The arrival of the salvage crew gave her just a small reason to pause her premeditated assault.  It wasn't a murder, it wasn't going to be a murder, but the first person with a bruise on their face to backsass her was going to catch a few inches of iron into his or her jaw instead of a few millimeters of lead.  Ingrid's taken that sort of corrective measure before.  She came out a fine officer.  What kind of military academy didn't beat their students every once in a while?  Presumably a Free Worlds League one, which is why they'll never amount to anything.

[color=SteelBlue]"Of all the times to arrive..."[/color]

She felt little of the joy the others did over the recovered 'mech.  That'd be someone else's day made, not hers.  Her pistol raised back up to threaten the sky instead of the rioters, with Ingrid's temper briefly turning toward someone else instead.  [color=SteelBlue]"I could have gone into the infantry if it weren't for the physical requirements,"[/color] she snapped back at Marit, which was an indirect way of admitting she was too short to be considered for the cor, [color=SteelBlue]"and I know exactly what I'm doing!"[/color]  She stepped off her box, keeping any comments about it similarly unsaid, then unloaded and ejected the remaining rounds.  Stuffing the gun into her pants, she then...

...also took a spot in line.  Shameful as it was, she considered herself as much of a participant as the others, and she'd take those strikes like a fucking champ.  Even with a fractured collarbone!  This ended up with her awkwardly standing behind Marit, and this lead to a bit of an unwise discussion.

[color=SteelBlue]"In a real military unit, my decision would've been seen as sound.  SOMEONE has to break it up, regardless of cost."[/color]