===================

Longshot stood, ready as ever, in the hangar alongside the other units. It was being prepared for battle by technicians who pored over every detail of the machine, a process its pilot had no place in. Technicians checked the power output from its generators, ensured ammo feeding was seamless, that storage was properly insulated and wasn't leaking, that all the control systems responded properly and a thousand other factors. The camouflaged unit was receiving special attention from the technicians due to the rank and position of its pilot, Captain Kalstov, to ensure it responded to her standards. The Ordo Sanctus was a guerrilla force that couldn't stay in one place long, that meant recruitment wasn't often an easy thing, which meant veterans like Captain Kalstov were invaluable to the cause.

Speaking of Captain Kalstov, Aura could be found outside doing her own preparations. She was found stretching out, making sure her rifle magazines were each properly loaded and packed, and making sure her pistol and magazines were all properly stowed on the pistol belt that formed part of her flight suit. With the practiced ease of one who lived and died by it, Aura carefully inspected both weapons, occasionally mumbling to herself and adjusting the rifle's sight. After a few minutes of inspection, she was satisfied with her weapons and walked into the hangar briefly to surrender her rifle and its ammunition to one of the technicians. Wearing it would get in the way when she was piloting the suit, so it was stowed in a rack within the cockpit, ammo stored beside it, by the techs. This left Aura to prepare herself before the briefing for their upcoming mission, as every other pilot in the squadron should be doing.

Finding a secluded spot, Aura set to stretching each muscle in her body to aid her twitch responses. She stretched the muscles in her neck, shoulder, arms, hands and fingers, chest, stomach, legs, each muscle in her body was stretched to the best of her ability. Doing this took the better part of half an hour but it was worth ever second spent. She had to be sharp so she could stay alive out on the field, and she never skipped a stretch when that extra half a second of response time could be all that saved her life or one of the other pilots' lives. With that half hour gone, however, Aura had precious little time before the briefing with nothing to really spend it on.

Re-entering the hangar, Aura approached the lead tech to get a feel for the Longshot's status. Before she could even talk, he began rattling off green readings on most everything. The Ordo took good care of its Valkinai suits, what with them being so crucial to the war effort, so she expected nothing less. She managed to kill another five minutes this way before finally deciding to simply turn up to the briefing early. Making her way to the command center at a leisurely pace still had Aura present fifteen minutes early. "Oh well. You're always early for everything in the infantry." Aura mused to herself as she presented herself to the Commander, saluting and reporting "Captain Aura Kalstov, reporting as ordered ma'am!"

Kevin:
- UNF
- Terra

Kevin was enjoying the ride on Terra. The giant ship made for a nice ride and minimal turbulence due to it's massive size and velocity. He would have to make it a point to find the mechanics and get his hands on the schematics and see how he could integrate it into Tinkered Toy. Although the occasional bumps made it hard to work on Tinkered Toy as Kevin went about his third systems check and found like his last check that all systems were fully operational and his valkanai was in the best condition for what it was. With the maintenance done, he hopped down from the machine and went about finding the various rooms of the ship.

In his time of touring, he spotted a few key locations like the bridge, cafeteria, his room, briefing room, a few mechanic ports to service the ship faster, and the engine room. Along the way he would ask people where the engineers were and upon meeting any would pick their brains for some time with questions about valkanai efficiency, possible enhancements, and also the Terra's schematics and operations. To him it was important to know how the ship worked in case he would be needed to aid with large scale repairs using Tinkered Toy.

Upon reaching the engine room, he milled over the area. Firstly he attempted to get into the room so he could get closer to the engine and take notes about how it operated and how to plausibly apply it into a more compact version in order for him to make more engine types for valkanais. While jotting down ideas, he wound up back into the hangar and looked at all the valks stationed in the Terra.

While looking at each of them Kevin feverishly wrote down ideas for new technologies he could create to add onto the machines. Some seemed more fit for close range combat while others were for long range battles. The close ranged valks would be perfect for an extra propulsion system in order to let the machines close large gaps rapidly and if used correctly could greatly enhance the speed and power of the valks attacks. On the other side he could see instead of propulsion, a more shock absorbent machine with larger shock support to reduce impact from larger rounds. Would need to add a flame resistant coating along with better temperature control since the large suits would be susceptible to overheating and flames. He then realized that a third option was available with stealthier recon valks that would have to have special materials on the outside to mask its signal. With that comes a problem with having to find a way to either get around the coating in order to send and receive signals or just have to leave it to the pilot to make it to a safe spot in order to relay information.

There were a lot of options open for the close combat but Kevin decided to jot down a few options for longer range valks. Namely for snipers it is important to make an outer coating of non-reflective material with possible camouflaging capabilities in order to set up a sniping position. Then the same problem arises with the stealth suits where a means of being hidden from the enemy but to stay in contact with allies at the same time is crucial. Something to mill over later with more materials. Moving on was the heavier artillery which would need massive shocks in order to launch heavier rounds. That and a means of carrying more ammo than normal as to raise their efficiency when on the battlefield and away from any ammo. Lastly for them would be to have an optimal means of launching the payload with minimal risk of a counter-attack by any snipers or close range combatants.

Kevin then thought about weapon designs for both sides and any kind of technologies that could turn the tide in a battle, such as ways to minimize damage done by dampeners and hazards such as an electro magnetic pulse. He feverishly jotted down ideas while pasing by each of the mechs and a rather large tank. Kevin made a note to pick the designer's brain and see if anything out of the ordinary was inside. Being from a junkyard a tank was not an unusual sight, but if it was still operational it must be different from the usual scrapped iron. With that in mind Kevin wandered back to Tinkered Toy and began jotting down more ideas for upgrades and new technologies, keeping in mind how to build Tinkered Toy as well rounded as possible as to be useful in as many situations as possible.

Gregory had been up for some time. It wasn't that he hadn't slept, he just didn't sleep much. He was already tired, but he managed to stay awake by staying busy. It wasn't hard to find something to do aboard the UNFAC Terra which Gregory, in his more numb state of mind, was thankful for. His current task was general maintenance of his tank, the Fortress of Arrogance. Gregory did everything in his power to keep the tank running at optimal condition. This was where having a cybernetic arm actually came in rather handy, as the extra strength allowed him to perform tasks that usually required several engineers by himself. The interior of the Fortress of Arrogance was really quite cramped and there was barely enough for one man to squeeze into. Thankfully, Gregory had grown rather used to this task and felt right at home enclosed in the cramped quarters of the tank.

A crew would have never fit into the machine, though this was an intentional design choice. Gregory had specifically requested that the free space inside the tank be kept to the barest minimum needed for maintenance so that extra armor could be added. The battlefield was changing once again, and Gregory had seen firsthand how this change could prove to be both a huge shift in military tactics and a huge disaster if even the tiniest of things was miscalculated or went wrong. Gregory once more found himself drifting back to the day where he hopped into the cockpit of the prototype Valkinai suit. Everything was said to be in perfect running condition, and all readings were green across the board.

It should have been a flawless performance. Gregory had spent the past week in a simulator running through the test that he was going to take the suit through. But as he began to boot up the actual suit, he knew that something was wrong. The moment he pressed the main ignition button, the suit briefly flickered to life and began to rise into combat position, but the moment the weapons came online the suits energy core sputtered and failed, causing the suit to go limp. Gregory tried to bail out of the suit, but the traditional ejection systems had been forgone because the armor was too thick to reliably jettison. He couldn't get the suit open from the inside, and was trapped. Engineers were rushing to pull the core before it was too late, but the system kept offering a handshake to start the core and initiate boot sequences. Inevitably, it was able to start the core back up again. Briefly. The core had breached it's safety shielding, causing an automatic shutdown. The core starting up again caused the temperature to sharply rise and the core detonated catastrophically.

Everything past that went blank, and Gregory snapped back to reality. He found himself staring at his cybernetic hand. The metal unfeeling, but durable and strong. Just like the Fortress of Arrogance. Muttering to himself to let go of the past, Gregory returned to work on the Fortress of Arrogance. All of the shells passed his safety inspection, and the automated systems were in perfect condition. Gregory pinged Ba'al for a status report and all the readings were green across the board. Worming his way out of the tank, Gregory closed the single maintenance hatch and stood behind the tank. He pinged Ba'al again and told the AI to run a program known to the two of them as the "Spinup program."

Receiving a compliance ping from Ba'al, Gregory watched as the engine of the tank started, and heard several clicks and thumps as the various machine guns, autocannons, and the hull mounted siege cannon and the main gun were loaded. The tank scooted forward slightly, then back, and the various guns swiveled along their various mounts. The turret of the tank swung a complete three hundred and sixty degrees and returned to it's resting position. Nodding his approval, Gregory gave the shutdown order and Ba'al shut the tank off after unloading all of the various weapons that had been previously loaded as part of the spinup test. Once everything was back to how it had been a few moments ago, Gregory nodded and sent Ba'al into idle. Placing his tools back onto a nearby workbench, Gregory placed his mechanical arm into the socket of his mechanical claw, and winced slightly at the jolt that signaled it's attachment. Standing upright, Gregory hefted the weapon and opened and closed the claws. Nodding his approval, Gregory walked out to the front of the tank, possibly into the sight of Kevin, and the turned to walk to the mess hall aboard the ship. He would speak if spoken to, but didn't really care to initiate chatter.

Should Gregory be uninterrupted, he would reach the mess hall shortly after leaving the hanger due to walking at a brisk pace. Once there, he would place an order for a steak, salad, and extremely sweet tea. This would seem odd to most people, but in order to keep his arm running well Gregory needed to maintain a good muscle tone, which the steak helped with, and he also had to keep a good flow of antioxidants and sugar to both power the machinery and keep his blood clean, which the salad and tea provided. After being given his food, Gregory would thank the staff there, and promptly sit alone to eat. He balanced his claw on it's fingertips while he ate, in order to keep it out of the way.

The pre-dawn light filtered in through the windows of Michi's small assigned room aboard the Terra. In the dimness and vague shadows, only one thing moved with purpose – Michi herself, moving fluidly through the motions of her morning limbering-up exercises. The deep thrum of the engines came up through the deckplates and hummed in her bones, a constant reminder of where she was and what they were doing.

That thought caused a small frown to crease her forehead and her almost dancelike routine to stumble, just for a moment – because she didn't know what they were doing, not really. Only that Captain Dawn had received orders to make best speed for Regalis, where further orders pertaining to – rumour had it – the deployment of Michi and the others in her unit would be promulgated from the UNF General Staff. None of which told her what they would be doing or how they would be used – would they be window-dressing for the latest round of speeches and posturing from Parliament, the polished future face of warfare – sorry, defence – or would it be a humanitarian crisis, their vast suits put to use relieving the beleagured populace from some disaster or other?

Or maybe, just maybe, there was the chance of an actual engagement. Some well-entrenched terrorists, perhaps, too tenacious and too well-fortified to be broken easily or quickly by conventional forces.

A nasty little smile cut across Michi's face at the thought – the Kaiserin's guns could pound even the mightiest of fortresses into rubble in short order, and from what she'd seen of the others' Valkinai, they were just as deadly too.

The blonde lieutenant finished her stretches and dressed quickly, moving with the studied, fluid grace of most of Priscus' nobility. The skill born on the social battlefield of Priscus' balls and parties had been honed during military training for entirely different purposes, and now Michi moved with an elegant economy of motion, buttoning the black-and-gold uniform at her throat with one hand even as she moved from the cool dimness of her room and out into the brightly-lit corridor, heading unerringly for the mess hall.

Her Valkinai needed final checks, of course – the engineers had been at work on her all through the graveyard shift, checking the thousands upon thousands of systems which kept the vast construct moving and fighting, but as the one who would actually be piloting the thing, she wanted her own eyes to have a last look.

Before that, though, she needed to tend to herself. Food, drink, the fuel of the body – as essential as the liquefied fusion premix for the reactor which burned brightly at the heart of the Kaiserin. Happily, the Terra's commissary never slept, and hot food aplenty was always available. Michi's hand hovered over her earbuds as she left, undecided for a split-second. On the one hand, the music would chase away any lingering clouds of sleep, but on the other there was the possibility that she might miss the greeting of a superior officer, even at such an uncongenial hour.

That would never do – she pocketed the tiny transmitters instead, moving briskly through the near-deserted corridors of the vast ship and into the mess hall itself, a long, low-ceilinged room filled with the smell of food and acres of tables and chairs, the few people about and eating dwarfed into comedic irrelevance.

A faint smile touched Michi's lips even as she collected a tray and placed her order – grapefruit and lime juice, a piping hot cup of black tea, and a fistful of high-energy chocolate bars. For later.

No sense in loading down on heavy food; she always got nervous before a deployment, or potential deployment, and the butterflies in her stomach never reacted well to a hearty breakfast so beloved of so many. No, give her grapefruit and lime instead, light food that didn't sit in the stomach like a leaden bowling ball.

She murmured her thanks to the catering staff and turned to survey the hall, Gregory's imposing form catching her eye as she did so. A taciturn man, by all accounts, mangled in one of the early experiments with the Valkinai suits, if she recalled correctly. Also a superior officer in the UNF, a captain - which perhaps explained some of the offputting iconography he wore. Winged skulls? That was decidedly not part of standard dress – but then again, the UNF was unofficially known to tolerate harmless peccadilloes, always providing the soldier in question was sufficiently useful.

“Captain Fietmaal,” she murmured as she drew close, her voice clear and precise. “Are you well?” she asked, to be polite, even as she set down her tray and picked up a spoon, delicately and with impeccable manners carving a crescent of flesh out of her fruit.

Should Gregory have reached the mess hall uninterrupted, he would likely still be alone at the table. Even if he was interrupted and was presented with conversation Gregory would still have likely reached the mess hall by the time that Michi had spoken to him. Gregory looked up from his food briefly to see who was speaking to him. The light from the ceiling of the mess hall reflecting slightly off of the red lens that made up part of the cybernetic eye that took up the left side of his face. It was usually described as unnerving to look into this eye, though Gregory never had a problem with looking at himself in the mirror. Perhaps others were not so used to visible cybernetics anymore? Regardless, Gregory looked up to Michi only briefly before nodding slightly and replying to Michi's question. "I am well, Lieutenant Maganza. I trust you are the same?"

Gregory was part of the way through his meal by this point. He had chosen to eat through the steak first, since it was best eaten warm and the salad was usually unhurt by rising a degree or two in temperature. The large mug of tea that Gregory had ordered had roughly a fourth of the contents remaining, the dark liquid inside hiding an extremely sweet taste to most palates. The remaining chunk of meat on the plate that currently held Gregory's attention was decently sized, roughly the size of a palm. Though it obviously alluded to a much larger chunk of meat having previously been present.

Gregory's cybernetic hand held a fork, while his left held the knife he was currently cutting the steak with. Placing a chunk of the steak into his mouth, Gregory swallowed it fairly swiftly. Most people would assume that one would choke at such an attempt, though Gregory had long since grown accustomed to the eating style. Gregory would likely repeat this feat two more times before Michi responded to his statement or presented another of her own. This would reduce the steak to virtually nothing, and Gregory would soon be finished with it. Likely also preceding Michi replying. Gregory picked up the fair sized bowl that the salad resided in, and placed it atop the plate that had just finished being occupied by the steak. At this time Gregory also decided to finish the last of his tea. Downing the last of the dark and sweet liquid with one swift gulp. Leaving his knife abandoned on the table, Gregory began to eat at his salad while he continued waiting for Michi to speak. All of this took merely a few seconds, which would likely either impress or disgust Michi. Perhaps both.

Gregory's swift eating wasn't totally a habit born out of being antisocial, but merely one of adaptation to his larger meals. The steak he had just eaten hardly filled his stomach, though this was quite the opposite when Gregory first received his cybernetic arm. The large meals made him feel sick, though a year later he was well used to them. It was remarkable that he survived the explosion with only an arm and an eye lost and maintaining some level of consciousness. Most of the time people would lose a good chunk of their bodies in a blast so close, but Gregory didn't. This fact was still capable of befuddling the surgeons over in Inops to this day.

"Whatsoever I feel has...come to life~" Neil murmured, hanging a dozen feet above the hard hanger floor within the sheets of metal that encased his Valkinai. He wiped the sweat off his palm on his red, dirt stained shirt as the music echoed within his mecha. Yanking the wrench with his off hand, he finally finished the last bit of maintenance on 189. WAIT! No. He forgot he had to weld a bit of his Valk's inner armor. He dropped the wrench and let it clatter to the ground through the opening in 189's thigh. 'Hey! Watch it!' he heard from below.

With a primate-like gait, he clambered over a few of the thicker wires and steel beams until he landed on one of the makeshift platforms he'd made years ago to help with maintenance without the need for a pulley or crane. His feet thudded against the iron landing, taking his welding torch and slipping on his goggles. Within moments, his face lit up from the intense light that flared before him as he melted and remolded the steel sheets together. His trademark grin grew on his face.

“Ma’am? We’ve finished the boosters for the Mark VI speed boost.” he heard faintly from below. "_Really?" he whispered to himself, turning the torch off and setting it down, before dropping off the platform nonchalantly, slipping and grabbing beams and pipes with practiced ease before hitting the ground with another thud, bending his knees to softened the impact. It looked as if his old Valk had literally dropped a turd in the form of this young man.

“Excellent work. Make sure to install this immediately. You never know when a battle will erupt-”
"Did I just hear the speed boost was finished!?" he interrupted in a raised, hysterical voice. It was him being doltish, or at least, the way he spoke was. Whether or not he was truly interested in the speed boost was to be seen. The female engineer turned around, a raised eyebrow was there to greet Neil strong enough to cut steel itself. He merely stared at her like a deer in the headlights, innocent and brow raised awaiting for answer.

She sniffed, and turned. "Why don't you find out?" He shook his head as she walked away. "I love watchin' 'em go." he muttered, though his eyes and attention had already fallen on Captain Aura Kalstov having just marched into the hanger. He gave her a firm salute. So firm it had to be facetious.

John had just finished his morning shower and was getting ready to leave his room to do his daily run around the ship. It ahs been a while since he joined the crew, but they still had not given him the data on any new unit he would need to test. Knowing the enemy liked surprise attacks, the only thing he could do was to be sure to keep up to date with the controls of any machine or vehicle in the ship, after all, piloting is all what he had left. "I really hope they are not trying anything weird again..." He sighed as he grabbed his clothes and put them on. "The last thing we need is something blowing up in the hangar..."

A couple minutes later, the young Evans was ready to start his daily routine. First jogging, then checking on the mechanics for any updates regarding his job or tweaks to the existing equipment. Just another normal day on the Terra, at least for now.

Yazmin's Valkinai, Ordine, sat idle in the hangar. While most were undergoing maintenance and upgrade, the humanoid suit was mostly left alone. It was newer than all the other Valkinai units under the command of Ordo and despite the few bullet damages it had taken several months ago, it was still in top shape. Besides, it's pilot needed to be there for it to undergo maintenance. The engineers have time and again tried but Ordine remained exclusively synced to it's clone pilot and without her, there was no way of getting it to go online.

The blonde 22-year-old was just finishing her daily jogging routine around the temporary base, her loose fitting shirt wet with sweat. It has been several months since she escaped from UNF laboratories and while Ordo had taken her in, she doubted that they trusted her. It didn't really matter. She wasn't here to make friends. She was here to take revenge for her family's unjust demise.

Able to feel a full range of emotions, Yazmin felt anger and sadness surge through her as faces of the people she now looked to as family flashed through her mind. Anton, Kate, Jason, Farrah, Pauline, Brent... they were the ones that were murdered in cold blood in the laboratory the day she escaped. Hailey, Ryan and Trixie... these three had been in the field when the order for all clones in the Samantha Project be terminated was issued. She wondered about the last three. She knew there was a big possibility that they were dead. Trevor and Candice were ruthless. They would make sure to finish them off. But despite it all, half of her was still hoping that the last three had managed to escape somehow.

She jogged back to the small room that had been assigned to her. She grabbed a towel and headed for the communal showers. It didn't take long for her to get herself cleaned, wrapped in her towel and then back into her room to suit up in her pilot uniform. Despite being in Ordo, no one seemed to complain that she still wrote the uniform issued to her by UNF. Maybe somebody did but there was really not enough funds to have another uniform made for her. Like almost everything else, it mattered little to her. Just as long as she can function at her full capacity, clothes didn't really matter. She can go into battle naked if she needed to.

As soon as she was suited up, she pulled her still wet hair into a loose ponytail and then headed towards the hangar. It was still early and she figured there would be enough time to ask the engineers to take a look at Ordine.

As soon as she stepped into the hangar, Ordine automatically went online. The male engineer was already by the humanoid suit, ready to do maintenance work as soon as Yazmin arrived. She gave him a small smile and he returned with with tentative smile, obviously still wary of her. "Thank you." she said in advance and then gave him a nod. As he turned towards the valkinai, Yaz turned away just in time to see Captain Aura Kalstov walk by. Trained well in military heirarchy and decorum, she raised her hand and saluted.

@Valor@The 4 Winds@Marquise@Hell Coos

=================================


@Kyrisse@POOHEAD189@Deadnaut

When Gregory heard the report that summoned Alpha Team to the bridge he didn't stiffen like the others. To him, this was just another day on the job. Michi had not yet responded to him, and since she seemed to be rather spaced out at the moment, Gregory doubted that she would. Wolfing down the salad in front of him with surprising speed Gregory returned the now empty plate, bowl, and cup along with the silverware to the counter of the mess hall and promptly returned to his mechanical claw. Once again placing his arm within the device he barely twitched as it latched onto his arm and was off the moment it was secure.

As Gregory walked towards the bridge, he flexed his mechanical claw and ensured that everything was working. Nodding to himself, Gregory allowed the device to fall by his side and walked at a brisk pace towards the bridge. Pressing his left palm against the touchpad next to the bridge door Gregory waited momentarily as a brief scan confirmed his identity. As the door to the bridge slid open Gregory walked in briskly. Standing at attention before Captain Dawn Gregory merely gave him a nod instead of the formal salute expected of him. Though the reason for this would be that the traditional salute required use of your right hand, and since most of Gregory's arm was currently taken up by a large mechanical claw, it could be excused that he did something a little bit out of the ordinary.

Gregory noted that several files lay next to Capt. Dawn and figured that they were briefing documents for later review, as was usually the case. Gregory also noted that he was likely the first person to arrive, and would thus be standing there for several minutes while the others arrived. Gregory didn't mind the wait, as it was at least better than simply doing nothing. Though he had to quell the mental note to scold his comrades for being tardy later. Not was not the time to go and start acting like the boss of everyone before the mission even began. Gregory could lead if need be, but when there was an established and working chain of command present it was usually considered better that it be followed rather than trying to act like the leader when you weren't.

The lights from the bridge reflected slightly in Gregory's cybernetic eye, though they hardly made a difference. It shimmered slightly as it compensated for the slightly darker bridge in order to equal out Gregory's night vision due to the rapid transition for the brightly lit mess hall to the slightly darker bridge. The fact that Gregory's eye could so easily compensate for the differences in lighting was a small wonder, and Gregory often questioned why so many people found the cybernetics unnerving.

He figured the main reason is that most people enjoyed remaining whole compared to sacrificing parts of themselves to attain superior ability. Gregory had grown to accept his augments, however, and often found himself wondering what he could do if he was completely augmented... That was a discussion for another time, as right now he had no reason to get himself augmented in such an extreme way. Though perhaps in the future his body might start to fail and he could make the excuse.

Regardless, Gregory stood waiting for the others to arrive and the briefing to start.

Kevin:
- UNF
- Terra

He had lost track of time. Kevin had promised himself but he couldn't prevent himself from doing another systems check on Tinkered Toy. It was more a check for himself in order to make sure that he was ready for any possible problems with TT that might come up in the middle of a mission. After a while aboard the scrappy Valkanai, Kevin found things the same as his last three system checks. All is well. With that in mind Kevin took a deep breath and realized that food did indeed exist, briskly walking to the cafeteria.

At the cafeteria Kevin ordered some chow main, a lot of Lamb medal-ions, some green tea, and brown rice with butter. This was a well rounded meal in his mind and he figured that tea would be better instead of the regular root beer or sprite he would have back home. As he contimplated where to sit down, he found a spot out of the way and dug into his food. Towards the end the call to action was made and he rushed to the room.

When inside he noted he was the second arrival and saluted before standing and waiting at attention. No reason to break the silence yet.

“My apologies, Captain,” Michi replied after a long moment, the queasiness of the unknown and the unexpected twisting her stomach and roaring in her ears. The man's eating habits weren't helping, either, and she closed her eyes for a long moment. Fortunately, she could hardly get any paler – but the grapefruit, half-eaten in front of her, looked distinctly less appealing, and even its smell, normally a divine temptation, soured. Carefully – almost too carefully, the exquisite precision of someone fighting their own senses – she laid down her spoon and blotted her lips with the napkin.

“I do not like the unknown, and I find myself...out of sorts...as a consequence.” A half-smile, one side of her mouth quirking upwards for a split-second. “Once I know the why of our deployment, things will improve. If-” she had been about to enquire after his cybernetics, a distraction from her own stomach and his...basic...table manners both, when the shriek of a microphone cut through the air and the order to report to the bridge came through, deep and sonorous.

If Michi had thought that Gregory had eaten quickly before, now he was a man possessed, powering through his food at an alarming rate and then all-but throwing his plate, bowl, cup and cutlery together and neatly slotting them into one of the racks before leaving at a march she would be hard-pressed to keep up with.

His cybernetics might have been ugly, but they were functional. In fact, they functioned very well, given the turn of speed the big man had put on. With a faint sigh, Michi pushed herself up from the table and went through the same motions as the captain, although at a rather more sedate speed. Not slow, exactly, but certainly not Gregory's inhuman pace either.

The bridge of the carrier was an impressive sight, a sweeping horseshoe of consoles filling the air with light and information as impeccably-uniformed UNF sailors and soldiers paced between them, discussing in low, earnest tones their duties and data and a million and one other things, all the myriad little details that went into keeping tens of thousands of tons of metal flying serenely above the ocean, in total contrast to its natural state. Even during the graveyard shift, the bridge barely changed; vital jobs had to be done, and machines cared little for the hour or for human failings and foibles like sleep and relaxation.

Unusually for the hour, however, and a sign that things were out-of-the-ordinary, the captain of the carrier himself was on deck, looking as fresh as a daisy and sipping coffee with every air of nonchalance whilst two others – her colleagues, in point of fact – stood at attention in front of him, ready and waiting to receive the briefing.

“Lieutenant Maganza reporting in, Captain Dawn,” she said crisply in her turn, salute flawless and body braced at parade-ground attention, fresh from the drill squares of the Royal College. Her eyes drifted idly over the files at his left, but she was skilled enough to keep her gaze quick and disinterested, allowing it to pass over them to gaze at the screens showing the carrier's progress through iron-gray clouds that were grossly pregnant with rain.

She returned her attention rapidly to his face, however, keenly interested to see his reaction and for any further information that might be forthcoming.

Yazmin looked towards Commander Hale, a momentary look of wonder crossing her face at the sight of the woman's smile and friendly wave. Back in UNF, the only person who treated her with fondness and warmth was her maker, Anton Miraj. He was both a father and a friend. Perhaps her relationship with Kate Miraj, the clone designated as "I," can be treated as some sort of competitive sibling relationship. But whatever relationship they may have, there was never really any warmth in it. For years, they went about their duties like mindless drones, with a pre-programmed goal of surpassing each other so that one day, they may go head to head with the Ordo Sanctus and bring an end to the horror the terrorists bring. At least that was how Yazmin saw Kate before the inhibitor chip had been removed from her. The moment she was free, she often wondered how Kate would behave after her own chip was removed and she had looked forward to it. But Kate had been one of the last few that Anton worked on. Removing the chip from UNF's ace clone pilot held that danger that they would be found out. She was sure Anton knew it. And on hind sight, maybe he was even ready for it, ready for his eventual death because of it. She always did wonder why Ordine was missing its locator chip when she had boarded it to escape. Did he mean for her to be the only survivor?

A second encrypted message had been sent to her a few seconds after Anton's message had arrived. In her rush to go to the scientist, she had pushed it aside and only opened it when she arrived at Ordo's base hours later.

Take care of yourself, Yaz. Live free. Kate. A simple, straightforward message. But it evoked such a strong emotion in her that she found herself crying for the first time in her entire life. Her tears seemed to flow out endlessly for hours, Anotn's, Kate's and the other clones' bloodied, lifeless bodies in her mind. In Kate's last moments, in her awakened state, she had thought about Yazmin and had cared enough to tell her to take care of herself. Did she feel fear when they struck her down? Did she curse her unnaturally created life?

With these thoughts running through her head, she made her way toward the Commander, a raven haired beauty that had immediately taken her in when she arrived. Yazmin knew that the commander herself had doubts about her and about why she was there. Yazmin saw it in her eyes as the older woman stared at her that day she arrived. But no matter her doubts, the captain provided her with shelter and even housed Ordine in the hangar. Of course, she was sure that guards have been placed to watch her. She could almost feel the rifles aimed at her head, ready to shoot if she made one wrong move. The 22-year-old didn't mind it. She understood the need for caution.

The confidence in the commander's voice perked her up and she found herself smiling. Once again, Yazmin compared her life in the UNF to her new life in Ordo. Sure, the accommodations in this place was a lot less comfortable but the people seemed warmer, more genuine... at least to a clone's point of view.

Yazmin stopped and stood beside the blonde haired captain and her thoughts shifted to her. Captain Aura Renae Kalstov. She was a lot older than she was but like Commander Hale, she exhibited the same warmth and friendliness to her subordinates. She wondered briefly what the taller woman thought of her, a deserter of the UNF. Did she know that Yazmin was an artificially grown human? She let the thoughts roll around in her head as they waited for Sergeant Neil Edwards to join them.

Aura dropped her salute at Hale's order and, glancing over to see Yaz approaching as well, gave an easy smile to the two of them. "Punctuality eh Commander? And here I was thinking it was just because I can do the job. Think if I start showing up to briefing an hour early they'll give me your job?" An easy laugh slid out of Aura as she joked with the commander, a woman Aura had worked with so frequently Aura probably knew her as well as Aura knew her own mother. That stray thought briefly sent Aura crashing into the past, memories overtaking the woman's mind for a second. "It's funny, looking back I remember being so worried about things back home that didn't matter. Things like how I was doing in school, or how much I liked Bo Thompson, or how to best surprise Dad with my results from my first race. Now, I'm out there fighting people with and against people half my age with our lives on the line, all for..." She was brought up short by that thought, cutting it off herself and suppressing the frown that threatened to overtake her face. It wouldn't do them any good to realize Aura wasn't an ardent believer in their cause anymore. They'd take her away from her command, from the men and women she could still protect, and if they decided to drum her out then....well, she didn't care to see ghosts of angry comrades, so she'd rather keep fighting.

All those thoughts passed in a few seconds, a passing thought that hit the Captain with disturbing frequency. She shook it off as ever, however, as she had a job to do, for her brothers and sisters who died right next to her. Glancing over at Yazmin sent Aura back to another, more recent memory. Aura reckoned it must have been the very night after Yazmin arrived that those soldiers from base security had approached her. They'd come to get her support to convince the Commander to detain Yazmin, torture her for intelligence then execute her. "A Feddie doesn't belong with us, Cap, and you know it!" Aura was thankful she commanded respect on this base, as all it had taken to dismiss that notion had been sternly warning the men to drop the subject and leave Yaz alone. Aura had known Yazmin would wind up as part of the squadron the moment she'd showed in a Valkinai, after all the Ordo didn't get many of them, and that made her, in Aura's mind, immediately under the veteran captain's protection. Since, Aura had still had to shoot down requests from several groups of personnel to bring their distrust of the woman to the commander, but it grew less and less frequent of late, as men finally warmed up to the girl.

Speaking of Yazmin, Aura turned her head towards the girl and asked "Are you all limbered up Yaz? You may not be as old as me, but stretching before a mission is still essential." This was part joke, but mostly checking the status of the young pilot. "'Young pilot', listen to me, I sound like a 60 year old woman! I'm only 36, not young but not nearly as old as I act." Of course, Aura was uncomfortably aware that before long she couldn't be the field officer she was now. Give a few more years and she'd slow down, too much for stretching and an obsessive workout schedule to compensate for. Then, past her combat prime, they'd sort her to a staff position where she couldn't protect her pilots. Aura dreaded the day that 'Captain Kalstov' become 'Major' or 'Colonel', and she'd be bound to a desk, unable to put herself in the line of fire for the sake of her subordinates. Again, Aura shook her drifting thoughts back to the problem at hand, adding to Yazmin "Your Valk is all taken care of too, right? Techs kept her in good shape? They better have or I'll light a fire under their ass bigger than the Longshot. Nobody makes one of my pilots go outside without the best."

It was true, of course, that Aura didn't expect the techs to have given the Ordine any less than their full attention. It may only be able to work for Yaz, and she may have to be there for maintenance, but it was still a Valkinai. The Ordo never let a suit go to waste, no matter who they put in the pilot seat, and the techs were dedicated to their trade. Finally dragging her mind back to the present, she noted Neil's salute and cracked a grin at his obvious attempt at over-the-top stiffness, she mustered her posh 'officer's meeting' voice and intoned "At ease, Sergeant. You may enter the briefing, but I expect your best behavior." After a straight faced moment of starting intensely at the young man she allowed a full smile to bloom as she chuckled, saying "Get over here Neil and stop bothering the techs for a minute eh? You're a pilot, time to get a briefing for you to pretend to remember! Have you stretched? Got your Valk settled? I don't need you asking me to carry you back to base and bottle feed you because you forgot to do your due diligence Neil!" The young pilot was easy to make fun of and provided plenty of material, though despite Aura's ribbing he pulled through in the field, that more than made up for his eccentricities in Aura's book. After all, they were a loose guerrilla army, not a stiff by-the-book field army like the UNF.

Hearing the call, John quickly headed towards the bridge. This was going to be the first mission for him in a while, so his excitement was taking the best of him, letting his imagination run wild regarding what kind of job and equipment was going to be needed, hoping this was not going to be his last task either. That pesimism would probably take a toll on him someday...

As he reached his destination, he saw he was the last arrival so far. Great, arguably late, that was going to be felt in his paycheck. "John Evans, reporting for duty." He said as he stood next to the team and saluted.

The faces one saw in the UNF never stopped surprising the young Evans. People of all races, sexes and even... Degrees of cybernetics, joining for one cause. Or perhaps, just like him, looking for a place to belong. Seeing the pile of files near his superior, John imagined the info about the machine he would pilot would be there. Considering he couldn't spend as much time at the hangar as he hoped, he wasn't up to date on the conditions of the vehicles and Valkinai, making this meeting slightly more important to him than ussual.

---

The youth almost literally deflated when he was told 'at ease' his puffed up chest and square shoulder slouching as he let out a breath. He wondered for the first time why he had so many women working with him, and no dudes. Not that he minded ladies. They were fun to poke fun at, but he distinctly remembered this guy he used to hang with. JK was his name? Fun guy, he missed him. Still, back to the present, he had many of his teammates seemingly talking all at once (in his eyes) and did not know how to properly reply to everyone.

Neil suddenly blinked and rocked back as if stunned, holding his hands up in defeat. "Ladies please, there's enough of me to go around." His voice took a deep, stereotypical low tone as he spoke. And then just as suddenly, he was back to his usual self, eyes full of mischief and mayhem, but an intelligence that belied his goofy nature. "Cool, SO-" he clapped his hands together as he approached. "-I hear, we have something juicy to...actually I have no clue what we are doing. What are we doing?"

He pointed to Aura without looking at her. "Don't answer that. I'd rather hear it from Commander Hale and I know how you just try to spoil everyone's fun and it's NOT HAPPENING TODAY MISSY and I am holding this meeting up aren't I? You know what? I'll be back here if you need me." He ran his thumb and middle finger across his lips in a zipping motion and stood at attention.

---

@Deadnaut@Kyrisse@Musaki Hajime

@Hell Coos@The 4 Winds@Valor@Marquise

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@POOHEAD189@Deadnaut@Kyrisse

Gregory raised an eyebrow at the plan, and began to speak. "If I may comment, the package details being quite sketchy seems rather... Alarming, don't you think? Do we know if the source of this package is trustworthy? What of the delivery target, are they trustworthy? I've read a large amount of books in my day, and sketchy packages going wrong has come up more than once."

Gregory would have folded his arms, but while he still possessed elbow movement his powered claw was much larger than his other arm, so he merely gave his head a slight tilt and indicated the map as he spoke of the origin and destination trustworthiness. Gregory was always suspicious of delivery missions. The use of deadly force was actually a welcome change to Gregory, as most of the time he had to constantly check Ba'al's fire due to the restraint upon killing that was frequently laid down. It was odd to Gregory to imprison somebody for life knowing that you had no need nor reason to free them at a later date, merely shooting them and burying them would suffice. Even then, the "Rogue agent" gambit of unleashing a prisoner upon the enemy frequently backfired and was largely unreliable.

Thinking of something else to ask, Gregory posed another question not long later, though likely after Dawn had responded to his previous question. "Are all targets en-route to be considered hostile or are we working in a civilian populated area? What's our engagement rules? Will we have any air support should the heat turn up?"

Gregory didn't like going into a mission with little intel, and shaky intel on top of that. Gregory was a man of facts and solid, double checked information. Something not being double checked often lead to mistakes and, as the powered claw on Gregory's arm indicated, sometimes those mistakes were rather costly.

Gregory now could do nothing more than late. He had stood at attention as his other team members had arrived, since it would go against regulations to acknowledge them as they appeared. Alpha Team was supposed to be a highly elite group that ran like greased clockwork, Gregory did his best to make it seem like that was the case. Though obviously there were cases where this didn't happen.

"Is there a time limit to this mission, sir?" John asked first, as he eyed the file given to him, looking for information about what he was supposed to pilot this time as well as more information regarding the hostiles movements around the area.