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Tap. Tap. Tap.

The sound of Commander Michael Graham’s fingers hitting the surface of his desk in his office echoed in the otherwise silent room. He had been thinking. Since being hired by New Anchorage to pick up where the previous commander left off there had been a pretty large adjustment period and there was still a lot of work to be done. Graham’s first day as the newly elected commander of New Anchorage’s NC facilities had been the most disheartening day in his entire career as a military commander; the base had been in shambles, disorganized, barely functioning, filled with barely any NC-able pilots, and with a sentiment of a casual existence that made him sick to his stomach. When he had heard that New Anchorage needed someone of his skillset and expertise he thought he was going into something that was at least semi-professional— but that had not been the case.

Even after all of the weeks of restructuring, discharging, analyzing, and coordinating there was still a lot to be done. He still needed new pilots to make a functional assault force, he needed to test any civilians for NC potential, organized the current pilots in physical assessments beyond simulation, and needed to train the non-NC capable officers. He knew he could at least check one of these off the list as a group of tested NC pilots were told to be “on the way” by his boss, New Anchorage’s government. But even with that relief he had to wonder who would be stupid enough to come work for an independent faction with as shit reputation as New Anchorage’s— they would’ve had to been as desperate as he had been.

Graham looked over to the glass of liquor next to him. There was a consideration before he shook his head. No, not now. Clarity is more important than anxiety relief.

His eyes moved back to the hue of his computer screen.

Dr. James Lofgren’s report of yesterday’s simulation was pretty clear. The NC analyst had set a simulation for two of the remaining pilots from Sophia’s administration, Anastasia “Stein” Kalfox and Elizabeth “Eli” Jackspar, in response to Graham’s request for recent reports of their abilities as well as the real meaning of the scenario— their psychological states. The report as it stood showed good combat stats, especially considering that James had a habit of “tweaking” their scenarios; however their reactions mentally and physically to the simulation were out of standard for both of them. Eli’s problems made some sense, but Stein’s? Anastasia Kalfox had been doing simulations like she had since she was ten if her dossier was accurate, so the idea that she considered a win scenario as a failure was concerning.

He had talked to both of them following the simulation, and re-reading the report gave some context to their responses. But that still didn’t give him a quality of answer he wanted. What exactly could have brought such a thing?

There was a pause in Graham’s thought before he moved his hand to his ear, flipped a switch on his codec.

“Alvarez. When are the new run of pilots arriving today?”

Matthew Alvarez had been the most helpful members of the operation that had stayed on when Graham had taken charge following Sophia’s sudden resignation and disappearance. The operations administrator had been his window to how things had worked and everything that had happened since Smith’s Rest became New Anchorage. It also helped that he had formerly been Sophia’s second-in-command despite being an adjutant with no “real” military experience. Before the name change of the settlement they had been a bookkeeper for their NC operations and a bit of a desk clerk. It was fortunate that he was one of the best adjutants Graham had worked with when it came to dossiers, base information, and base functionality— he was like a human computer. Graham doubted he would’ve gotten things straight as fast as he did without him.

[“At 1200 hours, sir.”]

Graham looked at the clock on his computer— that was sixty minutes from the current time. “Very well, that’s all.”

[“Affirmative, sir.”]

Leaning back in his chair, Graham took a light breath. New Anchorage was a mess, but at least it was far better than when he arrived. He wanted to give no false appearance of the operation being a casualty of complacency; there would be no rookie mistakes. With the new pilots arriving he needed to be prepared and while he wasn’t seeking to impress a bunch of edged-out mercenaries and over-eager idealistic kids he did want things to fall into cohesion. A military operation like this needed to be a well-oiled machine. And considering he was getting the cogs, he believed he had everything else to get them started.

When they arrived he would treat it like any other operation with new recruits— familiarize them with the base, key military officers, and then see if they agree to his terms. Graham wasn’t exactly running a corporate military organization but he did need to instill mandatory routines to get things into shape. Graham also had a few meetings to look forward to with other hires but the pilots came first; it was why he prioritized them. And after all that was done he could see about getting in contact with his sources from the last fifteen plus years of his life to see what kind of contracts they could deal with. He didn’t need to get in-between the ruling corporations right now and as long as the contracts didn’t interfere with corporate policies or make New Anchorage quick enemies he could work with anybody.

He pushed back up from his chair as he routed his codec to the base’s speakers as he had done when he had decided on announcements.

“This is Commander Graham. I know many of you are still adjusting to the change in military administration, but the new pilots will be arriving within the hour and I need things to be in order. I want all personnel to look busy by that point. I will be reassigning the NC squadron sometime following the acquisition of these new pilots. Thank you.”

That should do it.

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It was still a long way to New Anchorage for the occupants of the URTU-07 tram.

As one of the few transit trams commissioned to run all the way from New Anchorage to Santuário, and as one of the few transit trams commissioned to run all the way from New Anchorage to Santuário, it was URTU-07’s job to ensure safe and fast travel throughout the Americas and due to several complications it was far more convenient to travel by tram— and less expensive than traveling by air. A sentiment that was shared with a cargo of over half-a-dozen NC’s and the pilots who were off to find their next job. A job that seemed to be one of the last “free” territories in the frozen tundra of what used to be known as Alaska.

Alexander Sky was just one of those pilots. But he wasn’t going there for a simple paycheck… he was going there for other reasons.

Alexander sat attentively in his seat inside the tram, not bothered at all by the cramped conditions; all arriving pilots had to share the same passenger car, and while they weren't barred from moving around the train, it was frowned upon. As far as he could tell, New Anchorage's recent crop of recruits, and his potential teammates, were sitting all on the same bank of seats that faced a set of too-large windows that let in too much glare; or they would had the windows been kept pristine, but many were clouded with splatter of dust and mud. Thankfully, Alexander had chosen someone who was a possible conversationalist. He thought he saw him trying to chat up some of the receptionists or secretaries— to sit next to.

If only that Ponytailed Guy would come back from his restroom trip... which, he soon did, as evidenced by a watery whirling noise and running water which ended a few moments later. Coming out of the lavatory, a taller yet somewhat lanky younger man shambled out. His eyes were a little dulled as far as Alex could tell, but by noticing the way he moved it didn't appear he was unaware of his surroundings. This man in particular was Joshua Ray, one of the pilots Alexander had been itching to talk to. As Joshua took a seat next to him with his eyes glued to the crud-covered windows adjacent, Alex could feel like this was finally the chance to have that conversation he wanted.

"Hello there, you up for a talk?" Alexander looked to his right. "Just want to know who I'd be working with later on."

Seemingly mildly surprised, Joshua looked over and responded with a simple, "Uhh... okay?"

He fidgeted in his seat a little to then focus his own attention towards his compatriot. "..'sup?"

"Why New Anchorage? Considering what the rumors and news say, it's not really that profitable, and it's made more than a few enemies. I mean, I know why I want to go there, but well, not everyone shares the desire for...something better." Alexander sighed, cupping his chin with his right hand.

Looking back at the skies, Joshua went over each and every faint star that shown even during the day. Unlike before the great destruction, light pollution was effectively nonexistant these days, letting people who cared, like Ray, look at the world above his own and see the sky clearly whenever he wanted. Joshua smiled a little as his eyes wandered from light to light as he replied to the question. "It was either that or fade into obscurity. I'm.. not that great of a fighter I guess, so ganging up with some other guys seemed like the best choice. New Anchorage was hiring, and, well, here I am."

"Y'ever just look up? Y'know, really look up?" Joshua paused before continuing, "The skies are particularly luminous today. I don't meet many other people who like looking at the skies, for fun anyway."

Alexander did as Joshua instructed, looking, and smiling, at the skies.

"I'd feel happy gazing at the sky, but, well, I don't feel worthy, worthy to hold my head up high; look straight up. I've committed too many sins to be someone who deserves, well, hope, the hope that the stars represent." Only twenty-four years old and feeling a burden of guilt already. What could this young man have done?

Joshua gave his thoughts on that matter. "I dunno about you but... to me the whole point of looking up there is to see that, y'know, ultimately... do we really matter, except to ourselves? There's so many points of light up there. Stars.. you know that's what they're called already."

"Of course, in our short existences we think we're so unique, but how can we be so sure? For all we know some of those lights could be other.. ourselves. Clutches of 'Humanity' that stretch across the sky..."

Joshua raised his hand on the glass a little, just above his own head. "It's.. so teasing to me. The cosmos are just above our heads, are they not? We can reach for them but we can never hold them. Yet I can't escape the feeling that whatever's out there can cusp us in its own hands... It's oddly reassuring."

Alexander smiled. "I don't have much faith in anything except that which humanity can achieve, but I do believe that there's a cosmic force out there; it just doesn't interfere, so that we can make our own decisions, for good or for ill. I also believe this, that whoever is behind this universe isn't actively malicious, which gives us...hope, hope that we can make a world where our children- metaphorical and literal -can have a better world than their parents."

"Y'know, makes me wonder. What if you're wrong and we were meant to die?"

What felt like a few awkward minutes passed until Joshua simply laughed. "Yeah, right. I think that's enough navel gazing though, so what's your name? I'm Joshua Ray, pilot and plugee to the 'Apollo Heavy' Neural Combatant. You've probably never heard of it. You yourself?"

"Alexander Sky. Pilot of the Phoenix. I used to work for Red-Star." And by that he meant that he was a slave to them; and not merely that, but if Ray had taken jobs for Red-Star before, he would've heard rumors of a mildly famous pilot with a penchant for tearing off the weapons of enemy NCs so that they could be disabled and following that, captured; and it was no secret that the resulting torture and enslavement from said capture was vicious, especially from Red-Star. In fact, it had earned Alexander the nicknames of 'Slaver-Slave', and 'Slaving-Slave' by enemy pilots.

Joshua looked towards the sky once more. "Yeah, I heard about you." Ray sighed a bit as he went to mumble something. Speaking a bit louder, it seemed that knowing his 'friend' was an apparent slaver pushed a button, making his demeanor change for the worse. "Did... did you like it? Did it 'satisfy' you? Does it scratch an itch, or...?"

"If I were proud of what I did, I wouldn't be on this train with you." Alexander said firmly, his tone bitter. "And if I were trying to run away from what I was, I would be asking you for booze right now. But instead I'm going to New Anchorage, because it's a chance at redemption, a chance to protect innocents, and a chance to make up for what I did. That's why I'm on this tram." The final notes in Alexander's tone were that of challenge.

"You sure like being on the darker side of things. Wouldn't expect much different from a man such as yourself... if I'd even call you one." Ray rolled his eyes before going back to his skywatching.

"I hope you're honest."

"I'll take it as a chance, then." spoke Alexander, who then gazed at the skies sadly. "You know, I just want friends, friends whom I can be free with."

"...Don't we all?"



"True." Alexander said as he gazed up the sky. "Actually, one more thing..." his voice turned to a whisper.

"There's a sixteen year old here, judging from the height; the first pilot I doomed to a life of slavery, and the first one who eventually died, he was the same age."Alexander's lips pursed.

"I want to protect the boy we have here, as part of my making up for what I did."

"You really love talking about your sins, don't you?", Ray said, "What you did is disgusting but if you really want to move on, then just do it already. If you're really so enamored with the thought of making a better you, then shut up about the past and look towards the future!" Unwittingly, Joshua raised his voice as if he was giving a speech, noting it too late and smiling sheepishly to the rest of the tram's occupants.

"Uhh, yeah." He continued, "What I said still stands. I've heard enough, if you still want to talk, talk about your hopes?"

Ray silently scoffed. "Tell me something I don't know."

A smile from Alexander; was Ray giving him a chance to be friends? If so, he would take it with both hands. "I want a better world. It does not have to be today or tomorrow or even the foreseeable future, but I want a world of green fields, lush forests, and people living happily, without having to care about corporations, brigands, and mutated wildlife. I want people to focus on things other than dying and avoiding dying, and, furthermore, for each and every individual to matter."

"As for myself, what I said stands too; I want friends. I want...a family. I want a home to call my own, and I want children who would have a better life than I myself lived."

“Aren’t you quite the idealistic young man?” A quiet chuckle came from a man next to the two who had been, unbeknownst to them, leaning against the window listening to their conversation with one ear open. By all appearances the man was… different. Whilst he was older than both of the pilots, he was also obviously far more suited to a different passenger car due to his ragged yet higher end suit that had colors of ebony. However he wasn't in anothr car, he was riding in this one, the one devoted to the last stop of the line— New Anchorage. Just like them.

"And... who are you? One of 'us' I presume, but..?"

Ray immediately questioned the man, after looking him over a bit. By his voice he was a bit scared and surprised, leaning a bit back towards Alex, presumably instinctively for some sort of protection. His eyes quickly scanned over the man, attempting to single out any sorts of weapons, tools, or specific features to bring this man's identity to mind. As far as he could tell was that beyond the suit-bearing man’s attire it was clear that he had been weathered by some experience. He wasn’t as prim and proper as he sounded and his hair was matted back yet disheveled. Looking over his entire appearance there were no discernible weapons outside for a jacket holster for a handgun— a handgun Ray couldn’t make out due to the suit jacket the man wore. That aside, he did give off a presence of confidence— he wasn’t afraid of either of the younger more athletic men in front of him. Not one bit.

A pleasant chuckle left the suit's lips, “Just another aspiring employee, my young friend.”

As Ray began conversation with the man, Alex on the other hand tried to understand why a feeling of dread had just overtaken him. Perhaps it was his paranoia from his past following him, but he found himself also scanning the suited man to get some kind of clue about their identity. Surely his time in Red Star could’ve helped him out just this once? He had seen a lot of people in the last few years and known quite the bit of mannerisms, voices, and appearances. There had to be something. If this man did resemble someone he actually did know… they were in trouble.

“It is so nice to see the youth looking optimistically towards their future— and the more ruthless of us trying to redeem their path in life. It brings hope for our time.” The suited man paused, “I’m sorry, I must be intruding on your private conversation. I’m a bit of a nosy nelly— I believe that’s the old world phrase.”

The more ruthless of us?! – Shit. Alexander hated this precedent right out of the door; the suited man knew who he was but he didn’t have a clue about him. Alex nodded as he followed the conversation but his nerves were flaring and he could tell Joshua was getting nervous about the conversation as well. He was spooked. ”Let him kill me. Let him kill me, but I hope I didn't bring down his wrath upon anyone innocent…”

"Uhh... yeah okay." Joshua audibly mumbled towards this suited man. "So... uhh..., y'know... who are you?"

The thinner pilot seemed to shiver a little, inching a bit closer still to Alex. "Are you intentionally being sort of freaky or...?"

“Ah, right. We haven’t been properly introduced. I’m Ingram. A pleasure.” He paused for a moment upon hearing Joshua's disposition towards him. The suited man, Ingram, laughed heartily after a moment of contemplated silence, showing the comment didn’t faze him. “I haven’t heard that one in a while! No, I am not intentionally trying to unnerve anyone. Though I am surprised I affect you like that considering what you pilots fight on a daily basis.”

"You're... not, like, one of those guys who thinks us, uhh... us Pluggers are above humanity, are you?" Joshua was still obviously sort of spooked, yet now comfortable enough to question this man, at least a little.

“What does that even mean? Above Humanity?” Ingram inquired as he moved his eyes back toward the outside enviroment.

"What did you mean by saying that we can't feel fear just because of what we do as a job? We're still... just, y'know, still people..." Joshua looked to what this 'Ingram' was staring at, outside. Shaking his head, "Some people think we're a 'higher type of being' or something. Still just meat, ultimately. Why treat everyone else any worse..."

Ingram nodded as he returned his glance to the duo. “Well, for me, it is hard to understand how people who go inside bipedal machines with artillery canons to fend off raiders, monsters, and the like on a daily basis can be scared of a little old man in a suit. No toxicity or harm meant.”

"Just because we can control a walking battleship doesn't mean we're invincible out of it, 'Ingram'. I'm not delusioned and reckless like so many pilots. I guess I'm a bit cowardly, but we can still die outside of our mobile firebases."

“Heh. I’m sorry if what I said hurt your feelings. You need not be so sensitive, my young friend.” Ingram replied, his calm smile still expressed on his face.

"I guess so. So... what's your story, I guess?"

“Just a down on their luck financial supervisor and businessman. New Anchorage is hiring more than NC pilots.” Ingram admitted as he reached down to a nearby makeshift table which held a flask. As he picked it up, he flicked the cap off and took a swig— the smell of alcohol apparent. “New opportunities and all that.”

"Oh." Ray looked to the side as he listened to Ingram take a gulp. "...I guess we're not going to really know each other much after this then, huh?"

“Well that depends if we get the job, right?” The older man replied with a chuckle.

"Please, Don't keep us under suspense. I know who you resemble." The statement was one Alexander made not out of certainty, but something was definitely off about the man; from his suit down to his entire presence. It was unnerving, and there was at least some information that worked with his suspicions. It was a shot in the dark and a bit of a gamble, but if he was wrong he’d at least have figured something out that he didn’t know beforehand.

“Right. I’ve got to… I’ll be right back.”

It was with that comment that Joshua stood back up and went back towards the bathrooms; not out of an upset stomach but out of the anxiety that was coming from the conversation and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to sit next to the man when Alex began to shoot accusations at him. Why did it seem that this ride was going south? It had started so well, too. As Joshua left to go to the bathroom, Ingram turned his attention towards Alexander, or more specifically, his anxiety-riddled suspicions. His brows narrowed upon such words. He wasn’t sure where Alexander was going with his current train of thought but it most certainly wasn’t friendly and he was not too pleased with what he was hearing. Rather, unpleased actually.

“Is that a fact?”

"Nathaniel's last name was Ingram." Alexander spoke with grim finality. Nathaniel was Alexander's first opponent in open combat; he was sixteen to Alexander's eighteen, experienced but not a genius. He was also the first person Alexander captured and made to share his life of slavery. He was also dead as far as he had heard.

“What an interesting coincidence.” He chuckled as he shook his head. “But I have no relations to a Nathaniel Ingram, as far as I know anyway. Ingram is my given name. It would be quite silly if my full name was Ingram Ingram. That'd be a riot at parties.”

"But you know of him; nothing you said contradicts that." Alexander sighed out of anxious fever. "And if I'm wrong... well then I'm wrong. You do know me though, that's for sure. You have your own secrets, while I'm open about myself. You're dangerous in your own way, I'm openly a threat to those I'm not allied to. But...if you want to inflict harm on me, just say it, and you'll get the opportunity. Just...don't do anything bad to anyone else."

“You seem to have a persecution complex, my friend. I am not out to get you.” His smile dropped. “Do I know you? Of course I do. Alexander Sky of Red-Star. Ace of Isaki Squadron. Known as Surēbumasutā among their ranks, which I believe roughly translates to ‘Slave Master’. Exceptional kill count yet also with a high capture rate. A bit of a legend for a grunt that Red-Star thought was expendable. Word is that they want their mech back. Yes, I know you well. It was part of my job to know every relevant NC pilot of our time. My secrets are mine, but no I am not some vengeance fueled sibling. No. Are we done playing presumptions?”

"I don't know whether to feel relieved or intimidated." Alexander said. "All I know is, with my past all around me, it will be harder to look towards the future."

“The answer is both, Alexander Sky. Now, if you will excuse me. I need to go visit the dining car. Cheers.”

---

The rattle sounds of metal rolling over metal resonated throughout the quiet train, if it wasn't for the small group of people who had decided to start talking amongst themselves. It at first started with two males, but extended to a third male as he was drawn into their interesting topic. A topic of lives, history, and Red Star.

On the opposite side of the carriage Tahlia sat, feet up on the bench and back against the wall with her arms wrapped around her legs and her head resting itself in the corner as she tried to acquire some desired shut eye. Her trip to this part of the world had been a long and gruelling one, leaving her both physically and mentally worn out. It didn't help that for the past few months she had been in regular battles on her way to this ice land, and now her NC was busted beyond comprehension. With no team to command, no mechanics to rely on, and no support to help give her a break; Tahlia had done things the hard way and performed her own maintenance when needed. She wasn't a mechanic and knew the difference between a nut and a screw, but isolating the issue that was causing the Sypder mode glitches and jamming within the Armageddon's Rain was just beyond what her simple mind was capable of understanding.

Still... she was tired, and these people were noisy; talking about their little problems and trivial issues. She had gotten some shut-eye but not enough to improve her mood. Sleepily she pulled up her head and shifted the hood so she could see the others. A young boy, European looking; an older man, with an out of date pony tail; and an over-stylish man in a suit, more than likely NOT an NC user. Taking these details into account she reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a crumpled pack of Longbeach cigarettes, a brand that somehow survived the hundreds of years since their first appearance into the market place. It was little wonder though as Red Star's interactions had strengthen some of the Indonesian/Australian businesses allowing them to still operate even in this day and age. She tipped the soft pack up, letting a stick slip it's way out and followed up with bring it to her lips and lighting it with an old zippo.

Tahlia sat there in silence, slowly puffing away and watching the warm glow of the end fill with a vibrant red every few moments. Alexander Sky, she thought to herself, knowing that she had read about him several years ago. The product of the Burrows' "slave breeding projects", the "Slaver-Slave" they called him, an idiotic name in Tahlia's books as any person was either a either a master or a slave. You either dished out the orders or obeyed them, a simple concept that worked well.

Eventually the two men surrounding Alexander decided to leave with one heading off to the toilet for a second time, probably because he broke the seal in the cold environment, and the other looking to get something to eat. Using this opportunity Tahlia sat herself up and gave a heavy shrug, allowing her hoody to reposition itself into a more natural position. The dark reddish brown showing off it's harrowing colours with the design of the logo that was stitched into the back; the Star of a corporation, and the icon of disturbing nation. She made her move, walking over to the male that was now sitting alone, lifting her leg and plunging her foot onto his thigh. Before it could register to the poor male what was happening she grabbed him by the jaw and glared into his eyes, piercing into his very soul.

"You call yourself Red Star?" she spoke to him, cigarette still in mouth and smoke drifting out of her lips. Carefully she turned his head from one side to the other, looking at the shape of a European skull, noting the differences in bone structure and skin tone. "You only became a Red Star because you were told you were to become a Red Star. That is the difference between you and me. Red Star doesn't flow in your veins."

Tahlia let go of the male's jaw, plucking the cigarette out of her mouth and ashing it on the ground next to them. She let the cigarette hang there for a moment in her fingertips before ending off her short spiel. "Red Star will eventually come to reclaim what is rightfully theirs. Both your NC, and my own... however they will also take me back under their wing, but will they accept you, 'Slave Master'?"

The cigarette gently lifted it's way back to Tahlia's mouth as she lifted her leg off the poor individual's thigh. She gave a sly smirk and a huff in the form of a light giggle before patting the boy twice on the cheek with her free hand, "Lighten up mate..." she said in a more positive, yet cynical tone, "Didn't you bloody come to New Ancorage to get away from that shit? So why worry about it?"

---

“This is Commander Graham. I know many of you are still adjusting to the change in military administration, but the new pilots will be arriving within the hour and I need things to be in order. I want all personnel to look busy by that point. I will be reassigning the NC squadron sometime following the acquisition of these new pilots. Thank you.”

Graham's voice resounded from the speakers in the supply depot facility of the base, where Joe Verona was expecting a delivery. As he stooked in the cargo loading & unloading area, a few of the workers seemed to look bored as they rattled on with nothing much to do. Joe didn't need to be at the depot, but he wanted to ensure his delivery arrived safely and was then delivered to Swarm's cache in the base's NC hangar. Hopefully it would arrive before he had to leave for lunch.

Fifteen minutes passed until the supplies were scheduled to arrive, which it did with a minor delay of about two minutes. Personell quickly got back to work as they began unloading the crates, boxes, and cargo containers. Joe looked across the platform, trying to spot the crates of his delivery.

He spotted them at the end of the industrial tram, being unloaded from an additional wagon.

“This one goes to the NC hangar! Unit 01!” The voice of the depot chief, Maria Lopez, echoed over the depots PA system.

It seemed that everything was being properly coordinated as far as Joe could tell, because he didn't have the patience for missteps if he continued to be stuck in New Anchorage. There was a sigh of relief as Joe was relieved to know the cargo had safely arrived, and the depot chief knew where it was supposed to go. He didn't expect less, but he wanted to make sure. As he had no reason to stay in the depot, he then proceeded to head back to the hangar, to ask engineering staff to test whether or not the speakers and their control circuits were working to their specifications. Joe himself didn't have the time to check them all on his own, especially with lunch and new personnel arriving soon.

Fortunately, the hangar facility was directly adjacent to the depot facility so it wasn’t much of a trek across the base. Once in the hangar, he headed back towards the NC station hub. Joe moved almost in a double-step before stopping at the base of where Swarm was stationed. A large “01” lining across the walls in faded black paint. The engineer currently working there was one he was familar with but hadn't decided to converse with before.

Joe cleared his throat to get the girl's attention. "Excuse me, a delivery of speakers and circuitry will soon arrive in the Swarm's cache, could you please help me check if they function correctly, I sadly don't have the time to check them all on my own."

The engineer turned with wrench in hand, her black hair tied up in a rough ponytail. “Hm? Oh! Hi! Yeah, that won’t be a problem at all. Is there anything else you need me to check for?”

"Thank you, and there is nothing more I can think of right now, although you should probably know what the circuits are supposed to do before you check them." Joe paused, if the engineer already knew, he didn't have to explain their function in detail.

“I'll do some diagnostics beforehand, of course. Kind of like, electrical engineering 101.”

"Ok, thanks."

“No problem! Let me know if you need anything else, okay?”

"Will do."

---

Percy Moore sighed as he got the last of the cardboard moving boxes into his barracks. The hardest part of moving was finally out of the way; getting the stuff in the new place. Now he had to figure out where he wanted to put everything.

"Dad?"

"Hm?" Percy gave his daughter a fleeting glance as he started to open the boxes of Ana's clothes to fold and put them up in the closet.. or maybe in the drawers. Honestly, that'd make more sense. She can actually reach the drawers.

"Why d'you want me to stay on base again? I thought you said it was dangerous?"

Percy stopped for just a moment - he did say that, didn't he? He couldn't keep himself from stumbling over his words as he spoke, "Well, uh, it's.. It is still dangerous."

"Then why put me in such a dangerous place?" The emphasis Ana put on "dangerous" showed that she honestly doubted the danger. She knew her father well, and he did have a tendency to blow things out of proportion.

"There are better rules that are more strictly followed now. So you're safer now than you were. Plus, uh.. You know. I can keep a better eye on you if you just stay here. It's better than trying to go back and forth all the time."

"What kinda rules are there?"

Percy thought about it for the next few moments as he continued to fold and put things away before realizing that he honestly wasn't all too sure. He remembered going to the meetings with the others, but he could not for the life of him remember what the rules might've been. Maybe because he was infatuated with his metallic prosthetic in that moment, but.. still. He could definitely hear what was being said. It must not have sunk in. He'd have to get a refresher about the base regulations from Elizabeth or maybe Stein when he had the time. He was hesitant about going to Stein though, considering the woman's lecture still echoed in his mind a bit. He'd probably go to Eli, honestly.

"Better ones," Percy stated, hoping that answer would suffice for now.

"Liiike?" Ana was just being difficult now, and her little smile showed that she was, in fact, just being difficult.

"Ana," Percy's voice showed some feign exasperation. They shared a quick knowing grin with each other before Percy continued with his normal voice. "I don't know. I wasn't really paying much attention when it was getting talked about," Percy quickly glanced at the slightly ajar door as if he expected Graham to be standing there, judging him. "all I know is that it's alright for you to be here as long as you don't get into much trouble."

"Trouble like getting myself hurt, or trouble like.. bad trouble?"

"Either would be bad, but you're too little to cause any kind of bad trouble."

Ana nodded in understanding, then moved on to her next question, "So since I'm gonna be staying here, can I see Vera more often? I really like Vera."

Percy didn't answer right away.

"I dunno. I.. I might need to talk to Elizabeth about it."

"Well, assuming she says yes, are you gonna actually let me?"

Percy honestly didn't think the idea was a bad one, but at the same time, two kids could very easily get into more trouble than one ever could, even if Vera was five years older than Ana. Even then, Vera seemed much less clumsy and likely to get into trouble than Ana did. Plus she was older, and she could very easily keep Ana away from anything that could possibly hurt her. The more he thought about it, the more he liked the idea.

"Yeah. I'll let you see her," He finally answered.

"Are you suurrree you're gonna let me?"

"I'm pretty sure. I mean, unless you give me a reason not to let you. If I just let you do whatever you wanted, whenever you wanted, I wouldn't really be a father, would I? I'd just be the guy taking care of you."

"But you kinda are the guy taking care of me."

Percy wasn't sure if he should feel hurt or just laugh it off in that moment. Her tone of voice suggested she meant it innocently; or even as a joke. But it still stung.. The shit kids say, right?

Percy broke the tense moment of silence, "I'm your father. I'm not just some baby sitter, Ana."

"I know," Ana's voice showed confusion with the statement Percy had made, "I was just saying.. cause.. you're a guy.. you take care of me. So you're the guy that takes care of me. Sorry." Ana's apology was hastily tacked on to the end as she looked down at the grayed sheet she was sitting on. "Thought I was being clever."

"No, no, don't be sorry. I was just overthinking it.. I'm sorry."

"Well I'm sorry you're sorry."

Percy grinned slightly, then said, "We're going to stop that right there, cause that could keep going for hours." He knew that it could very well go on for hours because it actually had once. He couldn't remember why they kept apologizing to each other, but it definitely happened. He also remembers them both in a giggling fit afterwards cause it took them two hours to finally stop.

Ana giggled at that.

Alexander yelped as Tahlia stomped on his hip, before giving a mini-speech that, quite frankly, was mildly ignorant of how Burrows worked; which fit, as from what dossiers he read, Tahlia Styles was a surface-dweller. Once the woman had stopped her spiel, and furthermore tried to get the 24-year old to 'lighten up', the pilot gave his reply, saying, with misleading mildness:

"Miss Styles, tell me, what do you really know of the 'Burrows'? Do you really think that I'd let them take me back there, to The Room?" If Tahlia wasn't blind and deaf, she would have heard rumors of just how the underground inhabitants of the Burrows were treated, and how dissidents were kept in line through brainwashing, brainwashing that was also rumored to make use of Neural Net-derived technology.

"But enough, I don't want to run a pity party," Alex continued. "Ms. Styles, I do not like your show of remaining loyalty to Red-Star, nor do I like how, despite your words, you're still here, on this tram, and you still have the Old Australian Flag prominently displayed. So, either you truly have remnant loyalties to Red-Star, which is dangerous for our new employer, or you're trying to get in my head, which is worse." The 24-year old pursed his lips.

"So, tell me what you want."

Alexander further observed Tahlia, looking for any tells in her behavior. She was clearly confident, assertive, and also physically tired. He would then continue:

"And if what you want is some sleep and a lighter mood, you're welcome to rest; I'll stand guard."

@NuttsnBolts

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Yeshua licked the rim of the glass, satisfied with his hydration. Putting down the glass on a cramped wooden table that had the smudges of filth creeping around it, he took care not to touch anything. The arch of his back began bugging him as his cramped back seemed to contour as a river meanders. Travel to travel, bunk to bunk, his sense of comfort had never been quenched. Shifting like an agitated child, he sat upon the alligator's jaw, staring outside the window with such intent.

Only 2 metres long and metre tall, lying sideways was his only option. His feet could poke at the glass, even though his knees were bent. He tried avoiding the sweat stains, but it was just another thought that pressed down on his shoulders. Nails untrimmed, dirt hiding beneath them, he tried to stir towards something positive. He tried to reach his arm outside his cubicle into the corridor. His closed eyes liit up in bliss. Stretching, he pulled back his hand only to collide with a walking man. The response of a most likely drunk individual was to shove it, twisting his elbow and feeling the cold metal handle of someone else's luggage collide with his unseen hand. Profusely embarrassed, he retracted his arm and wrung his wrist around his other hand. Sitting on his hands, the heat ran through his body. The nearest coatrack was a few steps down the corridor in another wardrobe, but everyone was moving about and this was the only peace he would get for a while.

The window had failed incredibly to keep him relaxed. As the routine see-sawing of the tram jogged him like a pram down a hill, the view of empty, irradiated wasteland was displeasing. All of the nature had been full of order, a hierarchy of culture and power, destroying by egotism and violence. A tragedy that once again humans climbed out the pit of, leaving behind the Old World. Young and elderly alike, people flocked to continue the same goals they panted for centuries prior, each making the same mistake as before. But this was the greatest mistake of human kind; the land that he saw was example of that. And even now, when education could leave behind the ignorance of the Old World, the cancer persists in a new form, a caricature of its old self. Even if there was the occasional wildlife out there, it was obscured by the mist that had descended over the dense viewing glass. Nature had been partitioned from man. Even as many scientists and thinkers, like himself and others, tried to walk down the tightrope of enlightenment, they feel victim to primal instincts.

The idea was painted right in front of him. Here, with every railing, curtain, comes through the most disgusting pointless human urges of sleep, that even he obeyed. And yet, funnily enough, he believed he could do something about it. No one trained him to be like this, but this is the very nature of humanity. The universe. Everything. Doomed to loop, doomed to consume, destroy and blame, and to avoid the inevitable only to make everything worse.

He lifted his hand, ignoring the tingling hot feeling running down his leg.

Whistling air. Frozen time. Crash.

He grabbed his hair irritably.

"I need a haircut."

---
When Vera returned to the room, she found the bed pushed flush against the wall, the desk likewise, and the drawer crammed into the corner, effectively turning it into a grand open space. The sight was enough of a surprise to halt her at the door, which was lucky, because had she stepped any further inside she might have taken an awful blow to the head by the wooden practice sword Eli was swinging around. Was in that, when she saw Vera –and moreover, the door open behind her-- she stopped altogether.

As if nothing was the matter, the snowy girl greeted her. “Hey, how was your walk?”

“What did you do to the room?” Vera asked, door shutting behind her. She made her way to the bed and climbed up.

“Needed room to practice.”

“Aren’t there like…practice…rooms?”

“Needed room to practice alone.”

Honestly Vera didn’t mind the changes much, she had a backrest to sit against now at the least. She took up Eli’s PDA but only absently toyed around on it as the older girl began moving again. It was nice to watch, Eli had been doing the same forms for years and years, and by now, even after a few weeks of neglect, it was second nature. Rather than a rigid set of moves, it appeared more like dancing, a fluid collection of steps, turns, leaps, swipes, stabs, all seamlessly woven together. Quick, then slow, wide-stanced and narrow, up on one leg, and low to the ground.

Vera wondered if she could dance in an NC, too.

“So new people showin’ up soon. Wanna go get somethin’ to eat, maybe meet'em?” she asked, and rolled her eyes at the flat look Eli offered in response. “How about just the eating then? I’m hungry, you’re hungry.”

Another flat look, shaken though into embarrassment by a subtle growling from her stomach.

“Hah, you’re hungry, checkmate let’s go," Vera chimed, hopping off the bed before Eli could begin to protest. “You’re gonna make friends~ You’re gonna make friends~”

“We’ll be working together, I don’t need to meet them.”

Vera whirled around on her heel and snatched Eli by the wrist, tossing the practice sword onto the bed. “Nuh, nope, not this time. Last time we got people you didn’t even talk to them. Jan seemed nice, and Stein was awesome and you never talked to her. Plus there’s Percy, and that guy with the fun name that looks like a zombie. You get to work with zombies and giant robots how are you not like exploding with happiness?”

For being no higher than Eli’s middle, Vera could pull weight when it mattered. Despite a faint resistance, she eventually succeeded in yanking Eli out of the room, at which point the girl straightened up and pulled her hand back to her side.

“Okay, okay, we’ll go eat,” Eli said, hushed. She snagged her coat from a hook near the door, wrapped her scarf about her face, and pulled the hood up over her head. “But then I’m coming right back, I have to practice.”

“Yeah yeah practice got it, les’go,” Vera said, and with Eli following behind at a brisk gait, started off for the cafeteria, eager to see the new people, whoever they were. Given all the others thus far had been awesome, she wasn’t worried too much.

---

Commander Graham’s announcement was clear: look busy. Jan Van Gent could do that. Just as soon as he finished making his latest sandwich, no less; it was masterpiece this time. A towering monstrosity of ham, cheese, lettuce, more ham, bacon strips, mayonnaise, and some more bacon strips. All put between two slices of bread he had cut himself from a loaf baked to his instructions. Truly, it was a work of culinary art in every regard... and now that it was finished he somewhat wondered where he could eat it while looking busy. Perhaps the NC Hangar? Yes, that seemed like a good spot. He could go order some grease monkeys around for a quick system check on Goldenspur.

And so Jan and his sandwich slipped quickly towards the hangar, the lead tech on his NC knew the drill by now.

"Van Gent, you miserable twat... do you ever actually do anything actually important around here that doesn't involve piloting this thing?" The voice of Chief Engineer Valdislav Kuznetsov groaned in sharp discontent as he caught Jan's approach from his position from behind one of Goldenspur's bipedal legs. The veteran mechanic and NC technician had decided to get his hands dirty and do the maintenance on Goldenspur himself rather than having any of the underlings in the department. After all, he hated sitting at his desk so it was a good excuse to get away from it. Nothing worse than doing nothing when you could be doing something; at least that was his perspective.

"You try and pilot it then, go on, I'll wait here to call in a stretcher. Gives me enough time to finish this little snack here." Jan simply gave the man his signature infuriatingly smug smirk. Despite the back and forth stabbing he still quite respected the man's diligence. Still, as far as Jan figured it "a man's got to eat his sandwich when the call of a sandwich beckoned". "Anything that needs a checkup on the old girl?" Jan asked, trying to at least pretend he was here to do something important.

The chief engineer sighed as he dropped the tool that was in his hand as he placed it on the ground. As he stood up from his crouched position he finally replied to the question. “Honestly? The repairs for your NC that were necessary were done a while ago, ever since Sophia decided to go off the reservation you guys have been sitting around doing nothing and I’ve been just making sure the gears work and make sure these damned NC's are clean. It’s fucking boring.”

"Aye... It has been, I must confess I only came here because I literally couldn't think of anywhere else I could even pretend I'm doing something useful... But then again, us not having work could also be seen as a... good thing? I guess. I mean, it means we won't need to kill people for another day."

“Graham just wants you to look pretty and not like you’re a slacker. Jokes on him though, you’re already a slacker!” The man grinned through his beard as if ignoring Jan's comment about not finding work being a good thing, “At least you’ve got your looks, though that can’t last long if you keep getting klonked by the girl.”

"Getting klonked? What’s that supposed to mean?" Jan asked in confusion... did he mean Stein Kalfox?

“Did you forget when Stein kneed you in your— never mind, you’re stupid. Ignore me.”

Jan did remember that one time when he first met Stein, but that was before he had developed a sort of... respect for her. Nowadays he considered her... not exactly a friend, but someone he quite loved to pester. It was the only reaction he could make think of against such an uncompromising exterior. He half expected her to be standing behind her right now, just giving him her signature judging stare.

Valdislav kicked his feet as he leaned against a long metal support, hands tucked in his pockets. “This does mean Graham is nearly ready to put you kids back in the field. I wonder how he’ll do with that compared to Sophia. Speaking of her, though— what was your version of her? Seems everyone on base has a different outlook about 'er.”

Jan took another bite of his sandwich as he considered the question. He hadn't ever really gotten to know Sophia that well, for all he knew, she might have been the best commander ever before she decided to bug out and desert. "I really can't say man. I'd known her for maybe a few days before she... walked out."

The chief engineer raised a brow, “She’s not going to come up from behind you if you talk ill of her, you know; but I guess you are right there. You couldn’t have had much concerns with her. You did what… two or three missions with her at the helm? Really it was like we blinked and she was gone. Spooky shit.”

"Why did she leave anyway? I never really caught the reason. I heard some reasons, but most of them seem to conflict with each other."
“Depends who you ask. She was cozy with Elizabeth Jackspar, but she talks less than Stein does.” Valdislav sighed as he looked down at his wrist to check the time. “If you want my opinion? She had a nervous breakdown and went what you’d call ‘AWOL’. I just call it crazy.”

"Yeah, that seems the most likely explanation, most commanders don't just bug out for no apparent reason... and hey, Graham took over pretty nicely, though I don't really know who he is. I've heard some stories about his exploits, but I've never had the pleasure of working with or for him before. He seems to know his stuff though, at least from what I know of him." Jan commented.

“Yeah.” Valdislav looked to his left and right to see if anybody else was in earshot before adding on to his reply. “Graham scares me and I don’t have the faintest clue why. Maybe it’s how quick he came in here and got things organized following Sophia's leaving, the fact he came out of nowhere when New Anchorage hired his ass, or the fact that he’s throwing these regulations and expectations around as if we were some military outfit. I don’t know about you, but it just makes me uncomfortable.”

"Yeah, now that you mention it... he has run quite an extensive reorganization of this operation. And all the new blood he's bringing in, almost like he's building an army or something. I know I've survived as long as I did by walking out on people that thought they could take on the mega-corps in some sort of insurrection." Jan whispered the last part of his sentence, almost like he was afraid of openly criticizing the commander. "Listen, if he ever goes full retard like that, I have a passenger compartment in Goldenspur... consider it reserved for you."

“I don’t know if you’re being friendly or if you’re being friendly. Just so you know, I’m too old for that and I don’t wrench that way.” The comment from the chief engineer seemed to come out of left field, perhaps the snarky jab was a way to settle his own fears and anxiety? Heh, perhaps Jan was finally starting to understand people in this mess of a base.

"Yeah, screw you too mate." Jan finished his sandwich and spent some more time looking at the mechanics doing their job. To a casual oserver, he would look like he was overseeing things.

“Again, no thanks.” Valdislav laughed.

---

---

---

---

3:02.

The time on Stein Kalfox’s digital watch that was set to a stopwatch function was accurate, though it didn’t stop the blonde-haired girl from being frustrated in a fuming anger. She had run similar courses in two minutes and thirty five seconds.

What’s wrong with me?

With no actual punishment for failing the simulation, Stein had promised to put herself through all of the fundamentals to not only get herself back in physical and metal shape that were satisfactory but also to punish herself. While she was glad she had failed in a simulation, she was not glad that she failed in the first place. Had she done the same thing back at Volkov she would’ve been reprimanded and disciplined for slipping up— expectations were in place for a reason. And there was absolutely no reason why she should’ve been not meeting those expectations.

She blamed herself. There was no other reason then the fault being on her; there had to be no answer but that something was wrong with her. Logically, that was the conclusion Stein had been taught since she was ten years old. The world of quotas, regulations, expectations, schedules, and training; it was really the only thing she had ever known. And since her discharge from Volkov due to reasons unknown and being attacked on the outskirts of New Anchorage Stein really had in comparison been lax by her standards— a fact that she kept thinking harder and harder about since the simulation results. Results that had done something she hadn’t done in a long time: doubt herself.



Stein sighed as she braced her elbow against her knee in partial defeat. Her body was aching yet she wasn’t mentally ready to admit that her hour of rigorous training in the obstacle course was over. It went through all of the motions just like Volkov… except it was solitary. There was… she paused for a moment and nearly laughed at how pathetic her thoughts were sounding.

“There is no one here with me.” A soft, nearly monotone chuckle left her lips.

Whilst many people had painted her as a robot, Stein couldn’t have been further from it as she very much still had emotions. Had she not had them she would’ve never been offended when Chief Engineer Kuznetsov or fellow pilot Percy Moore painted her as one. When she had received the insult as a child it had been the worst thing since killing her first target. Her thoughts went back to Captain Vox and her sentiment “to be like stone” to make her move on from her emotional clout. It was one of the reasons she adopted the name of “Stein”— to erase… no, kill Anastasia Kalfox and bury her without prejudice. But this was something so small… and sure she had been distracted out of the armor since she arrived in New Anchorage. But could that be that she was letting Anastasia rise from the dead? Could it be that she missed her squad and the machinations back at their base in Seattle?

No, that’s illogical and stupid, Stein.

She cleared the time on her stopwatch; switching back to universal time.

“11:31.” She muttered under her breath.

Pushing herself back to her feet after the time in introspection she decided that she wasn’t done and she had done enough doubting and moping. She wasn’t Percy and she wouldn’t become like that shell of a pilot. She cracked her neck in a stretch as she took a heavy breath. She could do six more before cleaning up and heading off to the mess hall for the NC pilot assigned lunch at 12:00— a lunch Commander Graham had made mandatory to get them on a consistent schedule. She’d get there on time. She was never late, even when crunching courses in.

Let’s do it correctly this time.

Stein switched her watch back to the stopwatch function with a confident smile.

Penny could definitely hear some commotion on her train carriage, she was slightly tempted to peek and have a look what was going on. But she had work to do. Although she loved being a pilot she was still a journalist/analyst first and foremost and had a whole report on the Magen Corporation to finish reading so she could begin telling a story about their new weapons manufacturing schemes. She was in her element, reading off her pocket computer while taking notes off her holo-screen, wondering if she would be able to visit any of the major corporations in her new role underneath Michael Graham, so many unknowns, so much excitement.

Her nerves began to settle as the train entered the county of New Anchorage, which she still called Smith's Rest in her mind. 3 generations of her family were from Alaska and even during the turmoil of war and civil unrest its difficult not be comforted by the sights of your own home. But with that came a sense of duty, although she worked in media, the military roots of her grandfather and father where strong in her veins. "Protect what we died to build...Save our home." Her grandfather's words would always ring in her mind when she was called to do something for the greater good. It was time to be a pilot again.

There was still a little bit of time before the train reached the destination so Penny decided to run some training VRs on her Holo-Interface while on the train, she had just downloaded the latest demo for 'Marksman Mark 3' which would help her with her sniping in NC combat. Penny became a pilot fairly late, not growing up around them and having paid for formal lessons to become a pilot was very out of the norm for someone from a working class background. Most of her friends grew up with NC's working in garages or military branches. So Penny made a point to stay in practice whenever she could. Hoping not to be embarrassed by her peers when it came to a live combat mission.

Deep breaths Penny, don't have to get the headshot, just make sure you hit something. The longer I can stay alive, the more interviews you can do.

The VR booted up, and penny's lungs went tight with focus....

---

Everything creaked in the speeding can that was the Alaskan Tramline. The windows groaned with every bit of detritus that assailed the tram exterior. Sturdy cabins made of hardened metal rattled as they moved at such speeds they would crumple as though made of aluminum should they find themselves meeting a sudden stop with an equally sturdy object. Signs of age and deterioration where part and parcel with this whethered machine, and so too was one occupant in particular.

Sitting with her back to the grime encrusted window, Agatha Smith's own bones were rattling in her seat. She was shaking at the prospect of what lay before her. Long lost glory was on the horizon, and she was on the literal fast train heading straight towards it.

Eyes shifting to the fellow occupants of the train car, her lips curled into a sharp grin. She couldn't quite pin it down, perhaps it was the two NC pilots from Red Star territory caught in a spat over their foreign allegiances, or maybe it was the familiar scent of urine dripping down one's leg, but there was something about the barely constrained chaos of it all that shook her to her core.

Nothing here was comfortable, and nothing was going to be easy. New Anchorage was insignificant in the grand scheme of things, with hardly anything of worth to it's name, so one shouldn't expect to hit it rich or have a laidback job up in the north. It made one question what drove someone to go this far for work.

Back in her day- and lord did it behoove her to think in such terms- she was familiar enough with a vast menagerie of oddball NC pilots. It was only to be expected when they were all a bunch of teenagers sitting on several tons of armor and ordinance with the orders to shoot the other teenagers across from them with there own mecha. That kind of work breeds some odd tendencies even without the corporate dogma or rough upbringing that every pilot seemed to share and let define them.

When your life's value is extrapolated from your ability to take another's, the mind has wonderful means of justifying it.

At one time, Agatha had accepted it as her purpose in life. After all, if one is compatible with an NC, shouldn't they use that talent? Life is remarkably simple when you have a purpose, a goal to forever strive for.

Agatha wanted the simplicity. The warmth found in a life of hardship. The life she once had-

Her gaze flickered to the Alaskan wilderness passing by in the window and caught sight of own her reflection. What youth once was had long since passed, a wild main that shone like spun gold had withered to a dull grey, but that thin smile was the same as it was 30 years ago.

Beneath the grime and the degradation of time, the lioness still stirred. Bones creaking as they failed to contain her excitement, she clung to this opportunity to return to the battlefield with the all the fervor of a drowning sailor.

---

It was true what Alexander had said about Tahlia not knowing anything about the Burrows. This girl had grown up and was stationed in one of the most remote area of Australia, a good 10 hours from any of the inhabitants on the Eastern Australian Colonies, and only receiving the information and data that she was allowed to receive. It was little wonder that she didn't know much about these "Burrows" let alone this so called "Room". It was propaganda at it's finest, a perfect way to control a dogs of the Red Star. Her orders back at the mines were quite simple... "Kill anything that was not Red Star and defend this establishment at all costs," and she did that, defending it until she was the very last soul to ever live in now ghost town that was once known as Broken Hill.

Still his words ate into her as she stared, glaring down into his eyes to watch the fire ignite. The man who was previously informing others about his sob story of a life, telling them that he had to make amends to his past, telling them about his sins, had had the tact to question where her loyalty lied?

"What if I 'was' loyal to Red Star?" she questioned, smirking with an evil like grin and knowing it would full well rile up the young man. "What would you do about it? Would you... pull a knife on me? Stab me in the neck? Watch me bleed and call me a rodent, a dog, perhaps even a coward?" Her index and middle fingers came together in a needle like pose as she lifted her hand and positioned the fingertips on the curve between the collarbone and neck. "But what would happen if you were oh so very wrong, and you killed a fellow comrade out of pure hate for Red Star? How would Graham view your actions and in turn, value of your life and your loyalty?"

Tahlia knew that her statement would make him question who it was that she was really fighting for, but it was a necessary decision in her mind so she could see the stability of someone who had previously been enslaved by Red Star. She needed to know if he was willing to look past the past in order to focus on the future, that one's allegiance was not governed by one's birthright.

"I don't sleep because I don't trust you, nor really anyone else on this tram for that matter," closing off the conversation in a direct and assertive matter so that he knew that even a fellow Red Star fighter would not be willing to easily defend him from the interrogations and inquiries of others.

She turned and started to walk away towards the dining car, dropping the cigarette on the floor and watching it roll around briefly before catching it with the sole of her boot, all in front of the view of an older lady. An NC pilot ready for retirement? she thought to herself wandered past the older lady, right before Tahlia grabbed the door and swung it open, entering the dining car to find a decent meal.

Before Alexander can reply, Tahlia had left, having rejected his olive branch. The fire faded out of his eyes soon after, as the necessity for it faded. The twenty-four year old sighed; he was not going to make a move against Tahlia until she had proven her loyalty or lack of. What he will do, however, was review what he vaguley knew about his fellow pilot; he recalled that the woman was an Australian 'priv' (aka a surface-dweller) who piloted a Spider-shaped NC?

Finally noticing Agatha, Alexander would take a good, long, look, but not recognize her, although he can tell that she somehow belonged here; her eyes said so. Taking a gamble, he said:

"Madam, I am honored to have a warrior skilled enough to survive to such a ripe old age be with us. And, I am sorry that you had to hear the...commotion between me and Ms. Styles, or rather, Ms. Funnel Spider." That was a reference to Tahlia's Australian origins and her NC. "Either way, you are very beautiful despite your advanced years, but you probably don't want to hear that."

He sniffed. Did someone just urinate within the tram? Well, not his business. He had a badass old lady to talk to.

"So," he finally decided to select a conversation topic, "How do you like Alaska? You must have seen a lot of harsh, but beautiful places in your time." A few moments to wait for a reply, before Alexander spoke again:

"If people call your part of life a 'winter', then it is a winter of calmness and dignity." Ugh, that sounded like I was making a pass at her; it doesn't help that I am right; she is attractive. "All right, I know you're not interested in me, but I still stand by my words." Alexander then tried to sidestep the subject.

"Either way, when will we get to New Anchorage?"

---

Agatha raised a brow, surprised by the oddly deferential tone of the pilot across from her. Given his prior interaction with the Australian she assumed he was the confrontational sort, thought even that contradicted his interaction with that Joshua fellow. Agatha presumed he was just the sort who took political affiliation very seriously, but as an independent it wasn't really that big of an issue for her.

Surprise was evident as Agatha picked up on the not so subtle interest that Alexander was showing her. Granted, one as seasoned as her didn't devolve into a blushing mess, even in her youth she wasn't the type. A peel of laughter, mirthful rather than derisive, barked out as she leaned heavily upon her knees.

"My you are a forward one. I'd rather avoid the cliché of saying you're old enough to be my son, but you make it too easy." She teased as she reigned in her laughter. Sitting up, she flexed her arm in a show of strength. "Not to say I don't appreciate your opinion. You've got to take pride in your body if you want to keep it going strong."

Agatha thought it only fair to check him out in turn and didn't dislike what she saw. A small part of her was disheartened to be contemplating another man after her husband, but if she wanted to remain a widower she wouldn't be on the train.

"Alaska? Haven't been here before, but I've had some work over in Siberia. Cold, Harsh, and visibility is utter shite, but the work paid well. Should be interesting work, but you don't seem too focused on that. You want a word of advice?" Agatha rose, striding across the tram car to stand over Alexander. She brought a finger to his jaw line, idly noting this is the second time he would be manhandled by a woman in the past few minutes. "The poetry was a bit much, but It's sweet nonetheless."

Once more letting out a peel of laughter, Agatha made for the dining cart, pausing beside the reporter-- As seen by the prominently displayed press badge-- who was busy with her simulation. "Be careful, that young man is a real lady killer." Agatha said conspiratorially before leaving for the dining cart.

She had almost forgotten how much she enjoyed the oddballs.

---

It had taken a while, but Percy managed to make the room feel less like a bunk that was just copied and pasted and more like his (and Ana's) own space. He switched out the drab gray bed stuff with Ana's old mismatched set and he "borrowed" a couch bed from a vacant room for himself. The closet had some of Percy's clothes, and the small dresser inside had Ana's. The top of the dresser was home to a couple of books and a trio of stuffed animals - a turtle and two rabbits to be more precise. Ana liked those ones to be out. There was this damn table that just didn't fit in anywhere though, so he kept moving it around.

"Dad."

"Huh?" Percy looked up at his daughter as he moved the stupid table. again.

"Leave the table alone! You're driving us both crazy with it!"

Percy looked back down at it. He was kind of driving himself absolutely insane.. He laughed a little because that has to be be dumbest thing to let drive you insane.

"Why don't you just put it in the room you took the couch thing from?"

"Good idea."

Percy lifted the table from the floor and started to walk out of the room, Ana tailing behind ready to ask something else.

"—and since then it's been all just... y'know, you ever get that?"

"No, not really."

The voices were nearing, footsteps split between a steady pair and a lighter pair that couldn't seem to settle on a speed it liked. Before long the seemingly senseless conversation passed by the Moore's room, and all at once stopped.

"Woah-woah-woah wait! Lizzy wait!" Vera yanked the older girl's arm to a stop, peering in the open door, a grin splitting her face.

"VERA!" the question in Ana's mind had been "Hey, do you think I'm gonna run into Vera at all today?" but it was already answered. Ana ran up and hugged the older girl, allowing herself to succumb to the excitement inside of her by squealing happily and jumping up and down. "Vera Vera Vera guess what?"

Percy had tried to stop Ana from pouncing the poor girl, but it was too late. His face was red with embarrassment as he looked to Eli with a very much "I'm so sorry" look on his face.

Vera was not one to be the anchor, and so when Ana began hopping, she joined in, happy to have a little dance in the hallway. Eli stepped back to give them room, catching Percy's expression, even if it wasn't necessary. She tried to convey "it isn't a problem" as best she could with a nod, but it wasn't her forte.

"What what what?"

"I wanna see if you can guess first! C'mooonn, guess!" Ana's grin was about as big as Vera's, but she stopped jumping up and down and settled on just bouncing lightly on her feet, not able to completely leash her joy in seeing her friend.

Vera kept the embrace going even if the bouncing had stopped, a quizzical look overcoming her face. She bit her lip, bobbed her head side to side. "Hmmm...yooooou....grew a foot taller? You got heat vision? Oh!" she snapped her fingers. "You're one of the new pilots? You gonna be in one of those big robots?"

Ana stopped bouncing in that moment to look at Vera with a weird look on her face. "No," she said simply. Then she grinned again and said, "I mean, yeah, that'd be cool-"

"You will do no such thing," Percy said quickly, his voice actually pitched up slightly. He didn't even want to think about his child getting into one of those things.

Ana, ignoring her father, continued, "Buuuttt I AM gonna be around here like the pilots are! I'm staying with Dad! Here!

If Vera had caught Percy's sharp protest, she didn't show it, instead matching Ana's earlier squeal of delight with her own. "Ohmygod yes!"

Eli did, though with the hood and the scarf there was nothing to signify it. She could sympathize though, recalling only briefly when she'd found Vera asleep in Blur's cockpit.

Percy felt that as Ana was talking about her staying here, it was a perfect time to bring up his idea - or maybe "thoughts" was the better word for it.. After setting the troublesome end table down just beside his door, hee took a step towards Eli then said in a quieter voice - as if the kids could hear them over their joyous squeals - "Can I talk to you for a second, or.. were you busy?"

For a moment Eli didn't reply, instead looking Percy over, a habit with people that approached her first. The man looked more or less unchanged since the last time she'd seen him, with one more notable exception: the sleek, metalic hand. In the heat of Sophia's desertion, she must not have been aware of the wound, and less the repairation of it. Stuffing her hands in her coat, she remembered there was in fact a conversation at hand.

"What?" She said, more than asked.

"It's about the kids." Percy looked over to the two who were happily talking about how great it'll be to get to hang out with each other. "Ah.. Vera's not a trouble maker, right? Not much of one?"

The short answer was no, the long answer was more of a "nnno" with a wobbly hand gesture. Had Vera caused trouble? Probably. Did she search it out? ...Probably. But Eli was convinced she meant well.

She shook her head. "No."

"Are you sure she won't?" Percy asked without really thinking - he realized a little too late how rude that probably sounded, and his little preemptive wince showed he knew very well that he was being rude. Or maybe it looked more like a judgmental squint.

"No." Blunt, but true. As much as she trusted Vera, Eli couldn't --and wouldn't-- make promises for someone else.

"And, uh.. another thing.. Do you remember that meeting with Graham from a while back?"

It took a bit of self control not to scowl at the name, just out of reflex. "Which?"

"I think it was one of the earliest ones.. I, uh.. Wasn't paying attention." He couldn't hide the sheepish looking smile on his face. He rubbed his hands together nervously for a moment, looking over his shoulder as if Graham was going to be right there, giving him a disappointed look, before continuing, "I think there were some mentions of how sh-" Percy glanced over to the kids again to see if they were listening - it kind of looked like they were, but he couldn't really be too sure. "It was a meeting about how things were going to be run now that Sophia's up and left. I, ah.. I don't quite remember what the rules were."

"Deserted." Eli quickly corrected. "Graham knows the details, I'd imagine Lofgren does as well."

"So you weren't paying attention to Graham's lecturing either?" Percy grinned slightly.

She didn't look amused. "It isn't my job to report for you." Stark as the words were, it didn't sound like a reprimand.

The smile on Percy's face faltered slightly, "I was just joking. I mean, the guy's so boring. Ha.." Grin completely gone, Percy broke the eye contact he had been making before to timidly look away to compose himself before he really couldn't recover.

"Boring or not, New Anchorage is confident he's what we need."

The redhead shrugged slightly, looking back at Eli, "I guess."

Before either adult could speak again, Percy was pulled from the conversation when he felt a small tug on his sweater. "Dad, me and Vera are both starving."

"Yeah c'mon, talking and eating at the same time is like, part of your guys's training right?"

Percy couldn't help but smile at the two kids - Vera especially in that moment. "Sure, yeah. Didn't mean to keep you girls like that," Percy looked over to Eli, then Ana, then finally settled his gase on Eli. "Would you mind if Ana and I just walked with you and yours?"

"Course we don't mind!" Vera said, exchanging a brief glance with Eli before turning back to the others. "The more the merrier!"

Percy looked to Eli, trying to get another response from the person he actually had asked.

"Right... We'll all need to be there anyway." was about all she offered. The meeting was mandatory, she wasn't about to get reprimanded in front of new recruits on their first day.

And with that, Ana ran towards the mess hall. "Last one there's a rotten egg!"

"ANA!" Percy's shout went unheeded as his child continued to run in the hall, and Vera, not wanting to be the rotten egg, hurried after her.

Jingo Strange

Steel wheels railed against rails beneath the jittering, jerking cabin, going on and on monotonously much to Jingo's dissatisfaction. Falcon Reach had recently had a rail terminal put in, the companies were bedding down for the long haul and to them it only seemed right that they invested in their territory. Now this offered Jingo the opportunity to not have to take The Wessex, though he loved the old thing he more often then not forgot he was a person and woke up from piloting starving, having not eaten for days; however the train came with it's own set of problems, it was loud, smelly and the time it took to get form one place to another was unbearable. Not to mention the stops, oh the stops were the bane of his existence, he didn't mind meeting the new people, in fact he loved it but the time it took to load cargo during all those stops was enough to make him want to shoot himself.

Jingo lounged in his cot, half naked and steaming away behind the curtain; somewhere along the journey he had caught a nasty flu and as all flues do, this one matured into a splitting headache and a fever from hell. He sneezed, loudly, followed by another and another, gasping for breath he fumbled in the dark for something to wipe his nose, his hand gripped a soaked towel, drenched from all the sweat. In his frustration he chucked his towel out of the bunk, sending it sailing across the cabin and into the window.

"Agh.." he groaned, turning over and clutching his stomach, "Cen we please 'ave some quiescence?" he mumbled, throwing the curtain aside and swinging his legs out, dangling them in front of the young man's face. He lifted himself off the cot, landing on the floor a bit shakily, his shirtless torso glistening with sweat, "'Cause Oi've got a wedge somewhere betwixt the two halves of me brain and it's causing me pain to no end." With no regard to the pair, he reached up to his cot, leaning over the young man to retrieve his prosthetic, sweat dripping down into Alexander's lap.

Deftly, Jingo strapped it on in one fluid motion. He looked out of the window with dull eyes, outside all he could see was snow. 'That glass must be cold..' like a robot, he moved with jerking, mechanical movements to the frosted pane of glass. He tentatively brought his hand to the surface and released a loud, almost orgasmic groan of pleasure. 'It's as cold as that girl's attitude. Slowly he applied more of himself onto the glass, shivering against the frigid pane in satisfaction. At that point he wished he had more skin to press against the glass, the rubber sheet stapled over his left side left much to be desired in the way of feeling.

"My god!" He cried out, "Ye have te try this!" Alerted by the sound of its yelling owner, Jingo's Inheritance leapt out of the bunk, landing on the floor of the carriage with a resounding, metal clank. Skitters skittered and slipped on the metal floor making haste to its master's side, it stood in front of him, alert and watching the occupants of the tram - ready to spring at any moment. Jingo looked down and stared at the dog through bloodshot eyes, he let out a loud sneeze followed by a tired smile. "'ello there, Sk'ers." Now Jingo was on the other extreme of temperature, shivering against the pane of glass, held there by his frozen sweat. He eased himself off the pane, leaving a person shaped pitch of frost on the window and hugged himself; he yelped right after, having stabbed himself with the claspers at the end of his prosthetic arm. The dog jumped in alarm, losing it's footing and slipping onto its flank, Skitters lay floundering on its side.

Jingo leaned down and picked it back up, it squirmed his grip which surprised him because he didn't know a robot could squirm, and put the dog back on its feet.

"Oi'm sorry abou' tha'." He called out to anyone in the carriage, "we're an easily excitable pair."

---

Yeshua hovered his head to look at his mess. A small, disposable glass drink had been smashed on the floor, leaving a dozen sharp fragments catering the floor. His stare of apathy quickly switched as he hesitantly accepted the call of duty - quietly ignoring the warm feeling growing in his lower regions. The luck was that he had nothing to worry about from the glass. Trying not to bang his head on the foggy wood above him, his legs swivelled to dangle off the side, daring to enter the dangerous water below. Hoping not to disturb anyone in the bunk below him, he dropped down like a teardrop, oddly quiet. He took off his coat, feeling the foul air roll over his rather exposed back. He quickly drifted onto the floor, landing in perfect form. The ground purred against his feet. Taking his coat, he picked up the glass shard and haphazardly threw it in the spacious pocket located on the coat. The boy craned up, searching behind him and in front for the sign of hope; the sign of a bin. No one would want to be caught in the mess he was in. Yeshua put his coat back on to try and hide his stain and to take the smashed glass away.

Absent mindedly he shoved his hand back into his pocket; out of habit, out of a lost mind. A sharp yelp escaped his lips. It faded almost immediately as Yeshua examined his brilliant work. The finger barely bled.

Walking down the hall, Joshua came into the bunks and saw another man, not unlike a younger himself, trying to get to a bin and walking a bit funny. Joshua was retreating away from the higher concentration of people, and to him, amusingly found someone who must've been attempting the same.

He spoke up, somewhat quietly but still audible. "Too many people for you too, huh?--", he paused a bit, "Some of those guys are creeps. Us loners gotta stick together, don't we? Pffft."

Yeshua continued to dart his head, it swaying in the wind. Turning to look for the nearest bin, he remained ever vigilant. His feet patted the soggy carpet, and he noticed a foggy figure in his peripheral vision. The sound was registered but not admired, so he continued to search for a bin, knowing the toilet would have probably been occupied. There, he searched through each aisle, moving further and further away from the man that was talking to somebody. His finger continued to bleed in his pocket. Maybe he'd just move away and not use one of his five senses, particularly smell. Acting normal was becoming paranormal.

The other man began to move a bit quicker, obviously finding this situation nearly surreal. "Uhh.. what the hell am I smelling..? Are you okay, young guy?", he sniffed the air, "Is that blood, or piss?", the man then smelled his surroundings once more to confirm, "Is it both? Hey, hey! Do you need medical attention? The hell happened?", the now somewhat panicked man 'slowly' jogged over to Yeshua and looked him over closely from behind and a bit to the side.

Attention.

So he was talking to me, Yeshua admired through smeared vision. Removing his left, unwounded hand onto the back of his alien head felt awfully strange all of a sudden, and it became like a paraplegic puppet was forgetting his actions. What he said was more overshadowed by his towering prescence, and the heat that teleported to him was infuriating and unwelcoming. He stepped back. Lips spluttered in search of a better language.

"Sorry sir . . . but do you know where the nearest bin is? I need to dispose of something."

"Uhh, yeah, we're nearly at it already.", the taller one of the two said, before asking, "...Seriously though, what happened? I'm pretty sure these combined scents of urine and blood are coming from you?". He began to theorize.

"Did you have a really awkward slip while waking up from a nap or what? Need to know where the shower is?"

Yeshua felt offended. This man was making such blatantly demeaning statements with an air of familiarity. And the worst part . . . he made a joke. A joke. The very notion of him commiting a prepubescent act of careless bladder control was an attack on his character. A stupid notion, indeed. The entire tram creeped and stunk of it. Help was not to be called by this particular individual, far from it. His eyebrows furrowed into a more aggressive v shape than most tactical flying formations.

"Have you not ever been on a tram such as this before? These smells are abundant. Now, given your complete lack of understanding of the climate of this area, I will wish you the need to not worry. I'll search for a bin myself."

And yet he stayed frozen, under a gripping shadow.

The other man seemed to slow down, sensing that he said something he perhaps shouldn't have judging by how the man responded, not to mention the reaction on his face. "Oh-oh, Okay... Yeah, alright. It's just after that turn, you'll see it. I'll... be going now.--", He completely stopped and began slowly walking backwards, mildly embarassed, "Uhh, have a good one? I'll be at my bunk."

Yeshua nodded and backed off like he had commited a drug deal with the most disgusting of substances. Forgetting how to walk, he sprayed his legs and scuttled down the hallway. At the turn off, when the window stopped and light had been replaced by a fake, stuffy mimic that flicked every few seconds, the boy turned around, his ebony hair draping half of his vision, to see the gatecrasher he exchanged with bore the marks of an NC pilot. Similar to him, in fact, even though his were not visible under his long hair and gripping coat.

Standing frozen for far too long, he managed the landscape until it became etched into his memory. Forever, this moment of tomfoolery, would be remembered. And immediately thrown overboard, in an effort to save a sinking ship.

He shot behind a wall, feeling wet and sticky. Thumping his forehead with the back of his palm, the handicapped ape grabbed his hair and crushed his eyes.

"What a prime example you are, eh? I stink. Pack a new pair of trousers next time, you fool. You need help. "

A reverbal, primitive groan grew from his pink appendage.

"Help."

The world's heat fell away behind the silent sea of nothing.

Feeling returned to his limbs again.

---

---

---

---

“URTU-07.” The voice of Matthew Alvarez could barely be heard over the sound of screeching metal and hot steam as the tram finally had arrived at New Anchorage’s operational base.

After Graham had asked him about reconfirmation about the time, Matthew had decided to prepare for the greeting as it was a great deal of his job as operations administrator to do so. Truth be told, while he preferred Graham’s direction compared to how Sophia handled things there wasn’t much of a difference in terms of adding new pilots to the operation’s roster. He had done it when Stein Kalfox was incorporated and here he was doing it with the new recruits that came in for their application. Then again, half-a-dozen pilots would take tasking more thoughts than one or two. But he had tasked mundane non-NC pilots in greater amount, so he figured this wouldn’t result in much difficulty. He stood there with datapad in hand, as he adjusted the glasses.

As he awaited the doors to open and the New Anchorage passengers to exit, he waved one of the depot coordinators over. His tone was flat and quiet, but somehow through all of the racket he was audible. “Ms. Pryde.”

“Yes, operations administrator?”

“I want the transport units working fast and efficiently— each NC should be in the NC hangar before Graham steps foot in there. Do you understand?”

“Yes, I’m on it.”

If there was one thing Sophia abandoning New Anchorage did it was increase its efficiency— one of the central reasons Matthew was quite favorable towards Graham’s organizational overhaul. Though, there were many differences of opinion about Graham as soon as he showed up and started “barking” even though Matthew disagreed that the barking was unwarranted. He thought back to the complaints that the Head of NC Analysis before James Lofgren was spouting likening Graham as a “despot”, “corporate wolverine”, and “psychopath”. Matthew had been more than happy to give him his official dismissal. Unfortunately, he wasn’t the first one to share discontent with Graham out of addled paranoia and a lot of the operation took a bit of a hit for it. Infantile emotions had no business of existing when there was a job to do. But New Anchorage recovered from it and was all the better for it. Good riddance.

Ending his thought, he nodded as his hands waved her off, “Good. Go.”

Matthew flipped through the datapad with a pen as he looked over the dossiers he had compiled, though he did so briefly. While he remember the information in his memory he still was helpful to look it over. He was good with information and knowledge… less so with faces. His datapen stopped on a name and face he recognized more than the rest— John Strange or rather as some of the other pilots knew him as, Jingo. It was good to have a familiar proven pilot returning back to New Anchorage. Unlike the rest of the motley crew of pilots, Graham probably wouldn’t require him to go through the introductory process; it would be pretty simply to renegotiate his contract.

He moved his attention to the time in the corner of the datapad. 12:06.

Any minute now.