Petals of Carbon Steel -- You're a Pilot, Not an Ace. Try your best.

"So, we stealing a ship or what?" Azara asks the briefing room at large, snagging the back of her workstation and pulling herself into it. The workstations are arranged in rows — with the deck of the hangar as the floor, three are mounted to the right wall, three to the left, and three on the ceiling. All of them face the station at the far end of the room, where Sails is already waiting. The briefing room is little more than a box welded fast to one corner of the hangar, off-white walls plain and unadorned. Both it and the nearby locker room supposedly function as an emergency shelter in the case of a catastrophic hull breach, but... no one's in a hurry to actually test that.

Already strapped into the station in front of Azara, your squad leader looks at her with a sort of long-suffering resignation. "Wait for the briefing to start, Black," he says. "That way the commander doesn't have to repeat herself." Sunny Monserrato's looks are boyish, for all that he's older than you are, but his eyes are dead serious. Deep, olive complexion, thick, black hair begging for fingers to run through it — he's popular with women, and you can honestly see the appeal. Until you notice the immaculate state of his uniform jacket, the perfect order in which he keeps his workstation, and understand on a deep and intrinsic level that you would drive each other insane if you ever gave that a shot.

Also, you work together. Which seems like the sort of thing he'd care about.

Azara gives Sunny a mock-charming smile. When she does that, it makes her look distressingly cherubic. Distressingly, because you've been working together long enough to know what she's actually like. "You know me, boss: impatient." You shoot the two of them an almost fond look as you pull yourself into the last of Squad B's three workstations, the one behind Azara.

"And loud." This is from the woman seated in Squad A's row. Given that her squad leader is also Commander Sails, Jay's absence means that she's the only regular member currently seated in it. Kitty Wehrschmidt — tall, blonde, perpetually bored. And currently ignoring Milo Owusu, who has quietly claimed the unused workstation in front of her. After a moment, Kitty takes the bait: "What makes you think we're stealing a ship?"

"The Commander says that Pirate's 'background' is going to come in handy," Azara says. "So! I figure, we're stealing a ship." Sails sighs, but doesn't step in to stop the chatter just yet. You've never been able to decide if Azara's nicknames are affectionate, mocking... or just a result of her being very bad at keeping track of names. Maybe all three. Yours is not precisely her most subtle work.

"Mostly, I robbed ships," you correct her. Not for the first time. "Stealing the whole thing is almost always more trouble than it's worth."

"It's so nice for the people you robbed that you at least left them a ship," says the pilot in the workstation directly opposite yours. Ryan Ross is large, brown-haired and ruddy-faced. And of course, always unhappy — or at least, he's unhappy while you're around.

You meet Ryan's gaze, smile, and carefully tuck a strand of hair behind your ear — complete theatrics, of course: Hair will do what it wants in zero gravity, and yours is braided out of the way. "Well, don't get me wrong. If we could have, we'd probably have taken the ships more often but... then what? Have you ever tried to flip a stolen cargo ship? Buyers are a nightmare to track down. More trouble than it's worth. And running it ourselves, well... crew, fuel, supplies, retrofits to suit our needs. The costs add up, and it's just not practical."

Ryan clenches his jaw, staring daggers. His family ran merchant ships "Ryan." He glances up to see his own squad leader giving him a warning look.

Ryan pointedly turns away from you, staring straight ahead instead. "Right. Sorry," He says.

Shen Zhìháo gives him an approving, sympathetic look, before glancing across at Sunny, as if to silently reprove the younger squad leader for not doing more to keep you in line. Sunny sighs uncomfortably, twisting in his seat to give you a beseeching look. Zhìháo has that effect on people when he looks disappointed in them. Lean, battlescarred and silver-haired at nearly 50, he's older than Commander Sails by several years, and has been running mecha squads since before Sunny was born.

"Sorry, Squad," you tell Sunny, shrugging. He doesn't break eye contact right away — you've been told many times that you don't have the most apologetic face, even when you're being sincere. After a moment, he sighs, clearly deciding this is the best he's going to get.

"That's enough, people," Commander Sails says. "Cam's decided to grace us with her presence. We can start."

Squad C's final pilot, Lý Thị Cam, cringes as the rest of the room glances at her in unison. She shoots Sails a harried sort of look. "Sorry, Commander," she says. "I was fixing a power coupling for the captain." Cam has always reminded you a little of a quick, intelligent mouse. The fact that she's small enough to actually hide behind Ryan aids this impression.

"Try to plan a little better, Cam," Sails says. Not for the first time, and probably not for the last.

"Right, Commander," Cam mutters.

Seeing everyone in place, Sails straightens up at the head of the room, floating by her workstation with a casual hand gripping its edge. "Alright, team. I realise we've been keeping the details of this operation a little tight to the chest. Our... advisor from Saturn knows more than the rest of you, but I'm sure you all have gathered that we're intercepting a transport."

At his mention, Commander Owusu gives a cocky sort of half-wave, half-salute. She's right, you all had known this much. And more than that, rumours of Owusu's strident disagreement had trickled out to more than just Jay. He doesn't voice that now. You listen carefully, yourself. It must be something interesting, whatever this cargo is, for this to be kept so close to the chest. Not just finished goods from down the gravity well, salvaged tech from up, like you dealt with in the old days.

"Our target is a Verdant Class transport, flying civilian colours." As Sails says this, she uses her free hand to tap her workstation, and a schematic appears on all of your displayers. You study the familiar layout of that ubiquitous transport hull. Relatively compact and relatively fast as light transports go, with a rarer military configuration used for certain supply runs. A good, reliable vessel and a bit of a cash cow for people in your old profession.

Still, the word 'civilian' makes you raise your eyebrows with interest. Cam and Azara make sounds of surprise. Ryan nearly explodes.

"That's it?" he demands. "That's the big, secret mission? Attacking civilian shipping?"

"Shipping flying a civilian flag," you correct him, voice calm.

"Is this really the time for fucking pedantry?" He very clearly wants to throttle you.

Despite that, you explain. "It's flying a civilian signature. I can put on a nice hat and tell you that I'm Empress Dawn herself, but I don't think you'll start bowing and calling me 'your Divine Majesty' anytime soon." You smile a little at the comparison. Kitty lets out an amused scoff, and in front of her, Owusu actually laughs out loud. You turn your attention back to Commander Sails, leaving Ryan to fume. "You don't need three squads of combat-grade mecha to hijack a civilian Verdant," you say. "The military version though? One of their cargo bays converts to a mecha hangar, in a pinch. Only room for a few, but that changes the equation." You spin the 3D schematic hovering in front of you, and use a gloved finger to indicate the compartment in question, highlighting it so that this part of the ship is pinged on the other displays in the room. "I'm right, aren't I, Commander?" You try not to sound smug about it.

Sails nods, looking at least a little pleased, although she glances between you and Ryan warily before continuing. "You are right that this vessel we're targeting is being employed in a covert operation," she says. "According to our Galilean source, it left a secure facility in outer orbit with an escort. There will, however, be an approximately ten hour window in which this escort will withdraw, the ship will match a predetermined velocity and trajectory, and will proceed alone under minimal power. This course has been chosen to intersect exactly with an ordinary Divine Navy patrol route."

Now, the Verdant schematic shrinks down, and is replaced in prominence by a model of Jupiter, the vectors of the ship and the enemy patrol plainly visible as coloured lines traced along the plane of the gas giant's orbit.

"Ten hours is tight," you say.

"Very," Owusu agrees. "And that's if this information is precisely correct."

"Our source has always come through before," Sails says, calmly. "And we are perfectly on schedule. It should only be a handful of badly surprised mecha and one unarmed transport with minimal point defence."

"Should, should, should," Owusu says, low enough to be ignored.

Zhìháo raises a hand and asks the real question. "And what, precisely, is this cargo that's worth all this?"

Sails presses something else on her workstation, and a fresh schematic appears on your display. This one a mecha. "The only functional prototype of the Divine Navy's most advanced new mecha," she says.

You take in the details of the machine in question, and as you read what specifications you have in front of you, your eyes go increasingly wide, impressed.

"Pretty scary stuff," Azara mutters to you. "I wouldn't want to see that thing up and running in a real fight, huh, Pirate?"

Neither would you, if you have to be on the other side of it. But your name isn't really Pirate. What is?

/////PoCS/////

[ ] Book, Albertine
[ ] Gain, Priya
[ ] Himegami Kana
[ ] Larsen, Natassia
[ ] Solares, Katherine
[ ] Wong, October