Petals of Titanium -- My Life as a Mecha Setting Bridge Bunny Quest

You're in a standoff, the protective bulk of the escort fleet forming up around the Lily and, almost incidentally, you. Before long, you watch as the dots representing the enemy fleet begin to slow down, then match velocity -- they're too distant for attack by either party to be practical. It's possible that you won't be caught up in another battle.

Which would be good, because the Titanium Rose is in absolutely no shape for fighting. Alarms blare from all around the ship. Fires and hull breaches and system failures. It's only gradually, and with a great deal of direction from the ship's senior officers, that they quiet. Half the cargo capacity. More than half of the weapon's systems. Large chunks of the ship's armour simply blown off, minor hull breaches in crew quarters and transit shafts… it's a mess, and even before the casualties start officially rolling in, you all knew that the list would be long and painful.

"The Night Lily is capable of making the rest of the voyage, granted your protection, Commodore," the Princess says, her face taking up fully half of the video screen on the bridge. You wonder, dimly, if that's on purpose -- if there's an algorithm in the conference call software that knows to put a member of the royal family ahead of everyone else. Lord Hawk, the officer commanding the escort fleet, and Captain Patel take up smaller segments of the screen. The captain's presence, in this case, seems almost a formality -- the princess is doing all the talking for the Lily, perhaps suggesting a degree of displeasure with how the battle was managed. "The Rose kept the worst of it off of us, and the cargo is safe. I believe they're in worse shape than we are. Captain?"

Andre nods at the screen, ignoring the quiet, controlled chaos taking place behind her. "Thank you, your highness." Both for the acknowledgement of the Rose's sacrifice, as well as the simple fact that the princess's question gives Andre, a common-born Commander, a chance to speak much sooner than she otherwise would. "And we have all the fires put out, but… yes, things were closer than we'd like, and we won't be any use in a fight before we get serious repair work done. If I may, is there any news on the status of our two pilots?"

Hawk is a dour, horse-faced man, dark hair kept severely short beneath his elaborately decorated officer's cap. He looks back at Andre through his own screen, the familiar, chevron shape of his cruiser, the HIMS Imperial Thorn's bridge comparatively sedate behind him. He is clearly rattled by all this, by the change of plans brought on by the destruction of his charge and the sudden appearance of Princess Daystar herself. When he speaks, though, his voice is steady and surprisingly soft. "The enemy is staying at enough of a distance that we've sent out retrieval teams," he says. "Is your ship in good enough shape to accept damaged mecha and wounded pilots?"

Andre thinks for a moment. "If… either of them are severely wounded, it would be greatly appreciated if they could be cared for on another ship -- our med bay is undamaged, but heavily overwhelmed. We have other injured."

It seems a little optimistic to you, to bank on not one, but both of the lost pilots being recovered alive, and you suspect many around the bridge feel the same. Still, no one wants them to be dead, and it seems like a good call to keep hope alive as long as possible. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Anja, stiff-shouldered as she works at her workstation with an automatic detachment. Some of you need hope left alive more than others.

"A reasonable request," Hawk says, nodding. "You will, of course, be provided with extra medical personnel and supplies, when we can arrange it -- assuming we don't all end up in another battle." It would be a strange fight. The array of relatively light enemy crafts, along with the Flower carriers certainly outnumber the escort fleet. But they're not quite equipped to take on multiple cruisers with accompanying frigates, and their collective mecha compliments. To your eye, it would be a brutal fight if it came to that, but not a smart one for either side, if it could be avoided.

"Thank you, sir," Andre says again. "I am in your debt."

It's only about half an hour before you hear word on the pilots, although it feels much longer, with the enemy still arrayed against you across the cold gulf of space. It's good news at first.

"Lady Perbeck is alive, but unconscious," Mazlo reports, smiling thinly, some of the stress finally going out of him. He's been wound so tightly ever since the situation with the Strawberry began that you've wondered if he's going to snap. "Significant damages to her Mecha, but nothing unrepairable."

There's a collective exhalation around the bridge at the news, with everyone looking a little less tense… apart from Anja. If anything, she's even more tense. She's given up even the pretense of doing work, instead turning to stare in Mazlo's direction for the agonisingly long seconds he spends listening to the voice on the other end. His smile drops, and he carefully doesn't look in her direction, simply continuing to address Captain Andre.

"They've recovered Sub-Lieutenant Ito's Banner," he says, slowly.

As he continues talking, you watch Anja's entire body go slack, like a puppet whose strings have been cut, and her eyes go horribly blank.


On board the Divine Navy ship HDMS Amaranth

"It was my belief that the mission was a failure and that we needed to save what officers we could, ma'am," Mosi says, rigidly at attention. The Captain's cabin is relatively ornate, the walls adorned with framed medals, still and moving images from Sir Ivanov's long career. He's strapped in at his desk now, silently watching the conversation unfold. Mosi herself holds onto a ceiling-mounted handhold, to keep herself as straight as possible in zero gravity, her helmet tucked against her hip with her other arm. She's still wearing the brilliant white of her pilot's suit.

"Do you believe that your withdrawal had nothing to do with the deaths of Lieutenant Edgar and his remaining squad?" Lady Chavez looks at Mosi through the video screen with a cool intensity that seems to speak very plainly of a desire to find someone to blame. "They were killed by the pilot you let get away."

"Yes, ma'am, I do believe that," Mosi tells the Commodore carefully, eyes locked on thin air somewhere to the upper left of the video screen's camera lens.

"Explain yourself, Lieutenant North."

There it is. The pointed stress placed on her name. On Mosi's family name -- many had sided with the pretender following the civil war, but few did so in quite such dramatic fashion as Dame Nalah North, an obscure knight who rocketed herself to infamy in the Holy Empire by personally defeating several Imperial guardsmen and wounding the Emperor's own son early in the retreat to Saturn. And fewer still had defied the will of the emperor quite so brazenly as Dame Nalah's late husband, who, when offered a chance at survival, had refused to denounce his traitor wife and deliberately placed himself in line for the firing squad. The General on Mars had wanted to spare him -- a gifted and respected accountant, and the kind of bureaucrat the Holy Empire had needed desperately, at that point in the war. Instead, the general had been humiliated in front of his own troops and the Martian populace alike.

Mosi is unbelievably fortunate to be alive, let alone having any career at all after that. Looking into Chavez's cold eyes, she is struck by that familiar feeling of being a mouse in a den of cat's. Infuriating, given how far she's pushed herself to escape that. "I believe that prolonging the conflict would not have saved anyone, ma'am, only resulting in more deaths. The pilot I was fighting was extraordinarily skilled, and their mecha was of a strange design with great capabilities -- they would likely have eliminated me shortly, and there was the matter of enemy reinforcements visible on scan. It is my belief that Lieutenant Edgar's insistence on performing a final bombing run on the Lily before withdrawal resulted in the deaths you refer to."

Lady Chavez stares at her for a long moment, eyes flicking to the silent figure of Ivanov seated in the background for the briefest of moments. "Very well, North," she says. "Be aware: You are on thin ice. If you'll excuse me, Sir Ivanov, I believe we have a withdrawal to manage." She says the word withdrawal like it tastes foul in her mouth. She won't say "retreat." It's a bitter pill for everyone, most of all Mosi, returned in disgrace.

"Thank you, ma'am," Mosi says. The feed cuts out.

"She's right about one thing, North," Ivanov says, good naturedly, extricating himself from his chair, "we have a retreat to manage. We can't afford to throw the entire raiding force away in pitched combat with one particular fleet."

"Yes, sir," Mosi agrees, pushing herself out the hatch ahead of him. She stops up short in the shaft, letting the captain pass her -- Commander Green is waiting there, casual as always there.

"So, are we throwing you out the nearest airlock, Kid?" he asks. He knows that it went as well as could be expected, from the mix of frustration and relief that she wears openly on her face. He wouldn't joke about such things otherwise.

"You're stuck with me for the time being, sir," she says, primly.

Green gestures down the shaft, indicating that she should follow. "Maybe not," he says, ambiguously.

She frowns. "... Sir?"

"Well," he says, shrugging, "I was going to offer this anyway, but right now… your career could definitely use the boost -- in the last comms burst, before we got into this fiasco, the main force is asking for skilled pilots to run an infiltration mission. You've got the training for that, right?"

Mosi frowns, completely thrown off balance, as she drifts alongside him. "You… want me to volunteer, sir?" she asks.

"I'm telling you you should," Green says, with a shrug. "Besides: you might run into a familiar face. It's over Iapetus. That's where intel said your mother was stationed last, right?"


On board the Titanium Rose

The enemy in retreat, the two wounded ships, along with escort fleet, altering trajectory to proceed directly to Iapetus. Once everything was finally in order, Andre had belatedly brought them back down to level three, and immediately switched to skeleton bridge crew only, barring further notice. This meant immediate relief for everyone… barring herself. Grayson had looked intent on arguing with her on that point, but it's not your primary concern right now.

Anja was the first out of her seat, the first out of the hatch, and you almost don't catch sight of what direction she's going. You trail after her slack, listless form in the shaft ahead of you, weaving past busy workers, avoiding shafts and verticals that have been closed off due to battle damage. By now, the Rose feels as if one more skirmish would be enough to finish her off. The scouting ship simply isn't designed to stand up to such sustained punishment without proper repair.

You finally catch up to her in short and surprisingly deserted stretch of crew deck, in a row of cabins near a direct vertical to the Mecha Bay. You realise, belatedly, that you're in the pilot's quarters. Anja has stopped in front of a particular cabin door, one hand braced white-knuckled on the handle directly above the cabin's hatch. She's breathing hard, and, as you drift nearer, visibly shaking.

"Anja?" you call, but she doesn't seem to hear you. Instead, she lets out a throttled sort of scream, and brings a clenched fist down hard on the closed cabin door. The name glowing above the hatch says "S.Lieut ITO"

"Anja!" you shout, propelling yourself forward faster as you see her repeat the action. The med bay is full of people who have serious injuries, and the medics will not be pleased if she breaks her own hand in a fit of grief. She turns around, then, eyes wide and face pale, and when you pull to a stop beside her, reaching out for her arm, she at first tries to pull away.

"I didn't tell you to follow me, North! Just… just leave!"

You persist, unthinkingly, your hand closing around her forearm, and she reacts as if you've clapped her in irons, struggling vigorously, face cycling between muted anger and confusion. "No! No! I'm… I'm…" before you can let go, she's reversed course entirely, and you feel her warm, teary weight slamming into you, her arms wrapping around your shoulders as she buries her face against your uniform. You let go of the handle to hold onto her, the two of you drifting aimlessly across the empty shaft.

"I'm so, so sorry," you say, voice a low whisper. "He was very brave."

"He was an idiot!" she snaps, still shaking in your arms. "North… Amani, I don't… I don't want to." She gasps, and sobs again, her whole body full of a frustrated tension. "Dammit I'm… I'm an officer!"

"It's fine," you say, softly, your heart breaking for your friend's loss. "No one else is here. I don't think any less of you. I know what losing a sibling is like."

There's a moment more of self conscious waffling, before she gives in to anguished, exhausted sobs.


Your duties on the way to Iapetus are shockingly light, compared to what they have been so far -- ordinarily, a ship like the Rose travelling with a group of ships this size would be taking point, ranging ahead as a fast scout and courier, and your plate would be quite full. Now, though, she's travelling right in the thick of the formation, guarded on all sides by heavier ships. There's little in the way of delicate scan work to be done that isn't somewhat redundant.

This leaves you at surprising loose ends on a ship full of exhausted and shell-shocked spacers, and between finally catching up on what sleep you can get and carrying out what duties you do have, you once again find yourself in possession of some free time. There are several people you would like to get a chance to check in on, as well as something worrisome:

Tragically, among the dead this time is Petty Officer Nowak, and, while it seems everyone is reasonably certain that the young girl didn't die in the battle, Faiza has disappeared. The Petty Officer was the one who was looking after the girl, upon your suggestion, and with her gone, the only other person who knows about Faiza's forays into the maintenance shafts is Guardswoman J6. Last time you had any contact, you had the impression that Faiza still holds a dislike of you from your first encounter in the mecha bay. It still might be a good idea to check up on her. Who do you manage to speak to?


You have three points of downtime to spend this time. I will not make you buy a conversation with Anja at this point, that is going to happen automatically. Votes will be counted together, please select enough options to use up all your downtime -- just picking one will only make it harder to tally the votes.

[ ] Speak with Lady Perbeck, one downtime

[ ] Speak with Guardwoman J6, one downtime

[ ] Check on Faiza, one downtime

[ ] Volunteer for extra duties doing basic scut work around the infirmary, two downtime