---

---

---

---

Graham wasn’t deaf and he wasn’t blind— he knew very well that the incident in the Mess Hall had caused a bit of a stir and turned some heads. But Graham wasn’t in this to make quick friends or to handhold sensitive snowflakes— he was here to forge soldiers and pilots. Even if they didn’t like it. That did not matter.

The situation with Percy Moore was one he could’ve handled better though, but he needed to get a glimpse to see if there was any sort of man inside of his body. When he first met the red-haired pilot he thought he saw something in him, a fire that had been fading since his wife’s death, and he was hoping he could stir something in him— to see if he had any bite. If you could not stand up for what you believed in then you didn’t deserved to believe in anything— that was Graham’s belief on the matter. Whatever the lagging pilots thought on the matter, positive or negative, didn’t affect him in the slightest because he knew he was justified in what he did and how he did it. If they did not like it they could forfeit their pay advance and quit.

He inhaled the chemical in the synth as he thought hard on what kind of group he was going to need to break down and rebuild.

He had not been blind to Alexander Sky’s near-insubordination and Stein’s comment regarding the matter that in a corporation he would’ve gotten shot for similar behavior was correct. Graham had seen it in Denver-Vegas when one of the more ornery pilots decided to attack a superior when his sister was being lectured in a similar fashion to what had happened in the mess hall. Thunk! Bang. It was pretty intense when he witnessed it and even though at the time he knew he was a soldier… he didn’t know what the consequences were if you crossed the line that Denver-Vegas drew in the sand. But it made him stronger and he was better for it. He just hoped that these kids would not be so blind to the point of the lesson; but then again they were too emotional and unfocused to even see; though his stone-like expressions probably worked against him. But ever since Elysian he stopped telegraphing his emotions... he stopped wanting to feel them.

As Graham moved through the hangars they got to a large empty— and dimly lit hangar that had been undesignated (as well as closed) during the former commander’s time in New Anchorage. But Graham had repurposed it.

”Hit the lights.”



A solitary generic NC stood in front of Graham and the pilots who were now catching up to his lead. Swiping his synth out of his mouth he turned to face them as smoke exited his lips.

Graham cleared his throat and spoke loudly so all could hear. “Starting tomorrow what you know New Anchorage was is dead. There is work to be done. After tonight every single pilot will be expected to pass a physical evaluation that tests their perception, dexterity, strength, and endurance— this includes an obstacle course, firearms examination, psych analysis, simulator runs, and a review that involves this NC right here. This final test will require you as a NC pilot to demonstrate to me that you can get inside a mech without assistance. No ladders, no lifts, no stairs, nothing; just you and your hands and feet. If you do not pass all of these tests in thirty days you will be deemed unfit for duty and discharged from your contract.”

He flicked the synth off as he put it back in his belt— his hands behind his back.

“Alvarez will forward the schedule to all of you with the updated dossiers of your comrades. You have less than 24 hours to prepare, dread, or quit for the first day of real work. Impress me.”

He looked at each of his pilots—trying to gauge their reactions as well as estimate which ones could achieve the task and which could not. Physicality was important; it played into NC efficiency.

“Welcome to New Anchorage.” Ending the comment Graham decided to stay for a minute before leaving the pilots as is and returning to his office.

“Good luck.”

---

"Wow, that is certainly one way to set up an ultimatum." Whistling in undisguised appreciation, Agatha felt her respect for the Commander rise. It would have been a bit foolish to assume he would just take whoever comes without some screening process, and given the contracts they signed he'd probably confiscate their NCs if they failed so it wasn't a loss on his part. She might have been tempted to question the man himself, maybe reminisce about their first encounter, but at this point he wouldn't bother investing himself in someone who had yet to prove their worth. "Well, better get to working or get to dying. Time ain't with any of us."

Offering a brief salute to their commander Agatha excused herself wordlessly before approaching the pilot she held the highest opinion of, largely for not involving themselves in the mess hall incident- She could not wait for what name the scuttlebut came up for it later on-, Stein Kalfox

"Agatha Smith, pleased to meet you." She greeted, offering her hand to the pilot nearly a third her age. "Pardon my intrusion, but you seem the hardworking sort. Could you show me the ropes around here? I'd rather get to work now so we can get through this testing as smoothly as possible."

“I could familiarize you with essential facilities and information, yes.” The blonde-haired girl replied back with little to no emotion in her reply as her eyes kept on Commander Graham in case he had anything more to say before he left them to their thoughts.

Her reply was about as much as Agatha expected to get from the Ace. Definetly one of the prodigy types. No nonsense behavior in full force with this girl. Still, a unit needed someone who could be the rock in an emotional storm, and she was certain she would grateful to have someone like Stein up on the frontline in the future. "Thank you. Perhaps we could get some physical exercise in together? I'm nowhere near out of shape but I believe you would have a better grasp of the standards our Commander would set--"

A sudden thought occured to her that her statement could possibly be misconstrued as a more promiscuous advance, and hoped she wouldn't make such an assumption.Stein wasn't the type of person you seduced, you earned their trust. Given that Agatha operated as a rather aggresive scout-sniper in the field, it was important that she could trust Stein to do her job just as much as it was for her to trust in Agatha. That kind of bond wasn't something brought forth from mutual attraction, but an understanding of each other's abilties and character that often came from extensive practice and training with each other.

Stein turned her head as Agatha cut herself off, quizzical about the older woman's train of thought. There was a second of silence before the former Volkov pilot monotonously chuckled as she shook her head. “Before Graham there were little standards. No mandatory training, simulation, conditioning— I assure you this is new for New Anchorage.”

Agatha let her hand return to her side as her thoughts turned quizzical as well. No training? Even as an independent Agatha had been expected to keep in shape, even if it was only a part of the pilot culture. There was a reason you never found a fat pilot, at least one that lived very long. Folding her hands comfortableybehind her back she let a competitive, but not condescending, smirk scratch across her face. She was a fellow pilot, not an elder or a grandmosther, and it was never a good idea to act superior until you earned the rank or proved your strength. At the moment, Agatha had done neither. "Well it looks like we are going to have to set the standards then, aren't we?"

Stein eyed the woman, a small smirk rising on her lips. “I would imagine you are out of practice. If you require someone you could easily outpace I suggest challenging someone less adept.”

Smirk broadening at the small fire lit under the former Volkov pilot, Agatha knew she had made the correct choice in approaching her. Stein may very well demolish Agatha in every test and leave her behind in every practise session, but she was confident she'd always be a close second so long as she had that bench mark to strive for. Heck, maybe Stein would find some new motivation as well, or risk being usurped from her lofty throne."If I was looking to bolster my ego I wouldn't be here at New Anchorage. I came to work, and if one of the qualifiers is being in the best damn shape of my storied life, then you can be certain that I will."

“You could be worse off; many of our… comrades lack that discipline—” Stein’s eyes moved to that of another female pilot, the one that Agatha remembered introducing herself as Eli. “—but there are exceptions.”

Following her gaze she landed upon the scarved pilot that irked her earlier. It wasn't fair by any stretch of the imagination to fault her for having the kid, but at the moment she was operating off her gut and past experience. It seemed to serve her well so far, but Agatha was aware it only went so far. Judgement would reserved till after she read up on the dossiers, but she would take the ace's commendation as a mark in her favor. The tightness in her features, however, told her to steer cleer of the pilot for the foreseeable future. That was a painfully familiar expression that left an old knife wound between two her ribs aching dully.

“Hm. Give me a moment.”

Agatha would then notice Stein's eyes shift again, this time to the NC that Graham had designated as their final test. Without a second comment the blonde-haired pilot began moving her feet forward to get a closer look at it. The aged lion wondered what was going through Stein's head as she gazed upon the final-- No, the penultimate test Graham had for them. Live combat was the true measure of their worth, after all. Was she envisioning her own assent? Could she already do it? Agatha flashed a predatory glimpse of her own teeth. Because I know I can.

---

Joe didn't like being subjected to tests, considering he had already shown what he was capable of in previous missions.
As he thought about Graham's statement he noticed a possible loophole, allowing him to possibly circumvent negative consequences of the tests:
Joe didn't think Graham had the authority to relieve him from his sentence to military service, but he couldn't be sure either.

To clarify the situation, Joe followed Graham, and waited until everyone else was either too far away to listen, or busy with something else.
Once the time had come he asked: "Pardon the question, commander, but I'd like to clarify whether or not my sentence interferes with the consequences of failing the tests."

Graham paused as he turned around to look at him as the two stood in a corridor with only a small amount of soldiers nearby. ”There are complications Verona, yes, but it does not excuse you. The fact is while I cannot discharge you like I can any other member of this team, I will tell you that there will be consequences— one of which being that I won’t let you fly Swarm until you pass my tests.”

"I thought so far, but thanks for the assurance." Joe replied, before returning to Unit 01 of the main hangar to continue working on his latest delivery. Before the end of the day he at least wanted to know whether or not he could build a prototype of a long-range-acoustic device from the speakers.

Joe seemed to be immediately greeted by the engineer from before, Katarina Poux. “Oh hey! You’re back! I heard your lunch turned into an important meeting, huh?”

With a sigh, he replied: "Correct, although it wasn't what I'd call useful." His tone changed back to normal: "So, how'd the tests go?"

“Yeah, I can tell by your zombie-like expression! It must’ve been real boring! At least its over with, right? As for the tests things are off to a good start, though I am not sure why you want me to mount a rudimentary sonic cannon to your NC. I don't think I've ever heard of anyone trying to weaponize sound successfuly before— it's kind of genius really if you look at it from a weapon design perspective, but will it work? I wonder if it will work.”

"Well I stumbled upon an article about it in an old archive a few days ago. At its time it was used as a nonlethal weapon against protesters, I mean who likes to stay around in a cone of 150 decibels? But no, that wouldn't be viable in an NC, on its own at least. However, I am sure you know about resonance, and the forces it can generate."

“Well, duh! I mean who doesn’t know about resonance of generated force from an amplified sonic cannon? That's like kids stuff.”

Joe smiled, he didn't expect less from an engineer, but as the son of an engineer, your knowledge about machines and physics usually eclipses that of other normal people: "Well, before we can get to work on the resonance frequencies of other NCs, we first need to get the speakers working, don't we? Before we get to work on the final array, I'd like to set up a prototype from seven speakers, as a proof of concept."

“I can have a working station setup in one of the engineering labs in like thirty minutes, assuming the chief relieves me.”

"Thank you, but for ease of access, I think the small prototype won't take up much space here, in case you can't get a spot right away."

Kat nodded with a light sigh. “Though there are regulations now, so we cannot exactly use the space here. I’ll be back in a few!”

---

---

---

---

While the conversation with Agatha was a pleasant surprise, Stein’s attention had shot back to Graham’s ultimatum— the tests and standards for which the NC pilots would be expected to live up to; expectations that felt more than familiar to the blonde-haired pilot. Unlike some of her peers who may have been panicking at the moment, Stein lacked the same internal emotions. Stein felt that at the very least that Graham was correct in that pilots would be expected to have their physique and mentality reviewed before going out in the field— there were mental and physical dangers elsewise.

As for the generic piece of junk that was called a NC that laid in front of her that Graham described as the final test for his new rules applicable to the pilots?

Thirty days? Tch. That’s not even a challenge.

Her hands rose to the collar of her jacket as she looked over the NC. By her estimates it was around seven meters tall¹, which was under-sized for a medium class NC when it came to the development of the technology considering the average medium class NC of the modern age was around ten to fifteen meters. The NC was probably around two centuries old if she had to make an estimated guess based on its condition, design, and the faded patchwork logo that read what Stein could make out as the DSS Corporation².

Another dead and gone independent corporation. I've never even heard of it.

Stein’s synthweave jacket fell to the floor with a ‘thump’ as she took a step back before going into a half-sprint into the NC— jumping at the right moment as her gloved hands caught one of the metal panels on the right leg of the NC. Pulling herself upward she pushed her feet against another panel as she began to climb. Graham’s test wasn’t today and he had given the pilots some rest to prepare— but Stein considered this solid practice.

She continued to climb.

My last record for climbing a ten meter NC was eight minutes and seven seconds. Let’s go for seven minutes and six seconds.

She pulled upward as she moved into a swing that brought her momentum around the leg until she flipped herself onto the top of it. She was already halfway there and it had been less than four minutes. The exercise was not there to impress, but simply only to do— how it affected her comrades, if they were even watching, was not really her concern. Stein was ready, she had been born that way. When she had been discovered to have the little talent that let people pilot NC’s her father had told her with hand on her shoulder that it was a sign of her talents and of her destiny. She had been chipper, excited, and optimistic going forward even after they drilled implants into her spine. She felt this was her purpose, and if her comrades saw it as showboating or inspirational didn’t matter. She wasn’t doing it for them. She was doing it for herself.

The opinions of others were not important— the fulfillment of yourself and your purpose was.

Stein took a light breath as she reached upwards as she grabbed a latch that stood on the top of the currently locked hub that held the smaller machine gun armament— her fingers gripping tightly as she pulled herself up while her other hand laid flat on the metal paneling next to it. To others below the next few moments seemed to go by with a flash as Stein turned the manual release hatch on the top of the machine thus forcing the mechanics of the mech to open the cockpit’s entrance right next to the sensor “hat”. It was then that Stein sat down on the top of the NC looking down at the people below.

She looked at her watch.

Six minutes and fifty seconds. Faster than I anticipated. Let’s try to beat it again before night call tonight.

She smirked, happy at the result— it was as if, incidentally, the training session before lunch prepared her to not be sloppy.

“Heh.” She muttered.

^1: _{24 feet.}
^2: _{Detroit Security Solutions was a minor corporation up until Fairbanks acquisition of it in the early 26th Century.}

---

The voice telling her to go to her room was still loud, and still right, but she ignored it all the same. The Commander would be expecting productivity, and if she just vanished after they'd gotten the outline for their test, well, it likely wouldn't have looked good no matter how she performed.

Eli had wasted little time in leaving the hangar as soon as they were released. The firearms portion of the upcoming test was undeniably concerning. There really wasn't any other way to put it: she had no experience. They didn't have the money for guns, they had wooden planks and a carpenter friend of the family to whittle them into swords. With a blade it was simple, over time it became an extension of her arm, but she didn't know how to handle recoil, she didn't know how to aim properly, what stance to take or how to breath.

She arrived, alone. It didn't surprise her that Vera had decided to remain behind, Eli assured her she was alright, though she hadn't apologized for snapping. Later, she promised herself. All of it can wait, all of it has to wait.

Hands still shoved into her jacket to hide the trembling, Eli set her sights immediately on the simulation pods.

"Lofgren," she said, a cursory glance shot towards the doctor.

“Eli. It’s been a few days.” The voice of Doctor James Lofgren came from the behind her desk, her eyes glued to the monitor. “Is there something I could help you with?”

"Put a simulation on loop. Which pod?"

“That would require me to know what kind of simulation you need to practice with. VR? NC pod's? What kind of situation?”

Eli instinctively wanted to ask for the NC simulation, perhaps in an effort to redeem herself, despite the fact that perhaps three people were aware of the last run. But then, the opportunity to knock out two birds with one stone was both tempting and objectively the smarter choice. She clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth, once, twice. "Start with VR."

“Scenario? Difficulty?”

"Invasion, defense, surprise me." A twinge of regret sparked through her when she said it, but it was too late to back out. She didn't need a handholding, she needed to pass the test without humiliating herself.

There was a few strokes of the blue-haired woman’s mechanical keyboard as Eli told her the variables she wanted— though given the last time she “surprised” Eli it ended up pretty poorly for her. She didn’t protest the pilot’s pseudo-masochism in choosing Lofgren’s own need to test the mental brink of her subjects. “Prefrence for your starting equipment?”

"Kukri, make the blade forearm length, a serrated bowie, and..." Eli's brow went low, she tried to run through the list of firearms she knew off the top of her head, and found it disappointingly short. "A SAP...handgun. Fourteen."

“I’ll warm up the VR room, I’ll sync your neural plug into the program.” More strokes on the keyboard, “Ever been in VR before?”

"Does it matter?"

“Interesting. VR is very vivid, but you’ve been in pods so you might adapt well enough. Much more organic— feels like you are actually moving. The injuries sustained are recieved at a threshold that is double your sync rate; as the pain receptors go directly to your central neural plug to simulate real-time. Commaner Graham nearly spent half of his personal cashflow into New Anchorage to make it up to date. It makes our NC pods seems two-hundred years old. Which... well, they are. But that is besides my point,, Eli.”

She paused for a moment as she looked away from the computer to Eli. “In short, it will hurt like hell.”

Eli matched eyes with the doctor, clicked her tongue again. She hadn't forgotten their last exchange, the doctor's snide remarks were fresh in her mind, alongside every justifiable criticism she'd ever recieved. "If I get hit."

“Indeed.” She looked back down at her computer, “It is ready— large door at the back of the lab. You can’t miss it. Good luck.”

Good luck, Eli didn't need luck, she didn't want luck, luck wouldn't protect the people in New Anchorage. Luck was a handicap for the untrained, if she succeeded, it would not be at the hand of some cosmic fluke. Her victories were hers, earned, taken.

With that, Eli shed her coat and scarf, pushing her hands into her pockets and making her way into the room.

---

Tahlia listened to Graham's last words, noting that there would be a physical evaluation and that they had only one month to train before they needed to participate in this test. She smiled to herself, knowing that for the most part she would be able to pass many of the required tasks. All she had to do was brush up on the skills that she learnt from back home and make sure that her time away from the Land Down Under hadn't had any overall impact. There was however one issue that she was not pleased about. A seven meter tall issue that stood right in front of where Tahlia had ended her tour.

The last time Tahlia had stepped into a true bipedal NC was when she was in her teenage years. While the physical appearance may have been similar to what the AFW Mk.8 in Bipedal mode, the internals was where everything changed with the thought process being very different. It was different in the same way that a car and a motorbike were different. Everyone knows how to use the indicator and when to check the mirrors, but the added difference was understanding how to balance the vehicle, that the gear changes are on foot pedals, and the accelerator is in the wrist controls.

"So this is why they are issuing me a loan NC," Tahlia spoke out, as she watched Stein bound up the monster like an ape climbing a tree. It wasn't the only reason as Tahlia knew that her NC would need a fair amount of work in order to bring it back up to spec, but this new piece of knowledge was a major hurdle indeed. She turned away, pushing her bag back up onto her shoulder, and slowly walked down the open hangar until she eventually ended up at her bay. Hangar Bay #08.

Tahlia's feet came to a standstill, landing on a channel grate at the hangar entrance with a echoing chime as she looked up and saw the toy that she had learnt to play with for several, long years. The brown and gunmetal grey NC loomed over two men who were at it's base, sitting at a table, on milk crates, with a deck of cards between them. They paused for a moment, looking up at the unusual woman that was standing at the open entrance.

"Is this your beat-up pile of crap?" One of the men called out, checking to see if Tahlia was the pilot.

Tahlia walked towards the table with a smile on her face, "Yep. Won't deny it. She's cactus alright." She picked up a third crate and dropped it on the ground next to the table, taking a seat with the two others and tapped the surface with her fingers, indicating that she wanted a set of cards dealt to her. They looked at her with a curious gaze, noting the jacket that she was wearing and her obvious Asian appearance.

"So then you're Tahlia Styles, I assume," the individual with the deck in his hand spoke out, giving a reverse introduction and dealing out a pair of cards to each of them.

Tahlia nodded as she noted the 5 face down cards that were placed in the centre of the table, making it now obvious that she had entered into a Texas Hold'em match. She asked back, "And you two are?"

"Philip," Philip flipped the first card over, showing it's face value.

"Thomas," Thomas pushed a pile of nuts and bolts over to Tahlia, giving her some chips to play with. "We got allocated Hangar #08 so it looks like we'll be working under you, Miss Styles."

"Since you already know my name, then I assume you've read up about what needs to be done to my NC?" Tahlia picked up the cards, holding them hidden and checking out the face values.

"Naturally, but it doesn't look good. Going to need a LOT of parts to get this puppy back to life. Dead Fuel Cell, every weapon has some form of damage, and your Trakdar System is filled with software bugs. We also heard that you'll be practising your sync in the old Mad-e unit over there." Thomas pointed his finger to a hangar further down from which the Mad-e could just be seen sticking out of, "Shame really, cause young Madison is still in a coma, meaning that the NC hasn't been used since her incident. When you're ready, just give us a shout and we'll set it up for you."

"Alrighty then. So tell us a bit more about this place and the pilots. We'll look at starting work on my NC tomorrow, but for now... I need a break from the clowns I've been stuck with all day."

The two men chucked lightly as they each started to place their bids.

---

An excited thrill shot up Agatha's spine as she watched Stein take to climbing the clunker NC like an ape to the jungle. It seemed to her that Stein was itching to get to work, a sentiment that was most certainly shared between the two. Her mind was already working out the best course up the mech. Opting to take a different course than that of the Ace, Agatha moved to stand behind the NC's opposite leg. . "You know, I think I've scrapped a few of these over the years." She snickered while rolling her shoulders to try and ease the kinks in her back from the long train ride over. Unlike Stein, she didn't benefit from having recently completed a heady workout session, but that wouldn't stop Agatha from performing such a banal task.

Capitalizing on years of experience and having an extra inch over Stein in the height department, Agatha crouched and leapt for the joint in the NC's leg. There really wasn't a need for conscious thought in her ascent. While she only had about fourteen years of experience under her belt in combat, which she was concerned for how the others would take that news, she hadn't stopped operating her NC one bit over the course of her retirement. Given that the Charon stood proudly at thirteen meters tall from top to toe, she was confident she could have done this with her eyes closed.

Having pulled herself onto the joint she found there was enough room to rise to her feet and shimmy up the leg strut till she could reach the cannon affixed opposite the machine gun Stein had traversed. The differences in their methodology for scaling the NC was apparent to the aged pilot. Stein had the edge in acrobatics and likely endurance as well. Oh, Agatha could probably outrun Commander Graham, knowing his lungs would give out long before hers, but Stein probably took just as much care of her body as Agatha did at her age and was bolstered by being in the prime of her life. Still, while Agatha wasn't an equal in endurance, she compensated with experience and bursts of energy.

Pulling herself up onto the cannon, she smoothly rose to her feet, finding an easy balance atop the rounded barrel. A short hop brought her to the sloped top of head of the NC. Walking around the seated Ace she knelt beside the manual release hatch and forced it back into the default position, sealing the cockpit once more. Agatha sat down with her back to Stein, though not being so forward as to lean against her. "Hmm, that felt closer to eight minutes than seven. Mind if I ask you time my next run? It's a bit of a pain keeping track of time while I climb, and I'm not quitting until I can do this with one hand tied behind my back." Who knows when you had to scale your NC with a broken arm? Or firing your sidearm at an invading force? Or carrying a wounded comrade? Victory favores the prepared, and survival favores the victorious. Her voice turned teasing as she glanced back over her shoulder. "Unless you are giving up for the day after just one climb?"

Alexander held his temples as the others talked. Physical tests, battle training, climbing a junk NC; all of those were making him dizzy. He would have been enthusiastic before, but the hits to the head kinda blocked any desire for exertion at present. So, he went to the nearest staff member, and asked for directions to his designated quarters in the pilot's section of the barracks. Once he recieved them, as well as a passkey to his room, the twenty-four year old began walking, trying to will himself to get past the pain and depression.

As he arrived to his room without incident, he would find that his luggage had been neatly set down inside the chamber, but right now, the young man just wanted to...sleep. Slumping down on the bed, the NC Pilot began to get some attempt at rest. However, despite his exhaustion his anxiety and dread would take form in his subconciousness and the dream he would begin having slowly twisted itself into a nightmare.

In a cold and sterile surgeon's room, filled with the smell of antibiotics and cleaning agents, the six-year old was lying down on a bed, clad only in a hospital gown; the situation was meant to be humiliating without being indecent. Looking at him were three surgeons, whose masks and protective wear made them look identical except for their eyes. The strong lights above outlined them, making them look more shadowy than they really were. The space was large, slightly more so than necessary, so as to produce fear in those taken to it.

"To think that a gaijin slave like him would be compatible with one of our NCs..." the leftmost doctor said, in a tone of disbelief. "And a son of mere infantryfolk, too!"

"Nevertheless," said the central doctor, "we're implanting the plugs into him right now - why?"

"So that he would remember the pain," the rightmost doctor said, "It's basic; a child wants to avoid pain, and would, when faced with someone capable of inflicting that pain, try and please them in order to not get hurt."

"That's better," said the leftmost surgeon. "We're teaching him his place. So, no anastethic?"

"None," the central doctor then turned Alex over, exposing his back to full view. The other surgeons then strapped the six-year old to the bed, and stuffed a small gag into his mouth in order to prevent him from biting his own tounge in the following moments. Then, the boy saw a glimpse of steel --

And the world filled with pain.

"Don't hurt me, don't hurt me," Alex tossed and turned over on his bed, "please..."

"But if I'm to be a pilot," Alexander, one year later, was now asking, "why can't I get an NC till I'm eighteen?"

"You need to be prepared," Present!Alexander could not remember the source of the voice, "you see, people think that just because you have white skin, that you will turn against us."

"I won't!" shouted Alexander, "I'm a good slave!"

"That you are," the voice was sounding more feminine now. "You will serve us well."

A hand, with two pills on the palm.

"Now, swallow them; be a good slave," and Alexander took a glass of water - in the flashback, it had just appeared, and then drank obediently, before lying down on a bed in a fugue state.

The next dream was set in a sterotypical Australian Desert, and was about Tahlia, the Half-Asian beauty saying:

"Obey, slave," before she pulled out a whip from out of nowhere, and began hitting Alexander as he held out his arms to shield his face.

"You are nothing," she then kicked him on the stomach and shins, forcing him down to the ground. "You are beneath me. Are you scared, little boy? Because I'm going to give you something to fear."

"No!" Alexander then pulled out his Jian - from where he also didn't know - and cut 'Tahlia' in half, causing her to disperse into motes of darkness...which then reformed into Graham.

"Insubordinate. Child. Spoiled By Overindulgent Employers. Immature. You Deserve Nothing," the man was saying, stone-faced. Alexander sheathed his Jian and strapped it onto his back, before saying:

"Is this what you call order?! What use is law if it cannot give future generations a life better than present ones?!" In response, Graham smirked... then turned into Percy just as the scene turned into the New Anchorage Mess Hall again.

"I don't like you, you're a creep," 'Percy' was now saying, "and you did nothing for me. Go away and never approach me again." The sound of soft footsteps were heard, and suddenly, Joe was behind Alexander.

"No one cares about you," the thin, vampire-like man was now saying to the brunette. "None of us oldies care about you, none of your fellow new pilots care about you, no one likes you, you're alone."

"Just go and commit suicide already."

Alexander tried to wake up, to banish the dreams, but he couldn't; his body was demanding that he stay asleep. So he stayed, he stayed in the nightmare.

---

Good luck? Percy's mouth was agape. Are you kidding me? That's all you're gonna fucking give us?

He continued to stand there, just staring at the monster in front of him. He's supposed to climb that with no ropes? No ladders? Nothing to keep him from dying if he fell? Is Graham out of his goddamned mind? He shuts his mouth, answering himself just as quickly, Why do I bother questioning these people's sanity anymore? They're all nuts. How could ANYONE climb that thing and not slip, fall, and shatter their head on the floor? Nobody is going to pass that!

Then he saw Stein going for it, feeling the subtle vibrations of her sprinting forward. He immediately shouted, "Stein!" attempting to grab her before she got herself hurt, or killed, but she was too fast. He put his hand to his mouth and just watched in horror as she started the climb, silently praying that he wouldn't have to run and break her fall with his entire body.. He probably wouldn't be a very nice cushion anyway. They'd both probably get hurt then. As he continued to watch, the horror turned into shock, then fascination quickly followed by defeat as he noticed Agatha climbing just as well as Stein was. He sat down to watch the two for however long it took, trying to comprehend how in the hell he'd ever be able to do that. He climbed trees as a kid just fine, sure, but they were never that tall. They were maybe half that? Less, even? Plus he always had his parents to catch him if he fell. There wasn't anything to break the high fall if they were to slip.

As the two made it to the top, he felt absolutely defeated. An old woman climbs better than I do. he covered his face with his hands.

I really should've just become an engineer.

---

---

Vera didn't like leaving Eli alone, especially when she was making bogus promises about being alright, but she'd learned well enough over the years that arguing with her was more than just hard, it was pointless. Later she'd check the room, but until then, Vera had other things on her mind, like the incident in the mess hall. Holding attention through that was... tough, to say the least, and it was tougher watching Ana run off like she had. If Percy was going to be preoccupied, she figured someone should make sure she felt at least a bit safe. Then again, she'd likely have run by anyway, it was practically reflex. She didn't have trouble navigating the facility alone anymore, the explorations had paid off well, and she was at the barracks outside the Moore's room before long. She thought about trying to open it and go right in, that was how she handled Eli, but Ana had specific instructions, rules were safe, she'd follow them. So instead, Vera gently tapped her knuckles against the metal.

"Ana? It's me, you in there?" she asked, voice soft.

Ana very nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard the knocking, letting out a shout of surprise, grabbing for a pillow to protect herself with. She felt a little dumb for doing so when she heard Vera. How would a pillow protect me anyway? It'd be like hitting them with a cottonball. She let herself breathe and steady her voice before she answered.

"Yeah," she waited a moment for a response, then decided to stand up and walk over to the door, going to open it. She hesitated just as her fingers touched the knob. Percy said not to open it for anyone but him, but Vera's not Graham, or anyone else. Vera's nice, and cool, and fun, and not that much bigger than her. She stood there for another second before unlocking and turning the knob and opening the door to Vera could come in. "Hi."

Stay relaxed, keep your hands out, just move slow. Vera smiled, offering a slight wave but staying put. "Hey, how're ya feelin'? You can keep the door closed if you want."

"No, come in, it's fine," Ana opened the door more so Vera could get in. When the blonde did, she shut and locked the door behind her.

"The tour's over," Vera walked around Ana, giving as wide a space as she could on her way to the bed. "Your dad made it through alright."

Ana noticed how much space that Vera was giving her and looked at her quizzically for a moment - usually she's not that particular about space. Maybe it's cause I'm weird, was Ana's first thought, but she dismissed that pretty quickly. It was stupid to think that. It was more than likely cause of what had happened in the mess hall. She sat down with Vera on the bed, swinging her legs a little bit as she replied, "Good to know."

She stayed quiet a moment before her face changed from neutrality to disappointment. She got to thinking about Graham, and his behavior when she had risen her voice. He was scary before, but when he looked at her like he was ready to smack her to the floor like she did her dad, he was so much worse. She spoke again, in a quieter voice, "I thought that Graham was alright."

"Yeah?" Vera took the opportunity to scoot closer. "I think he's kind of a dick...don't tell Lizzy I said that."

Ana gasped when Vera said 'dick', a little bit of a smile showing. Her disappointment and sadness immediately shifted to a giggly disbelief, "You can't say that, that's dirty."

Vera skipped the giggling phase and went straight to laughing. "This whole place is dirty, did you see the food? I bet it's still alive."

Ana's giggling got louder and sounded more like laughter than just giggles, "Veraa..!" the redhead gave her a gently friendly shove.

The older girl let herself fall back on the bed, still in her fit. She'd been worried that Ana might have been locked up in herself, to see her laughing and joking was a definite relief.

"So did you uh..." she sat up, tugging the ushanka back into place. "Did you know about the whole...testing thing?"

Ana's laughter faded before Vera had asked. "Well.. I, uh.. I think I heard Graham talk about a test once, but I didn't think it had anything to do with.. us. Dad says that being a pilot's really dangerous. I dunno if I'd wanna do that. I didn't even know people our age could do it. I thought it was an adult thing, like guns and those magazines with the pretty women in them.. You've seen those magazines right? The women are really pretty. Dad got mad at me cause I looked through one once."

Ana stopped herself before she could ramble on about it too much. She went way off topic and she knew it. Her reddened face showed that she knew she did, but it could easily be taken as embarrassment about talking about it with her friend. She looked at her hands clasped together in her lap and twidled her thumbs trying not to add to the awkward.

Vera cleared her throat, hand rubbing the back of her neck like the room had gone cold. This was not the conversation she expected.

"Yeah the uh...I guess it's kinda like that...Except wait, wait no no it's nothing like that, we can't do that. Don't do that." She got up fully, and desperately grabbed at her thoughts for a way to push the topic on. Poor Ana looked like a tomato. "I dunno, it just feels like one of those things that was... super obvious, and I feel dumb being surprised. Lizzy doesn't want me to do it either."

"Then we probably won't. Graham can't make us get in there, right? Dad and Eli won't let him," Ana felt her stomach lurch a little as she thought about it. Percy had said he wouldn't let anything happen before, but.. He kind of did. She could feel tears start to well up in her eyes as she kept thinking about it. Getting taken, not being able to fight back, her father nowhere in sight..

"Dad won't let him. Right?"

She bit her lip slightly trying to keep herself calm. She never cried in front of Vera before, and she didn't want to, but the more she kept trying to keep herself from crying the more she did. She weakly apologized, hiding her face in the pillow she had grabbed before, hugging it tightly, hoping maybe digging her nails into the pillow would help her emotions.

"Wh—" Vera felt her heart sink, but a little step back wasn't unexpected. She scurried over close, rubbing Ana's shoulders and shaking her head, even if the younger girl couldn't see it. "No no, no don't worry alright? We'd have to...there's tests, we might just fail'em, then nothing happens at all!"

"I don't wanna get stuffed in a box again," Ana couldn't keep herself from saying it - she knew that it sounded dumb, but that's about how it felt before. It felt like she was stuffed into a box full of people when the attack happened. It was hot and horrible and cramped and she never wanted to feel like trapped that again, and if she was going to get put into the pilot's seat of an NC, that's basically just a box with a bunch of buttons and lights. She looked up at Vera, tears still rolling down her face and in her eyes as she gasped, "I'm sorry, I-I'm d-dumb and weird I'm s-sorry for doing th-this."

"No no no you're not, you're not dumb okay? Vera didn't hesitate to wrap her arms around Ana, but she had to be careful. She'd made promises before that she knew she couldn't keep, and if she'd learned anything, it was that temporary relief wasn't worth the pain it caused later on, for both people.

"Listen," she pulled back enough to look Ana in the eyes, resting the soft fabric of the ushanka against the younger girl's forehead. "No matter what happens, you're not gonna be alone, okay? If Percy can't be there, I'll be there, I promise. You will never be put anywhere alone, if you go, I go."

Ana sniffled, then smiled at her, even though she was still crying, "Anywhere?"

You're dam--dang right. Vera smiled, and nodded confidently. "Everywhere."

Ana got the pillow out from between them, tossing it back to where the other two pillows are, then hugged Vera again. The blonde Russian girl was like a sister she never had, or even knew she wanted. She was nice, and cool, and she was there when she needed her. The talk they just had proved it. If her dad messed up somewhere, then she had Vera.

"I love you," Ana said, completely and utterly meaning it.

"Love you too," she muffled a laugh. "And hey, if we do pass, I bet we'll be so freaking cool."

Ana giggled again, nodding.

Joshua, for not a few minutes, just sat in a corner of the hangar and watched the others, sort of frightened and just thinking hard. One of them, with a mechanical hand, yelled "Stein!" and was seemingly scared for that one to fall and crack her head open like an egg. Not to mention, halfway through her climbing of it the older lady, Agatha, he thought, joined in and followed suit. Both of them were fairly quick in achieving what was asked of them.

Joshua just waited for them to finish and for the other man to... do anything, really. When it was all said and done, with this cybernetic individual still standing there gawking, Joshua slowly walked up to behind him, then continued to the feet of the of the glorified wreck of an NC. Getting onto a foot, he then inched along the top from unintended foothold to unintended foothold until he got to the base of the torso area, but he soon realized he couldn't safely get to the cockpit from here. It was far too much of an angle, necessitating him to 'monkeybar' his way to the front, but he highly suspected he needed to be a bit stronger for that course of action.

Not wanting to find out just yet, he then traced his steps back to the ground before he realized he didn't time himself at all. Probably three or five minutes, though. Proportionately slower then those other two for sure, sadly. Wordlessly, he then searched for a general 'Gopher', asked where he could acquire his room-keys, then after a short jaunt throughout the base got them and went towards his temporary abode, unpacking things from his backpack, but still holding unto his knife in secret.

He had no idea where he got this feeling from, but he swore to god that this knife would change his life for the better one day. This, specific knife. Like some sort of serial murderer he even gave it a name and personalized it a bit over the years. A black-tinted, matte blade with serrations to cut through foilage and fauna alike, that didn't reflect light, and his own initials on one side, with the knife's own 'name' on the other. 'Chance the Knife', he christened it, like a kid who just got the best toy ever. Of course, unlike that kid he had this knife for a while.

He flipped it around, nearly fumbling and cutting off his thumb by accident, until he nonchalantly put it into his pocket for possible later use. Soon afterwards, after dispersing the contents of his backpack throughout the room (Various snacks being hidden at key points for 'emergency rations'), he dumbly flopped on his bed and just sat there for a few minutes, not intending to sleep just yet.

He thought to himself while testing the mattress apparently. I hope my NC is fine... Should check.

A little while later, he had his room-key in a death grip and locked his room behind him while he wandered about, attempting to find the hangar once more.

---

---

---

---

For the first time since she arrived at New Anchorage, Stein felt herself a little impressed.

Though Agatha’s insistence that she could do it until she could do so with one hand behind her back was an amusing one for Stein personally and while the former Volkov Corporation pilot was more than happy to continue a few more runs on climbing the old NC she had not exactly intended to do such an activity until nightfall. There were a variety of things to show the older NC pilot that extended to functions around the base and while she was sure Agatha could familiarize herself with the maps sent to her datatool, there was also the whole precedent of the fact that she had asked Stein if she could show her the “ropes” and Stein didn’t exactly say no to the request. However, that was until a phrase flew out of Agatha’s mouth that caused Stein’s train of thought to drop and the blonde-haired girl’s confident smirk to become even more apparent. While Stein hadn’t been one to “telegraph” her emotions in most of her adult life, the feel of actual competition combined with the thrill of competition brought out the bite of her codename on the battlefield in tandem.

"Unless you are giving up for the day after just one climb?"

“Heh.”

As the two female pilots dismounted the NC and made their way back to its feet, Stein could feel some adrenaline come over her.

“I would assume you are the one who would tire sooner due to your accelerated age. I thought you wanted me to show you the “ropes” but if you desire to be beaten by my time consistently I suppose I can offer you that pleasure.”

"Oh we got a month to go over the ropes, and plenty of time tomorrow, but right now wouldn't it be good to set the bar for everyone else? I'm actually offended Graham thought this even qualified as a test!"

Stein remained silent as she looked at Agatha, as if not understanding what the phrase meant; though she did quite understand it, she just didn't believe it. While she understood fully about meeting standards, Stein never quite understood inspiring others in the context of standards when in her experience standards were the same for her comrades so she shouldn’t need to raise them up when it was expected of them to meet standards on their own merits. Set the bar? Why?

Agatha blinked in mild surprise. "Mean's setting a standard to strive to surpass, like a higher rung on a ladder that you strive to climb. If we just settled on our first time and called it good enough, we wouldn't get any better than we are now."

“I know what the phrase infers. It isn’t my job to inspire people, it is my job to meet expectations.”

"It isn't in your job to help me out or even climb this NC right now, but you did. Frankly, it's in everyone's interest to bolster each other's standards. Why trust the artillery at the rear not to frag you if you didn't have faith in their skill? Or that the Sniper is going to be watching your back? It's very rare to wind up on sortie alone, so if we don't push our comrades to a higher standard then we do everyone here a disservice."

Stein wasn’t sure if she agreed with the sentiment Agatha was stating, but she was right— she did do it without need to at the very moment. But it was more about her making sure she had not fallen so far off the wagon to be unable to perform. Despite there not being a test at this moment with Graham watching her expecting achievement or failure there was someone else looking over her shoulder, someone far more important than Graham or Agatha— Stein’s personal standards and expectations.

“Trust is not a word I prescribe to. Everybody should be working at maximum efficiency; they should aspire to live up to the expectations ordered and not have to be handholded. The weak suffer in the shadow and need abstract fantasies of “hope”, the strong know what is required and do it. That’s a fact.”

"Does everyone just know how to be strong? I don't remember turning ten and thinking I can climb a NC and shoot the wings off a fly from 500ft away. The weak, as it were, may still have the potential to be strong, but it needs something or someone to bring it out. At some point you had to have trained or been through something that motivated you. A mentor, a conflict, something."

“Your exaggeration is a logical fallacy.” Stein took a light breath as she shook her head, “When I was ten I was required to do a lot of things— climbing a NC was one of them. But you are correct in that I had to be trained, but those who are pilots should know of the requirements of our station. NC's are not toys and piloting them is not a game. I do not understand independents who think otherwise.”

Agatha sighed, not looking offended at the jab at her past. "Respect and standards have to be instilled. I understand your concern, and there have been many times i wished the world was such, but it is impractical to expect every pilot to have the same standards expected of them without a military background. As I'm sure you noticed in the cafeteria and your own life, some pilots start as children. Do you really think Moore would expect Ana, if she is compatible, to perform as well as you or I? If it was just up to him, she would be a soon-to-be-dead pilot. At Graham's standards she'd be decent. What would she be like held to your standards?"

“That ignores the fact that she is untrained. She would have to be trained and conditioned before being expected to any standards. I do not presume she will be decent, bad, or good.” Stein's eyes moved to her left as she crossed her arms, catching a glance at Percy as his own voice became apparent as he entered the conversation, which even to Stein was not too surprising consider the two pilots were talking about his daughter. An unnerving feeling grew over Stein as he did so.

"My child isn't going to be a pilot," Percy said, "It's not happening. I'd kill Graham before I let that hap—"

“—No, you wouldn’t. You’re a coward. If you were going to stand up to Graham like he wanted you to, it would have been in the Mess Hall.” Stein interjected, brows narrowed.

"I wasn't about to do it in front of my kid." Percy wasn't exactly lying when he said that, but he was definitely afraid he'd get his ass handed to him, too. He wasn't exactly as big as Graham was.

"Huh, I wasn't the only one who got that impression? Moore, if you wanted your daughter out of this life, you would have gotten out first. But no, you'd rather cower here than carve out a new life. Say if you did try and assault Graham? You wind up dead, the commander maybe as well, and Ana is left behind with nothing but a desperate New Anchorage and your empty NC."

Agatha spat, her disdain for Percy clear. "Whether you admit it or not, all you've left that girl is a life built around NCs, even if she can't pilot she is still going to be drawn to 'em because it will be the only legacy you leave her."

"She's not going to be drawn to it!" Percy raised his voice - this has got to be the most he's ever risen it in one day. "She knows it's dangerous! I've told her over and over again that it's not going to happen for as long as I live! She's not doing it!"

Agatha's face grew taught as it flashed with anger. "You told her you wouldnt let Graham test her. Your word is already shit to us, and it will be to her soon enough."

"SHE'S NOT DOING IT." Percy didn't mean to get so angry, but god damn it these two were driving him over the edge. He had his fists clenched like he wanted to just let out all the stress in his mind on their damned faces, but he stayed standing there, shaking. He had more he wanted to say, but his brain was a hazy mess full of insults, objections, panic.

"Moore, I thought you were a poor father before, but I can say you are a wretched human as well."

The redhead pilot didn't say anything in response. Any urge to get violent immediately disappeared. He just stood there, not sure how he could even reply to that. He's always feared he was a bad father. He thought he was bad the first time he had screamed at Ana when she was a baby to just shut up because he couldn't get her to stop crying. He thought he was awful when he had given her just a little bit of alcohol to help her sleep. But she was alive, so he thought he did alright. She's happy. He could feel his throat tense the way it did when he was about to start sobbing, but he kept his calm. Mostly.

The aged lioness stood expecting a punch, a kick, or even just more toothless threats. His lack of response left her snorting in barely restrained fury. "This, Moore, is why you are a damned coward. If this was your best, then it was pathetic. I would deck you for ruining that child of yours if not for the evident fact that she has clearly taken after her mother!"

"And I'm glad she did."

Stein shook her head, “If you two are done bickering, I would like to get something fundamentally useful done instead of wasting my time with this conversation. But I will end my interest here with one thing, Moore, you need to straighten up before something worse than a harmless neurological exam happens. The likelihood that your daughter can pilot a NC is less than fifty percent. Cheers.”

As Stein began walking away she could see that Agatha did the same as she broke away from Percy, her eyes turning towards the NC as she let her own anger bleed away. Percy Moore wasn't worth the effort if he couldn't defend himself. With a final, monstrous exhale she turned back to Stein. "I think I can appreciate your view more, Stein. Can you show me around now? I need to bleed myself dry doing something worthwhile."

“Of course. I'm due for another run, anyway.”

---

---

---

---

Michael Graham sighed as he pushed his back against the wall of the corridor he was standing in as the pilot quarters were only a few footsteps in front of him. As far as days went Graham felt today was pretty shit for what he was expecting— he knew it was going to be challenging coordinating, training, and conditioning both of the newer pilots and the original ones but to the extent of what he had experienced was ridiculous. Insubordination, unprofessionalism, inane flirtation, unruly antics; there was no end to the problems. Though, despite his frustrations he was sticking to his schedule and plans. He looked back to the two soldiers that were accompanying him to the next particular item that was on his list of things he needed to take care of. It was barely after 1300 hours and he could feel a tension growing in his gut.

The next item on the list was something he had told Tahlia Styles when he was getting the pilots sorted— two children had a doctor’s appointment and he intended to make them understand the clarity of what it entailed because he knew full well that they were probably quite rattled after the incident in the Mess Hall. An incident that frustrated him to no end— had Percy had the gall to attempt to strike him he would’ve had some measure of respect for the man, but what he did was cower in the shadow of his threats even as he used Percy’s deceased wife as an incentive. If anyone ever spoke ill of the woman he cared about he would’ve nearly ended them without a second thought. There was no question about that. How could a man be so weak and spineless? He had the gall to tell him “no” to the matter of his daughter— but that was only for a second.

Damned independents.

The dark-haired man walked forward to Moore’s quarters— he would go to Jackspar’s next. He pressed his palm against the datatool on his wrist and the doors slid open and his expression turned from stone to pleasant surprise as he noticed both of the children he needed to talk to. He held his spare hand to the guards as if telling them to stay back.

“Ana Moore. Vera Voloshyna. I need to talk to both of you.”

Ana nearly shrieked. She had definitely locked the door, but there the commander was, standing in what she percieved as an ominous posture; the shock on her face showed just how horror-stricken she was. She just looked up at Graham with fearful tears in her eyes. She had a thought to throw the lamp on the bedside table as hard as she could at his face and just run, but she noticed the two guards behind him. That idea wouldn't work. She'd get shot. She just sat there, clinging to Vera like her life depended on it, trying to think of anything she should do to get him out of the room.

Graham sighed— they were tense and Ana was obviously frightened. He didn’t blame her in the slightest considering what had happened in the Mess Hall; he had goaded her father, used her mother’s name inappropriately, and created a tone that probably made her uncomfortable. He remembered the feeling when the guns came from Denver-Vegas to take him when he was the same age. He was sympathetic towards the feeling but he was not here to tell her what she was going to do, but he needed to give her as well as Vera some clarity of the particular situation all three of them found themselves in. As he entered the room more fully he took a seat on the bench adjacent to the door, his expression the opposite of what he had showed in the Mess Hall only an hour prior.

“There’s no need to be afraid. This is a conversation.”

Ana stayed there, still clinging to the older girl, trying not to show just how scared she was by looking at threatening as an eight year old can look.

"You're not allowed in here." She managed to say, her voice wavering slightly. She honestly surprised herself with how forceful her voice was; she expected to sound like a little baby.

Vera gently pulled herself away from Ana, enough to at least move her arms around, but kept a hand on her shoulder. To his credit, Graham didn't seem or sound as sharp as he had before, but that didn't change the fact that he was, despite all offical facts, unwelcomed in the room. With a quick smile to Ana, Vera met Graham's eyes as best she could. It wasn't too hard, he was big, and strong, but Ms. Jackspar had eyes like frostbite. Just looking into them hurt. She could manage here like she managed then. "Let's hear it, sir."

Even if she wasn't too fond of him, Lizzy had taught her again and again that superiors were just that, and deserved respect. Officially, anyway.

“I’ve scheduled a neurological exam for both of you— and I know it is a concept either of you might be nervous about considering the altercation earlier. But this exam does not include any surgeries or health risks that you might think. It is harmless. Believe me that I have been in your shoes and when I learned about it when I was nine years old I was equally as frightened as I was excited.”

Ana looked like she was actually thinking about putting that earlier, stupid plan into action. She didn't have the patience in that moment to even think about what Graham was saying - her dad said not to let anyone in, and she already felt a little bad about letting Vera in, but then Graham just.. letting himself in? She was on edge. She glanced at the lamp for a moment before speaking again, "I'm trying to be nice, and my dad is gonna be really mad if you're not gone when he gets back. Please leave the room."

“I’m sorry, but I can’t do that. This is more important than your father's... feelings.”

"Well, I'm sorry, but Dad matters more to me than you do." Ana shrugged slightly, but was also staring daggers into Graham; she didn't even realize she was, but she did know she was getting angry and overwhelmed.

“That is understandable. I can relate to that. But this isn't about your father, me commanding him, or anything like that. This is about you.” The military commander turned his glance slightly. “Vera? You like you have something to say.”

Vera frowned, at this rate they'd both be dragged out of the room, then Percy might hear, Lizzy might hear, and she knew nothing good could possibly come from that. Graham was right, this wasn't about Percy, this wasn't about anyone else, but it could very easily turn otherwise. Giving Ana's shoulder a soft squeeze, she tried to convey as much confidence in her eyes as she had to give, then nodded to Graham. "This is just the test? We might fail it anyway?"

Her tone suggested she already knew the answer, but she wasn't asking for herself. Graham’s reply was a light nod as he leaned back in the bench with his arms behind his neck— his eyes moving to the ceiling for a moment. “Less than 50% of the world’s total population has the ability to synchronize with neural plug technology. That’s, of course still a lot of individuals but really it is a hopeful gamble that we play; so it’s a chance, not a guarantee.”

"And if we pass." more said than asked.

Ana was still not enthused by Graham's prescense. She already broke the rule of "don't open the door" once with Vera, and she didn't want to get in trouble for it with Graham. She took a smaller pillow and actually threw it at the commander, aiming for his face - she knew it wouldn't hurt, but she was hoping maybe he'd get her damn memo at that point. There was still that perfectly good - and actually rather heavy - lamp aching to be launched at his stupid face.

Graham weaved his head to the right, dodging the pillow with a smirk before he returned his glance from the ceiling to Vera. “If you pass, you decide if you want to sign a contract as a pilot of New Anchorage. Assuming either of you want to go through the painful surgical procedures and accept the responsibility of that role. If you agree to those terms then I would see about acquiring NC parts for you. Ultimately following the evaluation, it is your choice and your choice alone. Not mine, not Percy's, not Eli's. Yours.”

Graham stood up from his seat and made for the door.

“I think that is all I wanted to tell you girls, so I am going to go to my office. But I want both of you to report to Dr. Lofgren for an exam whenever you can. I’ll let you discuss it on your own. I’m sure you have much to talk about. If you need me, you know my office is always open for questions or concerns. Thank you for your time.”

---

Jan quietly listened to the tasks Graham listed... Standard physical tests, firearm tests... climbing into an NC. If it weren't unproffesional Jan would kiss this man. He had always been quite annoyed at the on-duty laxness there was in New Anchorage. He could pretty much walk all over lunch regulations up until now and get a sandwich whenever he wanted. He had secretly enjoyed someone finally saying something about it. He may not have liked the pencil pusher that reported him to Graham, but he quite liked the authority that pencil pusher represented.

So Graham wanted him to climb into an NC unassisted? Please, Jan had done that shit already. It was somewhat of a necesarry skill for a mercenary like him. He saw Stein stepping forward before he could though, and was slightly taken aback by how she took the challange... Stein was capable of emotions other than mild disinterest?

The blonde-haired girl finished, and Jan wanted to step up again, but again he was interrupted, this time by an old woman no less. He was skeptical of her capability for just a moment, but was then reminded experience was just as much of an asset as raw power and agility.

He heard a familiarly whiny voice lament its apparant inadequacy. "Oh shut your face Moore, that defeatist line of thinking is gonna get you nowhere... In fact, I feel like us men are a bit underrepresented in this whole matter" Jan walked over, raising his hand as if to signal some invisible referee to start their stopwatch. He would be the first to admit seeing the two ladies go before him had given him a bit of an edge on this particular NC, but then again, he knew his own NC like the back of his hand, so that point was rather moot.

He swung his arm downwards to signal he was starting. He made good progress... with less agility than Stein, but with more force behind his movements. he simply retraced her moves from memory. He heard the ladies engaging in some sort of philosophical debate, but ignored it in favor of focusing on his climbing. His objective right now was to one-up those very ladies... ironically proving the point Agatha was arguing.

By the time he arrived at the top, Percy had interjected. Jan's mind immediately forgot what his time might have been... Lost to the shortest moment of not paying attention. He listened to the discussion going on beneath him. He remained silent as to not interrupt the beautiful verbal beatdown Percy was being subjected to. Finally, just as the conversation ended, He shouted downward. "I second the ladies! Go get a fucking spine man!"

---

When the door finally shut, Ana let herself scream. It wasn't a fearful one. She sounded more like an angry cat than afraid. "WHO DOES HE THINK HE IS?" she didn't care who heard her in that moment. "IS HE STUPID? I TOLD HIM LIKE.. How many times?" Ana stopped screaming to think about it for a second, then went right back to it, "LIKE SIX TIMES?"Ana leapt off the bed to get the pillow laying on the bench and hurled it back to the head of the bed, sitting where Graham was with a huff. "He's a DICK, like you SAID. DICK. DICK DICK DICK" Ana wanted to kick something, or punch something, but she didn't. She just let out another wordless scream and crossed her arms, huffing. Before Vera could begin to say something in that beat, she inhaled deeply, then shouted again,"AND HIS NAME IS STUPID TOO. WHAT PARENT NAMES THEIR KID AFTER A CRACKER? LIKE AT LEAST EVERYONE ELSE HAS A NAME THAT SOUNDS LIKE A NAME!"

Vera was quiet throughout Ana's rant, watching the door after Graham had gone. She was more surprised than relieved with how...smoothly everything had gone. The man was calm from start to finish, but she figured that was to be expected. It was his house, his rules, he didn't need to scream and shout, he didn't need to be violent or angry, he'd get what he wanted anyway.

By the time Vera was done introspecting, Ana's hair was a mess and she was panting. She looked at Vera when she was done, looking like she might've gotten it all out. Maybe

"We gotta go see the doctor," Vera said.

"SCREW THE DOCTORS!" Ana shrieked. Apparently she didn't get it all out.

Vera took up Ana's hands, trying to calm the younger girl down. Ana had went to yank her hands away, but then Vera spoke,"We gotta see'er soon, and we've gotta do it when Percy and Lizzy can't stop us."

"Or I just won't do it!" Ana snapped, "I don't WANT to do some stupid test where they're gonna shove me in a stupid box and I pilot some stupid robot! I'm not gonna do it! It's not happening! Dad doesn't want me to, and I don't want to!"

"There won't...this is just the test to see if they can...if you can even go in the box. They can't make you do anything else, but if we fight this, what if your dad does something? What if he gets in more trouble?"

The redhead girl stopped, her thoughts still in a tornado of anger, but she still stopped.

Vera was quick to sieze the silent opportunity. "It'll be easy, like Graham said. It's just a test, no pain, no nothing, and then you'll never have to do it again. But Percy, Lizzy, they're old, they're dumb, they might do something stupid and get in trouble. We gotta make sure that doesn't happen, sometimes we have to make sure they're okay."

"Dad said that it wasn't my job to make sure he was alright," Ana replied, her voice considerably calmer now. She had tried to help Percy feel better when she was younger, trying to convince him to tell her what was wrong, but he gave her a little speech about how it's the adults' job to protect the kids, not the other way around. She still worried when she noticed her father come in looking frazzled, but she didn't interfere. It was adult stuff that she didn't need to worry about.

"Sometimes..." Vera paused, and for the longest moment of her life debated finishing her sentence. "Sometimes people love each other enough to lie to them...to...keep them safe. It isn't your job to make sure he's alright, but sometimes we have to do it anyway, because we love them too."

Ana didn't respond right away. She wasn't sure how to process the information Vera had given her - either cause it was just a little over her eight-year-old head, or maybe it was that she was just drained from having so many emotions in one day, or maybe it was something else entirely. She just nodded to show she heard, then layed down on the bed, holding the pillow she had launched at Graham. "Adults are weird."

Vera threw herself down onto it as well, letting out a long, exhausted breath. "Yeah, and sometimes they're real dicks."

"I hope we don't end up like that."

Ahh the physical, the necessary evil of piloting a huge war machine. You actually had to be in half decent shape. Which really ran opposite to Penny's love of american cereal and chocolate. But she would get through it, part of her private training was staying in an acceptable level of fitness for combat. Luckily as a sniper she wouldn't be exerting herself as much as say a Melee unit like Jan Van Gent. She wondered if that's why Agatha Smith was able to stay active even at her age because her role on the battlefield was a more passive one.

She returned to her barracks which was a small room at the base and began to change into her shorts and vest which doubled as workout gear and her pajamas. She started her crunches and pushup circuit and within 20 mins she realized that she was probably a little more out of shape than she would have liked to admit but she kept at it. She hadnt gotten particularly friendly with any of the other pilots so her workout regime would not be distracted by any social life, not yet anyway.

She picked up her pocket computer after collapsing after her 55th pushup and began scrolling through the dossiers again out of boredom, needless to say it wasn't very long before she found herself switching between Tahlia and Stein's image galleries, old habits die hard. Penny fell asleep a few minutes afterwards, she wouldn't be asleep for long but she would have some very good dreams.

---

"—and when Philip here saw Miss Jackspar for the first time, he called her a damn abominable instead of an albino!" ¹ Thomas explained as he threw the cards in his hands at the other mechanic's face, following with him pushing the pile of 'chips' over towards Phillip.

Sitting with them was Tahlia, laughing in stitches with her left elbow resting on the table as her hand covering her eyes. With the three glasses between them filled with good old American whisky and an empty bottle lying on the ground, it was little wonder the most dumbest of conversations was causing a comedy show between the newly formed team. The stories that she was listening to were too much for her to keep a straight face.

"Pass tha cards 'ere... Mister Abominable," she happily slurred, plucking a cigarette out of her pack, which at this point in time was sitting on the table next to her glass, and slipping the white cylinder between her lips. She placing her hand on the scattered deck, drawing them all towards her side of the table before carefully stacking the cards together and beginning a series of shuffles. Every few moves had to be stopped so that Tahlia could flip a card around in order to face the correct direction, a decision that would have been made sooner if she wasn't under the influence.

"'ey, I didn't know the difference back then. I hadn't seen either so they were both mythical beast to me!" Philip explained, as he leaned over while laughing, pulling the smoke out of Tahlia's mouth and spinning it around so that she had the tobacco end pointing out. She drunkenly smiled at the gesture before Philip continued with his efforts to help her in lighting the tip.

Thomas, on the other side of the table, threw his hands up in the air, "Mythical beast? MYTHICAL BEAST?!? You see what I gotta put up with on a daily basis? And they still won't give me a new partner!" to which Philip shrugged, knowing that his foolish antics were getting on his friend's nerves.

"So Miss Styles —" Philip enquired, "— tell us the story about how you came to own this unique NC of yours," pulling the handbrake up on the current topic and changing it to one about the pilot instead.

"That's not up for discussion..." she replied with a cold expression, letting the smile that was previously fill her face disappear into a less than pleasant expression.

"C'mon, I bet it was an awesome story. I bet you were taking on Magen or Vol—"

Before Philip could finish his sentence Tahlia had already placed the deck cards back down on the table and pushed back the crate she was sitting on so that she could stand up from her comfortable seating position at the table. She pulled the lit cigarette out from her mouth and dropped it in her glass, not caring that there was still drink left in it.

"That's enough Poker for today," Tahlia spoke, picking up her bag and throwing it over her shoulder as she began to stagger away from the poker game. The two mechanics were not entirely sure what line they had crossed in order to suddenly get on her bad side and she could hear the murmur between them. A sign that they were more than likely trying to analyse the situation so that they could get a better understanding to what happened. That was no concern for the girl at current, she just wanted to find the barracks and her room.


Tahlia's hand pressed up against the steel surface with her other hand fumbling with the datatool in order to get the door open. A gentle click was heard and the latch released as the weight of her body began to force the door open. With a slight miss-step, she wandered her way through the entrance into the dormitory before her, hearing the door automatically slam shut. It was a reasonable size room, well lit, bathroom facilities on the right hand side, bed in the far left corner, and a desk to her left. Tahlia walked forward towards the bed and dropped her bag on the end before sitting on the edge next to the bedside table that held a rather nice, metal framed lamp. She felt her weight sink into the mattress for a moment, giving her a gentle sense of comfort as she sat there in silence for a minute or two.

"So Miss Styles. Tell us the story about how you came to own this unique NC of yours."

Tahlia grabbed the lamp with her right hand, ripping it out from the electrical socket before standing up and issuing a baseball throw to the other side of the room. She expelled a loud scream of "FUCK!!!!" as the hard object to hit the glass mirror and shatter it into hundreds of tiny fragments. Each piece hit the floor one by one, giving a soothing sound similar to that of a dancing wind chime before a heavy 'Thunk!' ended the musical parade. Tahlia dropped to the ground, landing her knees on the less than comforting floor and burying her head into her hands.

"It's not the question, it's only the alcohol," she repeatedly wailed into her palms, trying to convince herself that the emotional stress she was currently experiencing had nothing to do with her and how she obtained her NC.

---

^{1: Reference from Old RP.}

A grey eye looked down the iron sights wide with concentration, 400 yards away the corners of a paper target fluttered in the breeze, tacked to a sheet of steel. Jingo held his breath and so did the small congregation of people around him; switching the rifle from safety to live he squeezed the trigger and fired. A short burst of lead, three or four bullets, whizzed down the range accompanied by the flashes of the rifle's muzzle - on the other side the resounding of metal striking metal, Jingo let himself breath and the people cheered, a grin flashed across his face.

"Now dunt waste yer brets just ye', still go' a whole mag let'."

Gwenda leaned down by his head and squinted, trying to get a look at the distant target.

"'Ow does i' look?." he asked, turing his head to look at the very close Gwenda. She snorted and rose back from her stoop.

"I couldn't tell you if I wanted too," Gwenda mumbled, she fumbled for her binoculars and looked down range. She nodded slowly, whistling in admiration, "Keep shooting." Jingo wasn't sure whether she was messing with him or was being sincere, he spared a glance at Gwenda and set his jaw. He peered back down the sight, opening his eye as wide as possible and pulled on the trigger. Jingo struggled against the recoil, if he still had two hands it would be much easier to control the ravenous snaps of the rifle but with just a hook, subduing the rattle was much more difficult.

The gun clicked on empty, the hammer striking an empty chamber. Jingo let go of a breath he didn't know he was holding, and was at the same time astonished at how long he held it for. Looking up from his prone position he met Gwenda's gaze, she looked back at him for a moment before jerking her head to the distant target. John nodded, getting up from the shooter's position and patting himself down before climbing over the barricade and into the snowy outside. He slung the rifle over his shoulder and trudged through the snow beside Gwenda, both silently huffing and panting as they approached the 400 yard mark. At this point Jingo was freezing, he had neglected to bring a jacket and simply walked out in his thermals; in his NC that would have been no issue but outside with the random gusts of bitter cold, he was regretting it.

The pair stood side by side infant of the steel plate, Gwenda shocked and Jingo pleasantly surprised.

"Blimey."

"Blimey indeed.." The center of the target was practically gone, a tattered, shredded circle where paper once was but was now completely gone. The metal plate Behind the hole was a mess of of dimples and punctures, accumulating at a jagged hole in the middle. Gwenda turned her head to look at Jingo, "Are you sure that rifle of yours is an assault rifle? Jingo merely shrugged and she nodded before mumbling, "Don't want to be on the other side of you, that's for sure."

---

It had felt like an hour in the virtual simulation room for Eli. As requested Lofgren had set parameters that would not allocate for failure, though Eli had never before experienced pain on such an intense level in her life outside of maybe the installment of her neural implant into her spine some time ago. But still, it was a surprise; and the room was still catching her off guard despite herself having a decent amount of experience with the simulation pods she had become so used to. Here, in VR, everything was more vivid… more intense to the point where it felt like even the mildest injury would feel like a severe one. Doctor Lofgren had, of course, warned her about this fact when she inquired about her experience with VR but Eli didn’t care even with the neural pain as overpowering as it was.

And given the armed guards that Lofgren had emulated, Eli had more experience getting shot than she had ever been before. Even she could tell that the experience between the pods and VR were far apart— the VR room was in a completely different league.

And it all looked so... real.

Scrambling behind cover, Eli took what moments of peace it offered to try and steady herself. It was not an easy task. She felt like holes had been torn through her, which might not have been far from the truth, but all the same, it made keeping a steady grasp on her blade and remaining focused difficult.

It doesn't hurt.

She repeated it over and over again until the voice stopped sounding like her own. It doesn't hurt, Elizabeth, you're not in pain, you're fine. Move. Now.

Clutching the kukri close to her chest, she inched her head around the farside of her cover, trying to get a peek at what might be approaching.

Two blasts from her programmed enemy’s own weapons nearly hit her as she did so.

The enemies were soldiers, designed as some sort of default setting to prepare staff for what to do in case of an enemy siege of New Anchorage’s facilities. There was an unease in Eli and whilst Lofgren had programmed the situation as per Eli’s request that there would be no failure option— this meant that they would shoot her until she fell into unconsciousness or worse. But Eli didn’t exactly give the blue-haired woman time to explain the ramifications of “neural death” before running headfirst into VR.

The situation was difficult; her back was pressed against a flipped table in the mess hall and they were closing in from two different points. She knew charging wouldn't do her any good, even if she got to one, the other would likely blow her to pieces, so instead she reached for the firearm strapped to her waist. What was its name again? A Volkov model, she'd seen it before with Stein, though at the moment she supposed the details were irrelevant. Clamping her mouth shut, she held her breath, listening for, what she tried to parse out as, the closest approaching soldier. Thanks to a ringing in her ears, she couldn't rely much on the accuracy, but with time running out there wasn't much of a choice. Eli scooted to the opposite end of the table, got herself low, then swung out and took aim as best she could for the nearing enemy before squeezing the trigger.

The soldier took several shots from her handgun before dropping— but there was still three others left. Eli had dropped fourteen of them in the several hours of time she had been stuck in VR, and she was finally about to finish. These were the last of them; she was sure of it. The sound of assault rifle fire cut through the air but not before Eli heard a 'clank' against the wall behind her.

Her enemies were programmed with energy weapons. Energy weapons didn’t make a ‘clank’ against metal.

Grenade.

Move. I'm going to die. Stop. Move. I'm going to die.

Eli hurled herself over the table, heedless to the three remaining soldiers. She bolted for another in the hopes of finding more cover, but she had to get away from the grenade, she had to move, she had to move now or she was going to die.

With little grace, she fell behind another long table, and a cold shock ripped through her veins. She could feel the pain in her bones, like the marrow was fire.

It doesn't hurt it doesn't hurt it doesn't hurt get up Elizabeth get up now.

She pressed herself against the table, wincing as cold sweat dripped from her brow into the wound on her lip, where she'd bitten her mouth shut. Blood leaked down her chin, she ignored it, pushed stray hair from her eyes and breathed the shaking away. Three, only three. You aren't losing to this fucking doctor again she isn't killing you again. Not her, not the damn Goldenspur, not these stupid soldiers, not anyone.

A loud ‘bang’ exploded behind her— sending bits of metal and plasma sprawling a few meters from where the grenade formerly laid, the table she had threw herself over protecting her from the intensity of the blast. Sound became distorted as a loud ringing deafened Eli. Had it not been for her eyes she wouldn’t have seen one of the three remaining soldier’s peaking from another table, this one in front of her, with rifle in hand with finger on the trigger.

The position was poor to say the least, but she reacted quickly nonetheless, whipping the handgun up to spray a few shots at the soldier before her. She didn't expect them to hit, they weren't meant to, she just needed surpression enough to skirt around his table and drive the kukri home before the other two caught on. As soon as she pulled the trigger she was moving, crouched low but fast, blade brandished and ready to swing 'round the table, she'd aim for the arms first. As she dwindled her enemies down to two— she could hear the footsteps coming around. They were going to try to catch her on opposite ends.

You can't aim that fast. Eli was already dropping the pistol, kukri still clutched. You can't move that fast. She wasn't going to. She let the blade go, clanking at her feet, and scooped up the dead soldier's rifle. One to the right, one to the left. Pick one. She went left, aimed low, and opened fire, already moving to circle around the table before she could even be flanked. It would feel like the next few movements happened so quickly— the final soldier fell to the floor after a gunshot to the head, Eli dropping the assault rifle as he did so in a fit of exhaustion that was both physical, mental, and emotional.


The synchronization halted as everything that the simulation had created vanished into nothing— the walls of New Anchorage’s mess hall turning into a blankness of metal and electronics. The door she had entered when she began slid open as the lights inside the room cut. Eli could hear the typing of the people outside.

She was dead. You're not dead. She looked down at her hands, felt the tension there as though she was still clutching the kukri. When she spread her fingers, the relief was pain, they felt like stone.

It was over, was that it? Eli started out, stopped herself, got her breath on leash. You're not alone, shape up.

Eli stood up straight, pushed the pain to the furthest recess of her mind, felt herself go steady, and walked out.

"What happened?" she asked, relieved to hear her voice unshaken.

The voice of Lofgren responded from behind her desk, much like when Eli had opted for the simulation. “You succeeded. Took you awhile, but you succeeded; I’m surprised that you got through it all given all of the bullets you took. You are really good at being a sponge. Color me slightly impressed. Slightly.”

Eli was good at recieving compliments modestly, even when they were hidden or backhanded. Even still, though she wished she could have taken pride in Lofgren's 'praise', she didn't have the mental, or physical capacity to do much more than stand and listen.

Before Eli could reply Lofgren spoke again, “Maybe next time you will actually learn how to avoid bullets. I’ll add a grading system when you do. You should go to the Mess Hall and get some food in you. It is about time for your dinner call. 1800 hours, right?”

Whatever relief there was from completing the simulation, whatever conflict between happiness and disappointment raged inside her, all at once it was replaced by a terrible dread, twofold. Four hours. She hadn't been in her body for four hours, and now she had to report to the Mess Hall, again. It was almost enough to push her lips into a frown, almost enough to crack her. Almost.

"Keep the time on record, I'll be back tomorrow," she said, pulling the soft jacket on, wrapping the scarf round her face, and flipping the hood over her head.

“I would recommend bringing one of your fellow pilots.” Lofgren looked up from her desk before Eli left the room. “And Jackspar? The VR room isn’t just for training— it is good for leisure as well. Remember that slowing down does help, you cannot give your best if you do not rest from your duties.”

You don't get to stop.

"Noted, ma'am," Eli said, and left for the Mess Hall.

---

---

---

---

For the last few hours, Stein had done her best to do something productive instead of commit to a longer involvement with Percy Moore considering she was more than familiar with how it was obviously going to waste not only her time but also Agatha’s— the discussion following a specific briefing with their previous commander still oddly fresh in her mind. However, there was nothing she could really do to change how Percy Moore thought or acted; at least, unless something changed to the point where Stein felt she had to. The only thing Stein considered that she “had” to do at this point in time was to give Agatha an idea of what New Anchorage’s facilities were like and show her what she had requested: the ropes.

Admittedly to Stein, the ropes consisted simply of knowing where the pilot barracks, main NC hangars, shooting range, obstacle course, simulation hub, fitness center, and training rooms were and little much else. She had pointed to Agatha’s datatool if she got lost and needed to know where certain rooms were had she lacked the cognitive memory functions to sufficiently remember them. Though unlike other pilot’s Stein did not suggest it in a condescending fashion as a sort of jab at her fellow pilot, but rather a sort of obtuse matter-of-fact statement that only someone like Stein could essentially get away with saying.

In addition to making Agatha aware of the facilities, their locations, and their functions the blonde-haired pilot returned to a statement she mentioned when she walked away from the conversation with Percy— Of course. I'm due for another run, anyway.

Whether Agatha continued to follow her had been irrelevant as far as Stein believed due to the fact that it wouldn’t affect her intended activities that she had planned to space out in-between 1300 and 1800 hours.

There would be little time for idle chat.

Pressuring herself into the same regimen of timed obstacle course runs that she had done prior to lunch, Stein would continuously make sure that she would make sure she would make good use of the last day free from New Anchorage’s loose operation though she was not entirely convinced that Graham would make them run through corporate schedules after the sun set either. It was a doubt, but Stein felt it was more of a fear factor to pressure pilots into stop slacking around base— though there was also the idea that her doubt could’ve been quite incorrect… but there was no way to know in advance.

As time drew closer, Stein did as she did earlier— a quick shower before heading off to the Mess Hall before contemplation of what activities she should do afterward up until she set herself for a four-to-six our sequence of much needed bed rest. With so many pilots, concerns, and situations she considered going to the hangar to check on her NC, returning to the NC that Graham had designated for them to climb, or even going to the simulation hub for a simulated encounter to maintain that her skills were still sharp. There was a multitude of things that were optionable. Perhaps people like Percy saw it as robotic or soulless but Stein rejected the idea with the belief of efficiency being better than complacency.

It was how she was raised.



The blonde-haired girl had been the first pilot to make it to the Mess, though considering everybody’s state of mind it wasn’t so odd in retrospect. Stein didn’t quite understand how people could get so thrown off-kilter by simple requests from their commander, but therein was an issue that even she was slightly aware of— how she grew up and how she lived was different than even the person closest like her at New Anchorage in Elizabeth Jackspar. The lives of the majority of pilots she called and would call comrades were alien to her, almost like they were from Mars. Part of her wanted to relate to them or at least be able to understand them like she did her former comrades. She struggled thinking that she would connect to the people of New Anchorage quite like she did back in Seattle.

Stein sighed heavily as she sat down at the table with her food tray in hand.

Why is the world so different beyond what I know?

It was then that a voice from behind broke her away from her thoughts, her nerves tightening as she heard it.

“Anastasia?”

Her blue eyes turned to face the person who had spoken to her— someone she was… familiar with. Someone she thought had disappeared from her life following his success. Stein commented blankly as she looked at the suit-bearing man who held his own tray in hand.

“Father.”

Ingram Kalfox.

Stein would’ve been lying to herself had she believed herself to not be surprised by this… development. The last time she had seen her father for an increment of time longer than an hour was when she was twelve and was well into her promising military career and yet here we was in New Anchorage. Did whatever that caused her early retirement from the Volkov Corporation cause a similar fate for her father? And if so, why did he decide to come to New Anchorage instead of jump ship to another major corporation? What was his intent here?

Why was he here?

“It’s been a few years… hasn’t it Anastasia?”

She felt the pressure around her get heavier.

“Stein. Call me Stein.”

Why was he here?

---

Agatha had been amazed by the sheer determination that Stein had demonstrated. She was fairly certain that the Ace hadn't even noticed her presence as they both ran the obstacle course. Considering there was a substantial margin in their performance- 4:23 being her best time on the unfamiliar course- and in endurance, as Agatha was forced to concede before the superior endurance of her running mate about twennty minutes before she had. Not being one to waste time she had made use of her cooling off period to read up on the dossiers of her fellow pilots and a bit on the support staff.

She lightly snickered to herself as she perused through her datatool. I wonder what the others will think of my dossier.



Having killed several hours being given a guided tour of the facilities and watching Stein run circles around her, it was time for the new pilots first meal at New Anchorage. Luckily she had hit up the dining car on the train for lunch, since they hadn't had a chance to actually utilize the mess when they first arrived.

Standing with tray in hand, having taken whatever was on offer for dinner, she moved to sit across the only other person there at the time, Ms. Kalfox. The younger woman had been silent for a while now, almost completely since they had finished the tour barring a sparse muttering under her breath, but Agatha didn't take offense from it. Her initial assumption of Stein seemed to have been validated by her dossier and their interactions with Moore, her actions and words more motivated by her own rationality rather than callousness.

The silence wasn't yet at the stage of being called companionable, but she was willing to accept that Stein wouldn't be breaking it without good cause. Agatha would have left it as well, but the silence had seemed to have been shattered by another who brought with him a surprising revelation about Stein's parentage.

"Huh, so you are Stein's father." Agatha asked the empty air. She hadn't put any thought towards the progenitor of New Anchorage's Ace, there just wasn't the time or immediate reasons to do as such. There was a vague familial resemblence, though her own daughters looked very little like their father so physical traits weren't the ultimate indicator of parentage. However, given the person that Stein has become she did question his parenting ability.

After her encounter with Percy Moore, Agatha wasn't going to vocalize those concerns. In regards to Stein a dossier only covered so much, and Agatha hadn't a name to match to the face of Stein's father so she didn't know anything on him. There was a sense of validation in berating Percy for his cowardise, especially since they will going into combat together, but this man wasn't dressed or carrying himself like a pilot. The standards were different, and unlike Ana, Stein was already a grown woman and accomplished pilot so nothing would come of antagonizing him based off first impressions.

Another pilot, one of the original New Anchorage pilots, sat down with them and bluntly asked the question on both their minds.

"Well, this man here seems to be Stein's father."

“Seems is oddly speculative isn’t it? I can assure you I most certainly am responsible for Stein’s existence in our world.”

"Ah, well then I suppose we owe you our thanks for your contribution." Agatha offered amicably. His tone was surprisingly welcoming, so she endeavored to match it. "So do you mind if I ask what you do here in New Anchorage, Mr. Kalfox? I don't take you for a pilot, so maybe vice-commander?"

“I have taken the offered position in charge of financial administration. Basically I deal with numbers and making sure that New Anchorage does not go broke. There was some other capacities I was requested to contribute towards but I’m afraid that information is confidential.”

"Of course. Operational security is important, after all." Agatha replied with a bemused smile. He seemed like an interesting man who was in a position of signifigant power in New Anchorage, though she was still curious how someone who was so congenial could produce such a stringent child. Then again, kids don't have to emulate their parents. Individual perogative is a thing, or someone else had a greater influence on her development.

"Well if you are half as capable as your daughter, New Anchorage can rest assured it's finances are in good hands. Though please, don't let us interrupt your time with your daughter anymore."

“Oh, no. That is the pilots table.” He chuckled as he waved his hand, “Really, I have taken enough of your time. Enjoy your food, I have to talk with those I will be working closely with. I will talk to you later, Stein. Cheers.”

What a peculiar man. Agatha thought before returning to spooning up what she thought was a serving of mashed potatoes. She wondered what Stein thought of the man, but that was for another time. Answers came with time, and they still had a month till Graham was going to incite his final test which decided who was piloting and who wasn't. Agatha knew she was ready.