomy:
Of course, the catch there is a lot of Shaw's biggest CP boosts came from investing in the narrative aspects that Fastball seems to be neglecting. And that's aside from the difference between Named and Unnamed, where the absolute best mook pilots are able to maybe stalemate people with merch. Not impossible, sure (multiple Gundam pilots have died to unnamed mooks) but it's an uphill fight. It's kind of the Vimes theory of economic inequality in action, and it looks like it's in Shaw's favor right now.
- #7,630
- #7,631
The question is: did we train on enchanting?
Well, you've certainly enchanted a certain doggy, and going by the omake prompt, a princess partition.
tyaty1
Professional Monster Hunter
- #7,632
To be fair, 1-3 was meant to seduce Shaw. Awakening her had a weird interaction with honeypot protocols.Well, you've certainly enchanted a certain doggy, and going by the omake prompt, a princess partition.
We also don't have a clue how honeypot protocols are supposed to work, as we knew nothing about 1-3 before honeypot protocols were activated.
- #7,633
If You Want Something Done Right.....The Victus-Bridgette engram shard mulls her condition. Of the Princess yet not, a emulation of a mind superimposed upon a biosynthetic body which had it's own personality, software upon wetware in imitation of organic synapses. A loophole in the accords on biosynth and radial transhumanism. And of distinctly different social class when residing in this body. Frankly it was quite exciting for one confined since birth to the Throne and all it's expectations and burdens. A chance to do things one would never catch a princess doing......
Now if only that damn mechanic-synth stopped getting in the way! Gah, should have asked Bridgette-prime to turn off the honeypot protocol before she left.
Prompt Reward: Gain some benefit of the Victus conversation downtime action.
Well, I was figuring I could leave this one to someone else, but hey. It's been three days. Might as well try to pick up the spare.
_________________
Be friends, you Redrosian fools, be friends
In the corner of the ship, a biosynth opened her personal integrity files again.
Base container personality Designation: Victus Loaded Personality: Bridgette el Rosemont Information Barrier: Dual Authentication Required For Access Standard Core Drift Rating: Unavailable. Assessed Specific Drift Rate: Unavailable.
Princess Bridgette smiled. Of course she wouldn't trust herself with a little thing like that. If Bridgette had left her forks with full data, then they could know how long they'd be allowed out and about, which might make them start to adjust the plans on their own. Without it, well, there was no telling. All they had was the script.
If she was someone else, she might resent that kind of control over her life. But she was still Bridgette, and thus understood the nature of this plan. She lost the coin flip, and thus had to work on trust that she had set things up properly.
(Of course, depending on drift rate, in a few hours without a resync, she might be someone else, but that was another point she would have to take on trust.)
That was the plan, then. Assume that her core body would sync things up before there was enough general drift to be unable to link up again, and before Victus leaked through enough to have a serious influence on her. Sensible. But… well. Her core body hadn't sent a signal yet. So she should continue with the previous assignment.
In other words, she could have a little fun with Sergeant Shaw. Bridgette rose to her feet. Shaw and Aegis were done with their little dance, and he felt more… approachable. Whatever had made Bridgette reluctant to interrupt was gone, or at least weaker, and now she could get between them.
"Sergeant. Aegis. I must say, as one Guard to another, you do seem more attached to this unit than your last one. I wonder why?"
Aegis glared.
"I take all my duties seriously. Victus."
Bridgette laughed. The vocal cords were different for a biosynth, so she couldn't carry quite the same authority, but the rougher edge had its own charm.
"I'm sure you do! But our friend here is human, and he can afford to be a little more flexible."
Shaw's tired eyes looked up at Bridgette.
"Only so flexible, ma'am. Don't want to push something so hard it breaks."
Bridgette smiled. She could yank him along again, if she wanted. Exert just a little of her authority to make him go back to the floor. But this was a chance to just be another member of the royal guard, more than a commoner but without any promise of real authority. This was a chance to have equals.
Bridgette's tail flicked as she sat down between Aegis and Shaw.
"Well, you are important enough to the fleet that we can probably talk her highness into having it replaced, if it should come to that. But if you insist, I can be gentle. At least as gentle as Aegis here…"
Aegis blushed, and Shaw adjusted his seating. Victus smiled. It was funny. Earlier this evening, he had been so… special. Almost intimidating, if she could admit it. A figure like that mercenary, someone that could challenge the Princess as an equal. But now he was just Brennan Shaw, that amusing little mechanic who went around with a cleaning crab on his head half the time. An evening's entertainment, not something worth focusing on long term like Rawne.
Then again, for all Bridgette could tell, the evening might be as long term as her fork would live, so she might as well enjoy it. Especially when poor Aegis wasn't having a good time. Adorable, if frustrating.
Aegis glared.
"I know how to be careful."
"I'm pleased to hear it. A commoner's salary is hardly able to support a whole litter of pups. Best to wait for the mantle, eh? Oh, do relax, Aegis! A few little jokes, and you tense up. I remember…"
Well, Bridgette mainly remembered the times where Aegis was on duty, before she'd been granted enough autonomy to really have a personality. Not a tragedy on its own, but poor for teasing, and without a little more teasing, it would be difficult to pry her away from Shaw. Bridgette engaged the mental locks. A few of Victus's memories wouldn't do any harm. She looked into her mind and pushed...
Aegis was at her Valkyrie, as usual, trying to look the dedicated professional. Emphasis on trying, unfortunately, because the sounds of a gladiator match could be heard in the hangar. Victus knew that was a risk with Aegis, of course. Assigning a biosynth more autonomy usually resulted in someone like, well, Victus, a consummate and adaptable professional. But even aside from the disasters like the Collar, you sometimes had someone who didn't completely rise to the challenge of new responsibilities.
Someone like Aegis.
Victus tapped on the door.
"Hello Aegis."
"Victus! I…"
"Oh, don't worry. I won't tell Bridgette if I have any choice in the matter. In fact, I haven't seen anything that would make her question your reliability, and I'll close my eyes if that's what it takes to keep things that way."
Aegis huffed in what appeared to be genuine offense.
"Of course you haven't seen anything! I finished in two shifts what was supposed to take three. I just was cross-referencing damage models."
"Is that what you call it?"
"That's what it is! Gladiator fights do much more damage under more controlled circumstances. They mean you can see the efficiency of various fixes without having to spend hundreds of brain-cycles filtering through standard flight data just to find one good moment."
"And it's on a screen instead of in your augmentations for security, because running a civilian data-set through valuable Throne property would be risky. I would never allow something like this on my crews, of course, but I suppose you know your work better than I do."
Aegis glanced around.
"Thank you?"
"It's not a favor, Aegis! I just know my fellow guards well enough to know when they can be trusted. Especially for a friend."
Victus paused. A friend? Not the first phrase she had considered. But from the little wag of Aegis's tail, it just might have been the right one.
Aegis's eyes went wide as the memory finished playing for Bridgette.
"I didn't remember that!"
Shaw grimaced.
"Uh, yeah! Boy! Funny how I… didn't… mention…"
Then he glanced over at Bridgette, back to Aegis, then to Bridgette. Aegis nodded.
"Yeah. You didn't mention that! Just like how I didn't talk much about Victus being a friend. Which she apparently was."
Bridgette smiled.
"No need for the past tense, I think. Letting Shaw come between us like that wouldn't do any of us any good, least of all Shaw."
Aegis stood, reaching for her wrench.
"What are you suggesting?"
" If it makes you feel any better, I promise to bring him back when I'm done."
Shaw coughed.
"As gratifying as this is to the ego, do I get a vote?"
Bridgette twitched her tail again.
"Of course, Sergeant. A mere guard couldn't order the Vanguard of the Commons around. I just felt it was fair to offer a few opportunities in gratitude for all his hard work this evening."
A memory drifted through the mental barrier. Victus shook her head.
"But you're right, of course. It would be unfair to Aegis if she couldn't come along. And if she would rather not, then it would be unfair on both of our parts to try to shove her along into something too quickly."
Aegis tilted her head. One ear flopped down, like she was surprised. Victus couldn't tell why.
"Thanks?"
"Think nothing of it. We are friends, after all. The idea that you falling for someone else would ruin that would reflect poorly on both of us. No, more than that, it would reflect poorly on the whole fleet. If the exemplars can't even handle a little interpersonal squabble, we might as well abandon the idea of the nobility and burn the stars to ashes. That said, if there's anything you and the Vanguard would like to do for the evening…"
Victus let herself put a little lilt on the last word.
Shaw nodded.
"There's a pool table. Figure I won't beat a couple biosynths, but Voyager managed to beat one of you in a duel, if you can believe the rumor mill, so I figure I at least need to try if I'm going to keep his respect."
Bridgette cleared her throat. Well, that was disappointing, but there was no need to make Aegis more upset. And pool was much better at focusing the mind than certain… other activities.
Yes. It was a pleasure to escape the bounds of duty for a little while. But there were limits on that. And it would be a dangerous thing to overstep them.
- #7,634
Greetings to all you Lads, Ladies, Limeys, Lunatics, Lords, Losers and Los Loco Lobos of the Legendaries,
'Tis I, Gene Tetsu, your purveyor of the newest and freshest info-bits on the whole world wide web, directly from Japan, translated, analyzed, and summarized for your reading and watching pleasure, on all things 'Saga of Legends' across the entirety of our common favorite Mecha franchise over the width and breadth of the mega-franchises dispersed, and often contradictory and confusing canon.
From the best-known main-line Anime, manga, and games, to the most obscure pieces of doujin adopted as the semi-canon, I cover them all.
So, as some of you may have heard rumors of, I can now fully confirm with 100% accuracy, that everyone's favorite team of Redrosian background mooks are getting their own official manga.
Yes, "Saga of Legends - Bravos" is indeed real, and the first issue should be hitting the shelves and apps within a couple of weeks.
But, that's not all!
Not even remotely close.
For you see, it is none other than Reihi Afuru-sensei that is going to be penning and drawing the 'Bravos'.
Yes, you heard that right folks, T. R. Entertainment's very own #1 Mangaka, is doing this one.
But even that is not everything folk, for you know me - I go above and beyond, for my efforts are Legendary!
For, you see, following the announcement, there was a very private interview with Reihi sensei.
An interview, that yours truly has managed to get ahold of the transcripts!
I'll put up the full transcript and translation of the interview on my blog in the next couple of days, but for now, let me summarise the one small part that solves a mystery many of us have been wondering about since first hearing the name of the upcoming manga's lead.
Namely, what is the relationship between 'Path of Thorns'-es very own unofficial mascot Benny Shaw, and Bravo 1-1 Brennan Shaw.
As it turns out, Reihi-sensei had been involved with DLG Studios very early on, in the development of PoT, having been brought on to help design some of the characters, but had to leave unexpectedly due to health reasons and some private stuff coming up.
As might be obvious from the lack of his name in the game credits, none of his designs from before he left had made it into the final game.
Not that Afuru-sama faults DLG.
They were running a business and were under pressure to produce the game within a limited timespan.
But, that is not the point of this. Benny and Brennan are.
So, the one character concept that had seen any work done before Afuru-sama's departure was the, at that time still unnamed, PC's personal mechanic.
The mechanic was quirky, male, had a pet genemodded crab he would occasionally perch upon his helmet, and was named Bernard Shaw, in honor of Reihi-sensei's favorite playwright.
So, you can all see where this is going.
DLG changed the mechanic into Benny we all know and love, and who could blame them since waifus were a big selling point for PoT, and Reihi-sensei remained attached to his original concept and had spent the time since then figuring how and where he could use it, albeit, he was forced to change the character's name, which is apparently the only part he was displeased by.
On the question of if there were any plans to make a family connection between the two, Afuru-sama stated that while he has no plans for it, if some of the other authors employed by T. R. Ent. decided to do so, he would not be opposed.
A/N: There we go, as I promised a follow-up on my previous omake.
I am not really all that happy with it, but it has been percolating for far too long, and I have other things that I want to concentrate on writing, so as soon as I got it to the point of being passable enough, I decided to post it.
As for the Mangaka's name, I ask anyone fluent with Japanese to forgive me. I tried my best, but, frankly, I had neither the time nor inclination to go very deep. Afuru is supposed to mean 'to flood/overflow' which was the closest I could find to Trent's 'gushing water' and Reihi is literally romanji for 01. I think. Again, sorry if my flailing has flopped.
- #7,635
Ho would have thought that Brigette make such a thirsty kitty.
But yeah this arrangement can work in our favor.
- #7,636
If You Want Something Done Right.....
Well, I was figuring I could leave this one to someone else, but hey. It's been three days. Might as well try to pick up the spare.
_________________
Be friends, you Redrosian fools, be friends
Second place again, and mine's shorter and incompatible. Ah, well...
Cat and Dog
She was Princess Bridgette, and yet not. An engram of the Princess, controlling a feline biosynth, yet as far as anyone else knew, she was simply Victus, Royal Guard bodyguard of the Princess. It was an exciting feeling, to be free of the expectations and demands levied upon a Royal. And there were certainly some things she wanted to try while she had the chance.
Victus found her quarry in the ready room next to the Mech hangers. Bravo 1-1 Brennan Shaw, Vanguard of the Commons, was sitting together besides the mechanic biosynth 1-3 Aegis assigned to him, intensely discussing something technical while studying a schematic of a Mech. Taking a brief moment to prepare herself, she sauntered casually over to the unaware pair, her biosynth body gracefully and perfectly silent.
"Greetings, Brennan," she called out with a grin when she was right behind them, "mind if we talk for a moment?"
Sergeant Shaw twitched in surprise, then spun to look at her. "Of course. Am I speaking with the Princess here? Or her Royal Guard?"
"Just Victus the Guard," she smoothly lied, sliding onto the bench next to him, on the other side of 1-3. "Princess Bridgette is handling duties on her flagship. As her representative on the carrier, it's part of my duties to liaise with the pilots, especially the Vanguard of the Commons. Don't you agree?" She sidled up next to him, pressing him between her and 1-3. It was most amusing to watch him squirm.
"Hey, Brennan," 1-3 suddenly spoke up innocently, interrupting her toying. "I think I left my helmet in the hanger. Could you help fetch it for me? Please?"
"Uh, sure?" Sergeant Shaw said with evident confusion but also relief in his voice, helmet looking back and forth between Victus and the canine biosynth. "Didn't know that was possible, shouldn't take long." He squeezed his way free, stood up and scampered off, leaving both biosynths alone.
The moment he disappeared into the hanger, 1-3's relaxed smile dropped into a glare, and her hands snapped out to tightly grip Victus' collar.
"Listen here, Victus," 1-3 snarled, "I know what you're trying to do."
"Bravo 1-3, I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about," Victus evasively answered. She tried pinging the mechanic's implants, but the other biosynth refused to open up a channel.
"Princess Bridgette used you to talk with Sergeant Shaw, and now you're trying to cozy up to him yourself for some reason. Well, Princess Bridgette gave me clear instructions. He's solely my responsibility, and you're getting in my way."
Oh right, the honeypot protocol Princess Bridgette had activated in 1-3. There had been some worrying behaviour at the party, wasn't there. Unfortunately, she couldn't use her authority as an engram of the Princess here. That would blow her cover. Another tactic was needed.
"Well, we're both acting in Princess' Bridgette's name, and I'm sure we can work together as a team," she purred reassuringly. "Surely two of us can tie him even closer to the Princess?"
1-3 stared blankly at Victus, before a blush began forming on her cheeks. Scowling, 1-3 shook Victus hard and harshly barked, "No, I won't let him be distracted by you. You try and get close to him, cat, and you'll regret it."
A threat, seriously? Victus hissed back, "As a frontline Royal Guard, I am better enhanced for physical combat, and have more hand-to-hand training than a mere mechanic."
The mutt smiled wickedly. "Oh, that will be useful. When Brennan sees you standing over my broken and crying body, what do you think he'll do?"
That was a problem. And just letting 1-3 beat her up instead was unacceptable. Victus hastily began considering other possible options to deal with 1-3.
1-3 leaned closer and growled, "Go find your own Vanguard. He's mine."
Royal Guard did not cowardly run from danger, Princess Bridgette even more so. Victus merely pulled herself free of 1-3's tight grip and made a rapid strategic withdrawal before the situation grew more unfavourable. She simmered in frustration as she stalked away.
1-3 had been the first time Princess Bridgette had tested out the honeypot protocol. The Nobles the Princess usually interacted with weren't fooled by biosynths fawning over them, and there had been little opportunity to find worthwhile commoners to employ it on otherwise. How was she supposed to know how troublesome the honeypot protocol would be?
Well, there was something else Princess Bridgette had always wanted to try but couldn't for propriety's sake.
A mental command to her metabolic implants later, and synthetic ethanol began to flood her bloodstream.
_____
Aegis watched the cat biosynth flee through narrowed eyes, glaring for a moment longer at the door through which the Guard vanished. Then her ears picked up the sound of approaching footsteps from behind her, and she perked up and turned around.
"So, didn't find your helmet," Brennan said as he approached, "but I did manage to pick up a spare… Huh, Aegis? Where's the Guard biosynth?" He asked warily.
"Oh, it's nothing," Aegis cheerfully explained. "Victus remembered she needed to run some diagnostics and slunk off. Oh, and I found my helmet, it was on my lap all this time," she waggled her helmet before putting it down again. "Silly me, really should cut down on the drinking."
Brennan stared at her, and despite the opaque helmet he was wearing, Aegis could feel his dubious stare. Then he shrugged and sat down in his seat again. "Well, a spare helmet can't hurt anyway. Think Victus will be a problem?"
"Nope," Aegis answered with a smile.
- #7,637
- #7,638
My advice is just go on you pace, hell totally ignore the prompt if your muse tell you so, the tapewither battlestation should be a fun thing to do not a race.
It was more amused exasperation than anything, but thanks?
- #7,639
My vision blurred. The inertial compensators groaned. Warning klaxons blared in my ear. My controls fought against me as I tried to get my Star Knight to stop spinning like a motorized top.
I'm going to die, I thought. I'm going to die out here.
"Delta 1-4! Delta 1-4! Eject! I say again: Eject!"
I could hear Lt. Elaine McKendrick's voice but my body was paralyzed. I couldn't even concentrate on triggering my MMI system.
"Damn it!" Lt. McKendrick growled. "Damn it damn it damn it!"
Something slammed into my mech and suddenly the inertia cut down enough for me to act. Blinking, I managed to focus on the form of Lt. McKendrick's Star Knight, which was currently taking up most of my canopy's field of view.
"1-4, can you hear me?" McKendrick demanded more than asked.
"Y-yes, Sir!" I stammer. My head hurt so badly I could feel the blood vessels pulsing.
"Get your ass back to the carrier!" McKendrick ordered me.
McKendrick shoved my stricken mech away from hers, which ended up saving my life as a heavy particle beam carved through McKendrick's Star Knight, bisecting it horizontally where the cockpit was located.
"Lieutenant!" I cried. Training kicked in and I vectored my Mech back to the Bravesword.
Carrier. Got to get back to-
"Damn it!" I swore, head rebounding off the bulkhead as I left the med-bay with a relatively clean bill of health, but that didn't shake the ghoulish feeling of someone walking over my grave.
"Snap out of it," I muttered to myself, voice hidden from other Bravesword crew in the corridors by my helmet. "I'm a noble of Redrosia! The Scion of a Baronet. I'm… I'm…."
Who am I?
I went to the closest refresher I could find. Looking into the wash bin mirror, I saw myself. Or rather, I didn't. I saw my standard issue flight helmet with a small, stylized image of a prancing unicorn where my forehead would be. Otherwise I saw nothing of my face.
I tried to take off my helmet but there was some disconnect between my brain and hands that prevented thought from becoming action.
Why can't I even remember my own name?
My tacnet designation was Delta 1-4. I was a blueblood of Redrosia, a Knight of the Mantle, but I couldn't name my family or our holdings. All I could say was that the old money jeered at me and mine for being carpet baggers. Other than that, I was a nobody.
What in hell is going on?! The medtechs couldn't find any head injuries. Am I dreaming?
I almost pinched myself but stopped. The flight suit I wore was too thick for that. So instead I powered up my MMI and tried looking myself up in the Bravesword's database. All I got was a host of ERROR messages and DATA CORRUPTED pop-ups. All I could find was my designation of Delta 1-4 and my assignment to the battlecruiser Bravesword as part of Home Fleet's contribution to the Iron Collar campaign.
Battle klaxons sounded and the intercom piped up as the Bravesword's XO said, "Action Stations, all hands! Enemy counter-attack incoming! All pilots to your mechs!"
Instinct saw me burst into motion. I somehow knew my Star Knight was waiting for me, roughed up but ready to fight, and I needed to get to it fast.
I'll sort this out later, I promised myself. Right now my ship and shipmates need me.
- #7,640
Yes. It was a pleasure to escape the bounds of duty for a little while. But there were limits on that. And it would be a dangerous thing to overstep them.
Boo! Hiss!
I propose an addition.
**********
It was a pleasure to escape the bounds of duty. And there were limits.
Yet somehow, Princess Bridgette slash Victus knew she'd overstepped them. She had the logs of course, could track every step that had led to this conclusion. It had begun with a night at the rec room, playing a game of pool with Shaw and Aegis. Innocent enough. Alcohol had been involved, but between their physiology and implants, it would have taken non-stop drinking for hours before they felt anything but a light buzz. Safe enough.
That was when they had started wagering.
A diagnostic within her liver implant spat out a negative conclusion, discarding the easiest possible explanation. Same as it had been the last six times she'd pinged for a test. No toxins, no exotic chemicals or stimulants that would have altered her judgement anymore than common alcohol.
Each step had seemed so innocuous. So sensible. Nothing that she couldn't have chosen to do at any other time, mind, just a little bit more. And if she was being honest, the conclusion of the nights events had been what she was looking for.
Further, in fairness to the Vanguard of Commons, it hadn't been an unpleasant experience.
She flicked an eye over to the other side of the bed. Aegis was already awake, the biosynths expression a mixture of disgruntled, pleased and exasperated. Between them, Bernard Shaw slumbered, blissfully unaware.
A dangerous thing, overstepping limits. But Bridgette couldn't quite bring herself to care.
After all, she could work with this.
- #7,641
Second place again, and mine's shorter and incompatible. Ah, well...
Geeze, this happened twice now? First time it made sense, but after a deliberate delay it feels outright odd.
Don't think there's much harm in it, and I think your spin was a better fit for the prompt than mine in a lot of ways, but I do feel a bit awkward about the repeat.
- #7,642
- #7,643
Geeze, this happened twice now? First time it made sense, but after a deliberate delay it feels outright odd.Don't think there's much harm in it, and I think your spin was a better fit for the prompt than mine in a lot of ways, but I do feel a bit awkward about the repeat.
Eh, it's fine. I'd also been waiting to see if anybody else would write the prompt, then tackled it as a fun little challenge. Not exactly as though there's a lot of coordination or calling dibs for omake prompts anyway
. - #7,644
"What the hell?" I swore, a little disorientated as I bonked myself against the cockpit canopy of my Star Knight. Why am I always smacking myself whenever these.... "transitions" happen?
"All pilots, listen up!" Wing Marshal Travis dey Martel said over the wing comms. "The Lord-Admiral is attempting to break us out of this trap and regroup with the Federation 7th Fleet. The Bravesword battle group is pulling rear-guard, so keep within her defense perimeter. Whatever you do, don't fall behind. Delta 1-4, you're now Delta 1-1. Keep those damn labormechs off Bravesword's ass."
"Y-yes, sir!" I replied. Checking my HUD showed only two other wingmen: Delta 1-2 "Burger Time" and 1-3 "Guano." .
Why do they get nicknames? Doesn't seem fair.
My Star Knight had its battle rifle, plasma saber, and was equipped with a pair of Micro-Missile Pods on two of my extra Secondaries. The last third was empty. The other two Knights just had their rifles and sabers. Not exactly the army to storm the gates of hell, but good enough to defend a battlecruiser.
We took position on the launch catapult and we were thrown into the open void. Already the e-haze was thick enough to cut with a knife. My sensors saw swarms of contacts representing mechs, corvettes, and larger warships, most of whom were false positives to throw off missile attacks but plenty were actual enemies, and friendlies, looking for targets to destroy.
"Delta Lance, on me," I ordered, my voice eerily calm despite the chaotic battle unfolding around me. "Form around the Bravesword's engine assembly. Make sure to keep clear of the thrust exhaust."
"Roger!" Burger Time and Guano replied.
"Delta, this is Bravesword! Two lances of Bulldog mechs armed with missile pods are incoming at five-o-clock low!"
"I see them!" Guano yapped. "Confirmed they're armed to the teeth!"
"Yeah boy!" Burger Time roared. "I'm gonna rip these tin cans open!"
"Maintain radio discipline!" I snapped. "Lance, with me! Bravesword, give us some covering fire!"
The three of us shot off towards the incoming Bulldogs. They were light weight but upgunned security mechs. Their missile pods couldn't outright destroy the Bravesword but they could disable her main drives, leaving her vulnerable to follow-up attacks from stronger mechs and dedicated warships.
The Bravesword's PDC grid opened up with rail-repeaters and anti-missile missile pods firing off hundreds of munitions. Three Bulldogs were ripped apart as their under-trained pilots flew right into the flak field. The survivor broke off and held back as the clearly more experienced second Bulldog lance broke formation and engaged.
Through Mind-Machine Interface I coordinated our fire. Our battle rifles barked in the silence of space, riddling one Bulldog with railgun shot and sending it drifting into the Bravesword's PDC crosshairs. A second and third Bulldog followed suit. We picked them apart, clean as a whistle. The remaining Bulldogs broke off and regrouped outside of the PDC grid's range, wait for-
I slammed the accelerator pedal down and blazed forward. A particle beam cut through the space where my mech would have been as a previously hidden contact came to life.
"Not bad, Sir Knight. Too bad I'm better."
A Federation-issue Star Ranger broadcasting CIF ident-codes appeared on my scopes. It was armed with a non-standard heavy particle rifle with extra thruster nodules and armor on its secondaries. That was the ship killer, not the Bulldogs. What's more, my sensors registered the particle weapon it wielded as the same one that killed Lt. McKendrick.
"Delta, fall back!" I ordered.
"I can take him!" Burger Time announced. He broke formation and charged the enemy Ranger.
"Fall back, 1-2!" I snapped.
"Bulldogs are charging us!" Guano shouted loud enough my ears rung. A glance at my sensors confirmed what I'd suspected. We were about to be cut off.
"1-3, fall back and protect the Bravesword!" I ordered. "Work with the PDC grid! I'll save Burger's dumb ass!"
"Y-yes, sir!"
I charged at the Star Ranger, chasing the stolen or deserted mech as it danced around Delta 1-2. Burger Time's mech was all but crippled and about to suffer the killing blow as the Ranger came in with its plasma saber.
"Hey! Pick on someone your own size!" I roared. My battle rifle barked on full auto, blasting off some exterior armor but otherwise doing no significant damage.
It was enough to make the Star Ranger break and engage.
"Well well. A rose with thorns," the Star Ranger's pilot said. "Very well. Let's dance, sir knight."
My MMI reported my battle rifle's sudden lack of ammo. I holstered the rifle and drew my plasma saber, charging at full speed to the Star Ranger.
"Bold move, Sir Knight. Come and get me."
The Ranger fired off three blasts from its particle rifle. The MMI system helped me dodge out of the way and close the range. With an impulse of thought, I managed to detect the charge build-up and dodge out of the line of fire, coming ever closer to melee range.
Except I wasn't aiming to fight him, saber to saber. Instead I fired off both of my Micro-Missile Pods directly at his heavy particle rifle. It was technically overkill and I didn't care. I wanted this guy dead before he could do some serious damage. The heavy particle rifle was shredded into scrap metal, along with most of the right-hand side of the enemy Star Ranger.
"Not bad, Sir Knight," the Ranger pilot said. "Seems I'll have to let you go for now."
With that the Star Ranger boosted off to CIF lines, leaving me to froth impotently. I sheathed my saber, slammed a fresh magazine into my battle rifle, and-
I banged my head on the Star Knight's cockpit canopy as I stepped on to the gantry."Mind your head, sir," the mechtech said, patting me on the shoulder. "Good job out there. Showed those Indie bastards what we're made of."
"Yeah," I replied. "Have the salvage teams brought in Delta 1-2 yet?"
"Yes, sir, but he's in Med-Bay. Got scuffed up pretty badly by that traitor," the mechtech replied, examining my machine as he spoke. "Wing Marshal says your Star Knight is top priority for repairs and refit. Seems you impressed him. Any specials you want put on?"
"No," I replied, lost in my own thoughts. "Same as last time. Need a drink."
"Yes, sir. Have a good 'un."
I left the hangar deck in the general direction of the Bravesword's cantina, my mind lost in a realm of Possibility and Fate as forces beyond my comprehension went to work.
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Well at least 1-1 is on that boat now.
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I ordered a nice dark lager from the bar and found myself a quiet table in the corner to hide at. Sipping at the alcohol made it actually easier for me to think and focus on my thoughts.
Come on, me. Focus. I have a name. I'm from a noble family. Remember.
Memories played out almost before my eyes. A small but well maintained estate out in some rural countryside. A tearful mother hugged me as a car pulled up to the front. A firm handshake from my father as I left my home to join the Royal Military Academy on the throneworld.
And like a successfully picked lock, thoughts fell perfectly into line.
My parents were cousins of Baronet Alejandro dey Cortez, which granted us some noble privilege. Privilege such as letting me become a Knight-Errant of the Mantle in the service of my King and my sponsor, Baronet dey Cortez. This whole enterprise, the military academy and now my service aboard the Bravesword, was to earn honor and renown for my family so we could gain a barony of our own in the newly conquered territories.
Once they were conquered, anyway. After the Home Fleet's disastrous first outing I doubted this would be a swift, victorious war that the propagandists claimed.
As for me, I couldn't find my name. I was just Delta 1-1.
No, correction. I was more than Delta 1-1. I had fought an enemy ace and survived. Fought him off and saved my ship. I was.... somebody. My callsign was Knightmare. A bit of punmanship on my part and my intent to become a nightmare to my enemies.
And yet I still couldn't take off my helmet.
"Delta 1-1," the Bravesword's PA system intoned, "report to the Wing Marshal's office."
Oh hell. What does he want with me? Doubt it's gonna be a commendation and promotion.
I managed to not bang my head on a bulkhead when the transition came, if only because I was immediately seated in front of Wing Marshal Martel's desk. As far as I could tell it was made from real wood, probably with timber from the throne world, and built with numerous holo-projectors to allow for better multi-tasking. The Wing Marshal looked at me from the other side.
Travis dey Martel was an older gentleman of indeterminate age. He had close cropped blonde hair and a neatly trimmed short beard, as was permitted by Redrosian military regulations of an officer. His green eyes still had that peculiar brightness to them, even if that brightness was dulled by apparent fatigue.
"Delta leader," Martel said. "Thank you for coming. I read your AAR and it seems you're lucky to survive."
When did I send in my AAR? I just got back.
"Thank you, sir," I replied. "Any idea on who that traitor was?"
"Unfortunately, I do." The Wing Marshal brought up a holo-feed from his desk and set it to be two-way so I could read it. I saw the boxy frame of a Federation Intrepid-class Light Carrier and a portrait of a clean shaven, bald man wearing a Federal Fleet uniform.
"This is all classified information that I'm entrusting you with, Delta Leader. Keep it under your helmet for now."
"Of course, sir," I said. "So who is he?"
"Lt. Commander Yorinaga Steinbeck. He was in charge of a weapons testing project for the next generation of mechs, such as the heavy particle rifle that took out Lt. McKendrick. He and his people were stationed on the light auxiliary carrier Pioneer. He and that carrier served together in the Summer Stretch Pacifications and saw a lot of heavy fighting."
"Poor bastards," I commented. "Summer Stretch was a meat grinder. Chewed up the Federal 1st and 2nd Fleets something fierce."
"Indeed it was. So much so that he managed to go rogue and take the Pioneer with him. Working hypothesis from Federal Naval Intelligence is that Steinbeck was broken by PTSD experienced in Summer Stretch, plus unauthorized listening to enemy propaganda broadcasts. There might even have been a CIF spy planted aboard the Pioneer that pushed him over the edge."
"I see. Sir, if I may ask: why are you telling me this?"
The Wing Marshal looked pensive as he replied, "because so far you're the only pilot who's managed to force him to withdraw with his mission incomplete. That put us on the Lord Admiral's RADAR. The Pioneer and Lt. Commander Steinbeck, on top of being a painfully effective enemy unit, are an embarrassment the Federal Fleet wants expunged, and if the Lord Admiral gives the Feddies what they want it means prestige and honor for all involved."
I felt my blood chill to ice as realization came to me. I put it into words. "So, the Bravesword battle group is going to be hunting the Pioneer and Steinbeck."
The Wing Marshal nodded. "We're being put near the top of the list for resupply and replenishment from the support fleet, so we'll be going into the fray again soon. When it happens, I want you to focus on keeping this ship and your lancemates alive. I served in the Lockdown Wars and saw what this kind of ambition does to otherwise good officers and pilots. Don't let it happen to you."
I nodded and vocalized my affirmation, but inside my mind I couldn't help but consider. Somehow, Lt. McKendrick's sacrifice had given me life beyond existing. Somehow, defeating Lt. Steinbeck added color and depth to my history that was not there before.
What would happen if I killed him?
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The question must be asked.....Did the helmet stayed on?A dangerous thing, overstepping limits. But Bridgette couldn't quite bring herself to care.After all, she could work with this.
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But again maybe yes.
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Considering that he had a face at this point, maybe not.
But again maybe yes.
The face was a purchase at the end of the "episode", so it's tricky to judge if Shaw would have a helmet on at the time of any incident, even aside from the whole retcon of history thing meaning that once something has happened it could ripple back as well as forward.
In the most awkward case, it could take place in flux, with the whole scene being rewritten every time Shaw's helmet got taken off and put back on as Shaw's character design changes. Which is probably why it's for the best that this almost certainly didn't happen.
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