[img]https://images.evetech.net/characters/2112987026/portrait?size=128[/img][h3][color=aba000]Hamazasp Sulser[/color][/h3]
His rotating turrets slowed to a crawl. Hamazasp loosed a sizable yet silent yawn, reflected in a barely noticeable heave from the light 'Mech. He'd failed to ground the Leopard, not that a crashed transport would be possible or wouldn't generate countless more concerns. Nonetheless, his comrades scavenged the base. The time for cautious trepidation was clearly ended, his role rendered obsolete.

He indeed detected the dumb blue metal gauntlet on the crate's side. From his elevated vantage, there was sparingly little he didn't oversee, like yon soldier who quite erroneously thought he could scratch his crotch with impunity. His instinctual reaction was to consider the discrepancies between Commonwealth patron and pirate recipient. Did Steiner even comprehend 'Mechs as puny as the Locusts he fought? And why wouldn't the pirates bring out the quality stuff? He shortly realized that he was calling fate retarded for its mercy. Demanding that God send Sulser an Atlas to fight his Locust and sate his sense of reason was unwise, to say the least.

The minutes lingered, and he spotted a pattern amid his superior's monologue. Despite obviously noticing the mysterious sponsor, Ulrik mentioned it neither across the comms nor to his subordinates. Hamazasp's rule of thumb was that no data was secret unless expressly declared as such (a maxim that had accidentally cost many personal and professional relationships in his dairy career). The Taurian was smart enough, though, to understand treason. [color=aba000]"Sir Commander, is this, well, 'conspiracy' now confidential information, on a need to know basis? In case nosy folk ask questions, is all."[/color]

His colleagues carried cargo around and through his legs. He made a concerted effort to think still thoughts for, um, likely an hour, he calculated, given the sheer volume of illicit trade goods. [color=aba000]"I further wish the record to state that I'd assist if my vehicle had suitable arm appendages."[/color] He wiggled his stubs as proof, momentarily forgetting the machine guns attached to them. Perhaps this was how the tyrannosaurus once felt.