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

Space,
Near Brightwood Station


The tension is pretty awful. But at least no one's shooting yet.

Jay, still surrounded, decouples from the station and begins making the long, arduous journey back to his squad. He's going relatively slow — it's important not to set the pirates off, of course, but it's a little excruciating to watch.

You know that your leadership, newly armed with the knowledge of the SRI team's status, is negotiating with the pirates to bring this standoff to an end. The pirates want to leave. You want them to go. Simple, on paper. Space has never mapped out onto paper very well.

When things fall apart, it starts with Kitty. Your squad is close enough to respond if things go wrong, far enough away not to be actively suspicious. While you and Owusu bore the brunt of the danger earlier, you're beginning to worry that the real danger with her is simply going to be fatigue. There's an edge in her voice she's trying to hide, but which you don't particularly like — it's not quite getting to her reaction time yet, but resolve can only carry her so far.

One of the pirates makes an abrupt course correction, the jerkiness as much to do with the makeshift nature of the pirate mecha as anything else. Kitty, though, reacts as if it's a precursor to attack.

"Squad, no!" your shout comes too late.

Kitty's weapon comes up, moving to track their movement. The pirate notices. The burst of automatic fire goes wide, but the damage has been done. It's pinged on everyone's scans.

"Hold your fire!" Nazaret's voice insists. "All pilots, hold your—" The pirates burst into panicked action all at once, scattering into attack formations. "Fuck, never mind!" Naz surmises.

Jay is still partially surrounded, abruptly fighting for his life, calling on every scrap of ability he has in addition to the Hecate's raw capabilities. He's too harried to deploy any drones, just weaving out of the way of oncoming danger, laying down fire on all sides to buy himself more time.

"We're helping Tham!" Kitty says. You frankly don't need much urging — Ryan and Cam are his squadmates now, but their Lancers are slower and frailer than the Pennants. Your squad is better equipped for this. And you don't want to watch him die here like this, after having been a stupid, noble idiot.

As the three of you rush forward to save him, the damaged pirate ship begins to buckle under the weight of the Esther Strova's renewed bombardment. Ohara's wolves are going to go down here — it's just a matter of how much damage they do on the way.

And to whom.

/////PoCS\\\\\

Brightwood Station,
Interior

"What do you think it means, ma'am?"

SRI Lieutenant Amani North shakes her head gently. "It's impossible to tell, Frost. But any moment they're not shooting us is one more chance for our side to get us out of this."

Frost nods, a frightened young man holding fast to any reassurance he can. Part of Amani wants to think of him as a frightened boy — he can't be more than a few years her junior, but... surely, she'd never looked quite this young in a uniform.

All three surviving members of Amani's boarding party look to her now, huddling in this tiny compartment behind a dubiously sealed security hatch. Three technicians armed with sidearms they've been trained to use, but have never fired in combat before today. It's not as though Amani's so different — this has been her first time taking a life directly. Seeing someone alive and well one instant, the next bleeding from a hole in their chest that she'd put there herself. The real thing is very different from a firing range, and she'll have time to feel something about that later. For now, three sets of eyes are looking to Amani, and they can't be permitted to see her break even for a moment. She's responsible for these people. For these three who she hasn't already lost.

All of them are in an interior airlock, an emergency failsafe separating one of the main spaceport hangars from the rest of the station's mid-section. The hatch behind them sealed at the same time they got the one they're hiding behind to lock — there's no escape out that way. At the very least, they're all wearing spacesuits in SRI green, even if Jens' seems to have lost her helmet at some point. Amani and the two other specialists have theirs secured to the back of their suits, ready to be crammed on at a moment's notice.

"... what's that sound?" Jens demands, now. Everyone freezes.

"Get clear of the hatch!" Amani shouts. They all scramble to comply, pulling themselves toward the walls in all directions, moments before the security hatch blows inward, accompanied by a scream. The air is thick with electrical smoke, and there's a body drifting in the middle of it all. It's Frost, his head staved in where a section of the hatch struck home. "Helmets on — Jens, take Frost's," Amani says, coughing against the smoke. Some inevitably gets sealed in with the good air, but as her helmet's filtration system kicks in, it's quickly cycled out.

Figures appear ahead through the smoke — the pirates, attempting to surge in and make a grab for them. Amani braces herself as best she can with one hand, raises the gun in the other, takes aim and fires. The shapes dart away, although she only grazed one. "Can we get this hatch closed again?" Amani asks.

"They blew the mechanism!" Jens reports, through her borrowed helmet's comm link. "Should we just surrender?"

Amani hates herself for her next words. "Jens, you know that's not an option. They could sell us to the HSE."

"I—" the specialist swallows hard. She's young. She doesn't want to die. But she wants that even less. "... understood, ma'am," she whispers.

Voice-activated tongue-patch dispensers are a standard feature with USE military space helmets. A simple mechanism, able to supply the user with a stimulant or mild painkiller, for emergency use. The SRI helmets are loaded with similar substances, but they also have another substance in them that other branches don't deem necessary. One that they all know might be relevant very shortly: An SRI operative is not taken alive.

Amani tries to imagine Lori's hands guiding her aim as she settles herself into zero-gravity firing position again. Even as her heart already accepts she'll likely never feel those hands on hers ever again. "I love you, darling," Amani whispers. Her comm is closed, no one else hears the word. "And I'm sorry."

Then, blinding pain and hot blood drifting through the air. She was sorry.

/////PoCS\\\\\

Space,
Near Brightwood Station

The second pirate ship finally tries to make a run for it, undocking from the station after they see the first messily blown to pieces. They don't get far.

An alarm blares in your ear. You strained an arm joint at some point during all this, which your suit's operating system finds very upsetting. Your armour has numerous little dings and scrapes, your thruster array giving off a slightly wrong hum. Your Pennant is going to need a serious overhaul.

Compared to the pirates you're fighting, though, you might as well be an unstoppable juggernaut. An—

A pirate mecha scores a telling hit along your torso. Through your sudden panic, you can't help but feel that you deserved that for the line of thought that the enemy machine just interrupted. You wheel away from further damage — the pirate ups their attack, understanding that letting you get any sort of distance on them will only result in their swift demise.

Owusu is busy helping Kitty, true to his word. That leaves you in an awkward position, until a familiar swarm of drones flies into view, beginning to burn through the pirate's armour.

"Wait, wait, wait, I give up! The pirate you're fighting abruptly powers down weapons. "I give up, I give up!"

"Jay, don't kill her?" you ask.

"Right." His drones power down. "You're welcome, by the way".

She's not the only one surrendering. The heat of the moment spent and the prospect of death heavy on everyone's mind, the remaining pirates are trying their best to surrender, some more effectively than others. You wonder if the second pirate ship is trying to do the same, when the Ester Strova's main gun manages to finally blow it apart.

This is a mess, but it's winding down. Individual pirates, their momentary panic having destroyed the leverage they had over you — the fact that you didn't want this to happen — are surrendering unconditionally.

At what cost, though?

You end up sending Cam in. The Lancers still have an anti-personnel gun attached to their frames, and she's come out of the fighting unscathed, this time. You all wait nervously as she enters the mecha airlock, cycling it open in order to gain access to the station's hangar beyond.

Through her camera feed, shared with you all, a jumpy and bedraggled group of pirates floats in front of her, hands behind their head, eyes wide as the mecha's weapon trains on them. The hangar shows clear signs of a firefight, including bodies drifting across the open space, pirate and SRI boarding parties both.

Soon, she finds what happened to the rest of Lieutenant North's team.

/////PoCS\\\\\

Seven pirates survive, all told. Between the confused fighting in space and the bitter shoot out on the station, the rest are gone. The Esther has a brig module — they'll keep for now. There were less survivors from the SRI team.

Back on the Esther Strova, you lock your mecha into place and you're able to slip out of your cockpit for the first time in hours, wrenching your helmet off with a grateful gasp of relatively-fresh air. Yorke and his repair crew have a relieved air about them. They're hardly pleased about the damage to the mecha, but it was light, compared to last time.

The mood among the pilots isn't nearly so optimistic. Milo Owusu is stone-faced. Not his usual air of self-satisfied good humour, but an icy cold blankness as he looks at you all.

Kitty approaches him almost right away. She's looking distinctly drawn, even paler than usual. For more than one reason, you think. "Look, I--"

"I apologise," Owusu says. "I must get in contact with my colleagues aboard the Creeping Ivy."

Kitty trails after him as he drifts purposefully toward the hatch. "I didn't mean for any of this!" she says, her whisper coming out too loud.

"Squad Leader Wehrschmidt," Owusu says, catching himself on the edge of the hatch to face her. There's something tight in his voice -- controlled anger. "When you go into action unfit for battle, it is not only you who you're putting at risk. Let this be a lesson to you, if nothing else."

Then he's gone.

Kitty closes her eyes, muscles tensed. "Are you going to tell me 'I told you so', Kana?" she demands.

"Oh, no," you say. "I doubt anything I could say is necessary after that, just now."

Kitty looks miserable. "Right," she mutters. "I guess not."

Besides -- her knowing that you could have said it, but are holding off, is all the better than indulging in the real thing. People died. This is a teaching moment. She doesn't get to distract herself by finding a reason to be mad at you instead.

/////PoCS\\\\\

At long last, it's finally time to get what you all came to this wretched place for, as much as morale isn't the highest. The AIJ suffered little for its blunder, even if the SRI can't say the same.

They're still coming through on their end of the arrangement, however. Both the Esther Strova and the Creeping Ivy are docked at the station, transferring mecha parts and other supplies over to you. True to Kitty's word, you aren't leaving the ship. Instead, you're loitering around the hangar, watching the supplies be brought in. None of the SRI personnel seem particularly pleased to see any of you. That's to be expected. More surprising, the woman overseeing them is obviously injured — it takes you a moment to realise that she must have been one of the two survivors from the boarding party.

You're not the only one surprised. "I thought you were in treatment." Owusu looks at the officer with some genuine, open concern.

"Hello to you too, sir," she says, saluting awkwardly with her one good arm. The other is slung against her chest, clearly injured. A med-patch is plastered across her face, where presumably a bullet grazed an elegant cheek bone. The officer is dark-skinned and dark-eyed. Despite the injuries, she's pretty, with a bearing that somehow makes her beautiful. Her SRI uniform reads Ltn. A. North. She relents to Owusu's question after a moment, smiling tiredly. "I was lucky, sir. I'm fine for light duty." She pauses, carefully composed as she adds: "Although my subordinates weren't." There's an obvious note of pain, there. But she shows no sign of wanting to make that explicit here and now.

"I know," Owusu says, voice filled with genuine concern. "But I'm glad to see you here, North." He sounds a bit more like himself as he adds: "I still expect that wedding invitation, after all."

Lieutenant North laughs in spite of herself. "Sir," she says, "after this? I'll have a hard time convincing her not to shoot you. Let alone have you at the wedding."

He grimaces. "Usually," he says, "I find this joke charming, because usually, I'm sure it is a joke."

"It usually is, sir," North says, in a long-suffering deadpan.

Owusu lets out something between a sigh and a laugh. "Don't get shot again, North. I'd miss you."

"Yes, sir."

"We can catch up later," he says. "I have to go meet with Commander Mendenz."

Lieutenant North watches him go, before turning her attention back to her duties. As she begins to do so, she catches sight of you loitering nearby, stops and stares. It takes you a moment to realise that she's not looking at you, specifically — Jay is floating behind you, apparently having been eavesdropping on the same happy reunion you were.

He stiffens noticeably as North angles her way toward the two of you. For all that he ostensibly risked his life for her team, Jay would rather not have to interact with anyone in that uniform, you strongly suspect.

"You're J21?" North asks. She stops short with a bit of trouble, but manages it with just the one hand. He's distinctive enough — there aren't that many artificial albinos with cybernetic ports grafted into them, on this or any ship.

"Jay Tham," he corrects. "I'm a man, not a number."

North blinks at that, but recovers fast enough. "Ah, my apologies," she says.

"This is Kana," Jay adds, pointedly including you in the conversation.

"Lieutenant Amani North, of the SRI," North says.

"Charmed," you say.

Jay is less friendly. "I know who you are." His expression is blank as he looks at her.

Oddly, North doesn't seem offended by this response, despite it having been on the offputting side of things by Jay's standards. He's on guard, emotions seemingly shut down entirely. She's smiling, though — softly, as if remembering something bittersweet. "I understand you put yourself in considerable risk for me and my team."

"I did," Jay says.

"Whatever the outcome, I want to thank you for making the attempt. I... understand that working alongside Special Reconnaissance & Intelligence might be difficult for you."

Jay looks at her, unblinking. "You understand," he repeats.

You glance from North to Jay, your own standard faintly amused smile hiding apprehension. You don't like the tension in Jay's shoulders. She's dancing around something that you wish she would come out and say already.

North takes a small breath, as if readying herself for something difficult. "I served with another J-Subject, while I was still with the Navy," North says, carefully.

That, neither of you were expecting. Jay looks at her, blinking once or twice, the only surprise he shows. "Twenty-Seven?" he guesses.

Amani blinks. "What? Ah, no."

He nods briskly. "... and not Thirty-Two, I hope."

"What's wrong with Thirty-Two?" you can't help but ask.

"What's wrong," he says, "is that she's a fucking psychopath." His flat delivery is enough to make you snort with laughter. Oddly, you think he might mean that in a fond way.

North's smile becomes a little strained. "No," she says. "I knew Guardswoman Second-Class J6. Of Her Imperial Majesty's Guard."

"Imperial Guard? It would suit her." Jay allows. "She was always the gold-star, windup toy-soldier." It's like with the mention of J32 — there's love in that phrasing, but you have the benefit of having heard him talk about J6 before.

You realise several things at one: Jay is thrilled to the point of distraction. Lieutenant North is offended. And most troubling, she's using past-tense. "She died," North says, stiffly.

That stops Jay short. "... what?"

"At the Battle of Titan. She helped shore up the rear-guard position. She was... overwhelmed."

Jay stares.

North seems to regret the abruptness of her explanation already, but it's not the sort of thing you can take back. "I'm sorry," North says. "She was brave until the end."

"'Brave.'" Jay's eyes flick pointedly to the SRI emblem on her uniform. Then he drags his gaze away, closes his eyes, and takes a deep breath, staying that way for a long moment.

"I only meant—"

"How?" he asks again, cutting her off.

"She was cut off and overwhelmed by enemy mecha," North repeats.

Jay shakes his head, a frustrated gesture. He's too worked up to express himself well. "No. How? Shot, spaced, blown up, cut in two, what was it?" There's a slight tremor going through his body, barely visible.

North averts her gaze. "Her mecha's interface was damaged, and it... overloaded her nervous system."

Whatever he was expecting, that was apparently worse. He gives a tiny flinch. Then, without a word, he turns and leaves: You watch him go.

"Delicately done, Lieutenant," you tell her.

"... It's been a very long day," she says, looking frustrated and abashed in equal measure. "She was a friend. I didn't like hearing her spoken about like that."

"She was his sister," you say. "Don't you talk shit about your siblings like that?"

"No," North says.

"What are you, an only child?"

Lieutenant North just looks at you, and takes in another small, steeling breath. Her lips are set again in that inoffensively pleasant smile again, the picture of an officer and a gentlewoman. "Miss... Kana—"

"Himegami," you interject. "You're trying to be formal right? It's Himegami."

North doesn't miss a beat. "Miss Himegami. It has been a very long day for both of us. I have funeral services to attend to, after I complete my task here. I wish you well, in recovering your own strength. We'll talk another time, perhaps." Then she's gone.

You get the feeling that Lieutenant North doesn't like you very much.

Left alone, you look in the direction that Jay went. It's hard to tell with him, whether or not he'd welcome any attempt to follow him. On the other hand, maybe he needs to be followed anyway. You're hardly averse to doing something people need from you

/////PoCS\\\\\

Article:

What do you do?

Top level votes will be counted before the second level. Please pick a second-level vote if you're voting for the second option.

[ ] Discreetly encourage Cam to check on him
[ ] Follow Jay
- [ ] ... just to listen
- [ ] ... to explain the misunderstanding
[ ] Give Jay space