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

Tanner Station,
De Facto AIJ headquarters

Things have gotten very awkward with the Imperials very fast. They're not exactly handing out precise numbers, but the Imperial Guard lost at least one pilot in the attack, and now clearly feel that they took the brunt of the attack unnecessarily. The SRI, from what you can gather, merely continues to be concerned that your operation isn't nearly as competent as they might have hoped. Not a ringing endorsement from either of them, at the moment.

You do have some good news, however — the incident somehow galvanised the fragile link between the AIJ, the Shields of Jupiter, and the SSLF. It's temporary, likely, but all together, it's been enough for the delegations to consent to continuing more firmly within AIJ territory. Which is good enough for you — it means you'll be able to get a bit of rest at home.

The best part of which is finally having this fucking cast off, even if you get a twinge of pain every now and then for putting too much weight on the leg under gravity. For this reason, you're leaning heavily on your good side as you pound your fist against Jay's door. When it abruptly slides open, you manage to lean against the doorframe in a way that's halfway cool, instead of toppling into his quarters.

"I heard you the first time," he says. He glances down at the lack of a cast. "How's the leg?"

"Less like shit than it was before," you say, pushing past him without waiting to be invited, stepping into his space as though you own the place, which is just part of the dating-Himegami-Kana experience. "You told me to find you later." You'd talked more onboard the Garter Snake, of course, but things had been too busy for there to be much of a quiet moment for anything like what you needed.

Jay seals the door again. "Well, you found me," he agrees. He's a little taken aback when, the moment he turns around, you grab him by the shoulders, and kiss him hard on the mouth. He lets out a satisfying sound of surprise as his back hits the door, but he catches on quickly enough, one of his hands finding its way into your hair even as his other arm takes you around the waist. When you break apart, you're both breathing hard, and you rest your head against his shoulder almost sullenly.

"I fucking hate not being able to do anything while you're all fighting," you mutter.

He takes a moment to catch his breath and process this. "You... were worried. About me, too?"

Of course you had been — he's not invincible. "Maybe I would have just missed the sex."

He huffs an almost grudging little laugh, his grip on you tightening. You can tell he knows what you really meant.

After a while, you gather your thoughts, and carefully ask: "I know she didn't have any family left. But did she ever have anyone... special?"

"Cam had a lot of friends," Jay says, studying the ceiling tile as his hand idly strokes through your hair — you're wearing it down today. "She didn't do relationships, though. Or sex."

"That tracks," you say, thinking back to various interactions with her. You've met people who just weren't interested before, but even by those standards, she'd been awkward about the whole topic. "How do you feel?" you ask him.

"Right now?" he says. "A little better. In general, though... like I'm going to watch everyone else die. Like I'm going to be the last one left."

You lift your head off of his shoulder enough to give him a half-hearted glare. "The world doesn't actually revolve around you, Tham. I plan on living to at least a hundred, just out of spite."

"You would do that," he agrees, as if that answers that. Sometimes, it's still nice to pretend.

"We'll just have to work on keeping everyone else safe too," you add, voice quiet.

Jay lets out a tiny, quiet sigh. "That's the trick." After a moment, he says: "I wish I'd gotten to introduce Cam to Thir— Agnieszka."

You ignore the near slipup. "Cam would have found her terrifying," you point out.

"Yes," Jay admits. "But... still."

It occurs to you, not for the first time, that unlikely as it might seem... Cam had been the closest thing Jay had to a best friend. This time, the thought gives you another fresh pang for her, and for him. "What's it been like having your sister here?" you ask, changing the subject slightly.

"Strange," he says, shrugging. "I... don't know that I like Grangier."

"They can't keep their hands off each other," you point out.

"Yes," he says, disgruntled. "It's... not like my sister."

"She seems to like it," you say, carefully.

He gives a skeptical "hm" sound. "I'm the one watching them, sometimes," he says. "Guard duty, essentially." You suspect that Agnieszka is more a danger to any other given person on this station than the other way around, but he certainly doesn't need you to point that out to him.

"I'm not surprised."

"Grangier wants you to come 'keep me company' while I'm over there, sometime," he says. "I'm not sure why."

"Do you want me there?" you ask.

Jay thinks about it for a moment. "Yes," he says.

"Well," you say, "I suppose I can pencil you in, then."

/////PoCS\\\\\

Cam's funeral is, somehow, even more depressing than you'd thought it would be. Everyone liked Cam, even if they didn't know her that well. It's a grim affair, setting what's left of her to rest in a spacer's funeral — you'd waited until you were back here for Ryan's sake, and for the other friends she'd had back on Tanner. It's a draining affair that feels far longer than it really is.

You're almost dreading what comes after, because it will be a reminder of just how few of you there are left. But you and the other pilots find an empty docking bay, and you supply a large pouch of peach vodka.

The losses aren't the only change that's obvious: Azara has opted to wrap her arms around Kitty instead of hanging onto a proper handhold. You and Jay aren't being that obnoxious, but you're closer to him than you are to your own squad, between Jay and Ryan in your extremely theoretical circle. Ryan doesn't seem to mind, precisely, but it does make him look even more tired and alone than he already is.

"Hey," says a new voice.

You all look up as a tall, red-haired woman drifts into the chamber, giving you all a bit of a weak smile.

"Private affair, Price," you tell her, giving her your most withering fuck off look.

"No, I invited her," Ryan says, running his free hand over his face. He really does look like he hasn't slept in days. "She's being reassigned to the Esther Strova. So... she's one of us. And she knew Cam."

Kitty nods slowly, and Azara doesn't object. You almost do, until Jay says, quietly, "There will actually be enough of us for a proper circle this way, Kana."

You force yourself to untense, shoving the alcohol into his hands, even though he's the only one of you who won't be touching it. "Right. Since those two are fouling up the shape." You gesture at Azara and Kitty, who look completely unrepentant.

Shae relaxes, gliding over to catch herself short on a handhold in the rough gap between Ryan and Kitty.

Jay studies the label on the vodka packaging before he breaks the silence, before he goes first: "Cam was... the first real friend I ever had outside my sisters. Before my first squad, or Kana, or... anyone." For a moment, you're worried he's really going to take a drink, dangerous combination with his drugs or not. But he keeps talking after a minute or so instead. "They'd just managed to put the Hecate together. It was a bit of a mess — I had to do a lot of the maintenance myself, even then. She just showed up, started talking to me. I was never friendly, but she just kept coming. Helped, eventually. I didn't know how much I needed people, before that." He passes the pouch to Azara, who stretches an arm out to catch it out of the air.

"Cam had that shy, innocent girl thing going on," Azara says, already snapping the seal on the pouch. "You know what I mean. No matter how many people she shot or we had to bury, she was still just... so harmless-looking. Absolutely cleaned me out the couple times I got her to put up any money for a game, though." There's no indication she resents this — even now, Azara actually seems impressed at the memory. She doesn't seem to know how to finish this, and so she just takes a gulp, and hands it over the incredibly short distance to Kitty.

Kitty takes a moment or two longer to find her thoughts than Azara had, staring more into the middle distance than at anything in particular. "She could have stayed here," she says, finally. "Been a mechanic. R&D always wanted her — but she turned it down, because she said we needed pilots. We needed pilots." She looks around at your group. "I'm going to try not to forget that she died for that." Then she takes just as generous a drink as Azara had, and passes the pouch to Shae.

Shae is clearly nervous, looking around at you all for a long, quiet moment. "First time I met her, I'd just broken my squad leaders' tablet — he'd lent it to me, and fifteen minutes later... I'd fucked it, somehow. So, I was panicking a little in a docking bay like this one, and this woman just... takes it out of my hands, has the tools to open it up right there on her, and she does something. And it works again." Shae takes a long, grateful swig, although she's unable to repress a face at the sugary sweet flavour. "I'm glad I fought with her, even if it was just the once." Then she hands it off to Ryan.

Ryan takes in a deep breath, like he's been bracing himself for this. It takes him almost a minute before he can make himself speak. "She was awful to watch anything with. Just... the worst. Nitpicking about historical accuracy, about what model of gun or ship was onscreen for five seconds, making fun of the dialogue if it wasn't absolutely naturalistic." He stops there, gripping the pouch so hard you're worried it will burst. "And before she left... She gave Audrey this little toy spaceship. Same model as what she says... same as the one that should have been in the last movie we—" He squeezes his eyes shut, taking in a long, ragged breath, as if waging an inner battle with himself. He loses. Letting go of the vodka and the handhold both, he buries his face in both hands, and lets himself drift as the tears start.

Before he can go too far, Jay manages to put an arm around him, and Ryan doesn't resist as he's drawn in against Jay's slight, stoic form.

The vodka goes at a trajectory that you're close enough to intercept, at least. Glancing at Ryan, you only offer a few quiet words, very aware of the piece of salvaged metal hanging off your bracelet. "She was a good friend." Then you take a long, deep drink. The burning sweetness of it as it hits your palate is exactly what you need.

Jay ends up taking care of Ryan, silently signalling for you to go on ahead. Shae has some paperwork to go over with Captain Leski. That just leaves you and your squad, with only one goal between the three of you: Get drunker. To this end, you find yourselves back in gravity, in a side room at Section Ten, making up for all the alcohol you couldn't have while you were on painkillers.

You swallow a mouthful of sugary cooler, and scowl at your squadmates. "Can you try to restrain yourselves for at least a few minutes?" you ask.

Azara breaks off the kiss she's in the midst of, grinning at you. She's practically in Kitty's lap at this point, a drink in one hand, the other wrapped around Kitty's shoulders. "Oh, lighten up, Pirate," she says. She waits a moment — coincidentally long enough for Kitty to take a sip of her drink — before she adds: "You could always just join in."

Kitty chokes, spitting cocktail all over the floor. You just give a snort, derisively amused. "You aren't nearly drunk enough for that to be charming instead of just creepy, Azara." This is a lie: It's fairly hilarious.

Azara shrugs. "Well, standing offer!" she says.

"Sadly, I think my boyfriend might object," you say. In addition to the far more pertinent issue of you not being attracted to women.

Azara narrows her one eye at you. "See, that? Holding out on us! You never said it was serious!"

You examine your fingernails — they're in need of a trim, actually, so it's not just an affectation for once. "Black, I've never been serious about a boyfriend in my life. You know this."

"Oh, Sol, you are serious about him," Azara says, finishing her drink.

"How can you possibly tell that?" Kitty asks.

"She's not saying no," Azara explains, "and also she's all like 'hey, look at me, I'm a cold and snarky badgirl who no one gets close to, I go through men like vape cartridges and I can't even spell love!' That's Pirate for 'yes.'"

You glower menacingly over the rim of your glass. "You know, we're in gravity. I can still throw this drink on you." Your expression only succeeds in setting Azara to laughing uncontrollably, putting her drink down so she can clutch at Kitty with both hands. That's fine, honestly — people process grief differently, and all three of you are here to distract yourselves. Some people need quiet, dignified introspection. Azara needs to get drunk and laugh a little too loudly at things that weren't that funny, and make out with her girlfriend like they might both be dead tomorrow..

"How did you two even happen?" Kitty asks. She's enjoying Azara's mirth, even if she's not joining in on it herself.

You shrug. "Well, he kissed me, and I didn't stop him."

Kitty raises her eyebrows. "That's it?"

"He's a good kisser," you say, with absolutely no inclination to get into the messy details of that incident.

Azara, who's just gotten ahold of herself, manages to ask: "Any good in bed, though?"

"Well, I've had a lot worse," you allow.

Kitty, lip twitching with suppressed laughter, pinches the bridge of her nose, eyes squeezed shut. "You know, I was worried that Kana was going to be a third wheel here. That's not really how I feel at this point."

You smile sweetly. "You know me — I live to exceed all your wildest expectations."

"The worst part is that I don't think you're even wrong," Kitty complains, rolling your eyes.

This time, you do laugh. When it ends, the three of you drift off into companionable silence — the kind with a lot of drinking in it.

Eventually, without much warning Azara sits up, holding her nearly empty bottle up. "To Cam," she says, words already slurring. "And... everyone."

You all drink to that.

/////PoCS\\\\\

There is a kind of person who doesn't get hangovers. Those people, you're absolutely certain, deserve to all be rounded up and summarily shot.

You wake up with a savage, pounding headache, and a mouth that tastes like death, and at first, it's all you can do to get up and slug down some painkiller tablets — the normal kind, not the ones you'd been on previously.

It's around then that a message shrills from your comm unit, cutting through the relative silence with merciless cruelty, like someone driving a knife right into each of your eyes. Fuck — is there something you forgot? Are you late for something? Your bleary vision can't immediately make out who the call's from, so you just accept.

"Himegami?" the voice asks.

"Speaking," you say, trying not to sound too furious. "Am I supposed to be somewhere?"

"Not that I'm aware of," the voice says. "Are you alright?"

"I am fabulous," you say, which is in the running for the most outrageous lie you've ever told. And it's stiff competition for that spot. "Why are you calling at—" you register the station time: 1035. "... this objectively reasonable hour?"

"Are you available to come down to the jail?"

You blink, trying to process that. "Did I do something?"

"No," the person on the other end of the line says, "One of the prisoners wants to talk to you."

Oh. Shit. You ask the first question that comes to mind: "Which one?"

Once the call ends, you make yourself presentable enough to stagger, zombielike, out of your quarters and find your way around the ring to the nearest transfer shaft. Despite having nothing in your stomach, you're not looking forward to combining your hangover with zero-gravity, but you don't have much of a choice.

Have they really not rehoused any of the prisoners yet? It seems a little cruel to keep them cooped up in a zero-g cell this entire time.

At the very least, you don't need to bribe this guard, since you've got actual business being here. Still, he looks at the state you're in, smirks, and asks: "Fun night, last night?"

You almost wish you'd throw up on him. "Buried my friend," you tell him instead, and you take a small, vicious amount of pleasure in his mortified grimace and muttered apologies.

It's not so long before you find yourself at your ultimate destination — an interrogation room that might just be a meeting room, most of the time, across from one of the prisoners. It's the first time you've actually been in the same room as her, with nothing separating you.

"Did you miss me that much?" you ask, trying your hardest to ignore the coffee pouch she's sipping from. You can't smell it, but you can imagine the scent, and even that much hits your stomach like a load of bricks.

Naiya Beryl doesn't dignify that with a response. "You look like shit," she tells you.

"And yet, I'm not chained to anything right now," you say, noting her leg cuffed to the base of the table surface. "Why am I here, exactly?"

She lets out a small laugh, then takes a sip of coffee, as if she resents giving you even that much. "Does... everyone know? About what you used to be, I mean."

Oh. This is going to be a girl-to-girl talk between dubiously reformed pirates, then. "Yes," you tell her.

"And... how do they treat you here?" She studies you intently, clearly wary of you, but not exactly having anyone else to turn to.

You think about that. It's a more complicated question than it should be. "Some of them are dicks about it," you decide. "I'm not the easiest person to like at the best of times, of course." Naiya snorts, as if this isn't something that needs to be pointed out. You ignore her as you carry on. "Enough aren't, though. And we have plenty of former Divine Navy here, too, if that's your next question. Most of us had lives before the AIJ, and they weren't all very glamorous or heroic."

Naiya frowns hard, taking a long, slow sip of the coffee. "So... you really believe in this? What you're doing here?"

A dozen dismissive or snide comments drift through your head. Fighting all your instincts, you ignore each in turn. "Yes. Some days, anyway. It's a good way to end up dead, though, turns out."

Naiya seems unphased by this last, her dark brows not furrowing any further than they already were. "I... miss things meaning anything, sometimes," she says. Then after a pause, she adds: "They've asked me to join up. Offered me a job, I guess."

"I wouldn't hate it if you said yes," you say. Which is not quite admitting that you like her, but she should hopefully get the idea.

Naiya actually twitches a smile at that. "Maybe I wouldn't either."

On your way out, you're left to marvel that, somehow, you hadn't messed any of that up. You actually think you've managed to talk a prisoner around into becoming a pilot, even if it's taken you a while.

"So, what happened to the kid?" you ask the guard.

He shrugs. "She's helping R&D with some big project, so they moved her somewhere nicer for cooperating."

"Still keeping an eye on her, I hope," you say, frowning a little.

The guard shrugs again. "She's pretty harmless without that mecha. I've got a daughter older than her, for fuck's sake. It's nothing we can't handle."

You have a vivid memory of being in the cockpit while she slaughtered a third of your ship's pilots. You open your mouth to argue with him, when a raised voice grabs your attention.

"Do you expect me to beg? Is that it? Is that why you're here, you fucking traitor?"

The guard makes a beeline down the shaft toward the open hatch the noise is coming from. You, being incurably nosy, glance. You're greeted by the sight of Su Limin, still here, apparently, alone in a cell, screaming at someone who has apparently come to visit her. "That's it, right? Because you just fucking hate me this much, right?"

Guard-Lieutenant Mosi North lets out a sigh. The bright shades of her Imperial Guard uniform look almost drab here in this space. "I don't hate you, Su," she tells her, mostly just sounding weary. "We were all kids. And... I know what I am, and what I did. You can't--"

That's all you hear before the guard shuts the hatch, blocking off the argument. And sending another spike of pain through your head. Which is incredibly frustrating, of course — that sounded like it was getting good.

Still, at this point, you have enough time to go home, shut off all the lights, and do absolutely nothing until you have to go out again later.

/////PoCS\\\\\

"Rough night?" Jay asks.

You can't entirely suppress a smile at his dry tone. "Shut up," you say, coming to a stop beside him. You're both in a habitation ring usually reserved for administrative functions — apparently, one of those functions is housing strange but important guests away from the eyes of the rest of the station. "Why does she want me here?" you ask.

"I wasn't sure," Jay admitted, "I was just glad for the excuse to have you along, honestly. It's... awkward, after a while." He pauses for a moment, his hand on the door. Then he admits: "I'm starting to worry this is a double date."

You think back with a certain degree of dread. "Grangier mentioned that, but I thought she was joking." You massage a temple. "Does she know that double agents committing treason are supposed to be serious about it?"

He shrugs. "I think she is being serious. Which is worse."

It's a pretty normal set of Tanner Station living quarters, which feels off, a little, knowing who Arianne Grangier is. She seems perfectly comfortable, however, high noble or not, laying out several portions of something that, admittedly, smells delicious — you haven't eaten all day on the off chance that it might come back up, but by this point, you might be willing to chance it.

"Goulash?" you ask, looking at it questioningly.

"I asked for some ingredients, and they gave them to me," Arianne says, grinning. That sweater and skirt combo she's got on would be pretty impractical for switching between gravities, but it makes her look halfway like a normal person, rather than the richest rich girl you've ever met. "I'm not the best cook, but I think this turned out alright! " You glance around the small space — living area, conspicuously-singular bed, and, sure enough, kitchenette. A lot of these units don't have one. Station fires can be catastrophic, and they're easier to control with a handful of communal kitchens, rather than everyone having their own to burn the place down with.

"Nieszka's had this recipe before, and I've taken out anything that she's allergic to," Arianne adds to Jay. "I don't know if it will be okay for you."

Jay studies it for a lingering moment, consideringly. "Yours were always a little worse than mine," Agnieszka says, speaking up for the first time. She's standing nearby, arms crossed, looking between you all with an impassive expression.

"Well, there's enough of you to carry me to a doctor if I take it badly," Jay says. Which you take to mean that he's not particularly concerned.

"Are you sure? You've put on a lot of muscle since the last time," Agnieszka says. She's still not approaching the rest of you, but you think that this is teasing, somehow. It's impossible to tell.

Jay just rolls his eyes. "I'm supposed to be keeping an eye on you, not eating with you," he says, seemingly just to get it out of the way.

"You can do both," you tell him. Because you really are starving, even if it's liable to be intensely bland. "I'll help."

Arianne smiles. "I'm so glad you made it," she says. Beside her, Agnieszka expresses absolutely none of her enthusiasm for your presence, unfolding herself from the wall and coming over to sit beside Arianne at last.

Once you're all seated, you take a mouthful of hot goulash. Which, true to your expectations, tastes exactly like it was made by a duchess's daughter dabbling in cooking with an incomplete list of ingredients. You're not exactly hard to please at this point, however.

"Where are you from, by the way?" Arianne asks you, taking you by surprise.

You swallow a mouthful of food before answering. "Troy. A... different neighbourhood than you, though, I expect." You make a downward gesture with your fork, indicating just how far below the surface your family had been.

She laughs at this, seemingly delighting in your weak joke, rather than taking offence at the class difference being stressed. "Well, probably!" she agrees. "I was born on Earth, of course, but I basically grew up on Ganymede, so it is what feels most like home now."

You can't help but be interested. "What was it like?"

"Oh, Earth?" Arianne thinks for a moment, crunching away at a mouthful before swallowing, and answering. "... Heavy. And big -- you can just keep walking forever, if you want."

Well, she had been very young. "Do you miss that at all?"

"Well, I was very young," she says airily, unknowingly echoing your thoughts. "And, besides that, Nieszka wouldn't be able to go with me."

Agnieszka frowns very slightly. Like her brother, she does it mostly with her eyes. "You... you shouldn't... you shouldn't give things up just for me."

Arianne, heedless of you and Jay being right fucking there, takes Agnieszka's hand in both of hers, and plants a kiss along its delicate knuckles. "Who else is worth giving them up for?" she asks.

Agnieszka looks away, as though embarrassed, but certainly isn't pulling her hand away.

You take a gulp of your drink, wishing intensely that it were alcoholic, hangover or no. You cannot deal with this shit sober. The sheer sincerity of it is triggering your fight or flight instincts. Honestly, you liked it better when Agnieszka was contemplating your murder. Jay's stiff-backed discomfort beside you is a comfort, at least — you're not suffering alone.

Eventually, Arianne does let her hand go, and they both get back to eating. Agnieszka, of all people, breaks the silence next. "How did you even end up here?" she asks, glancing up at Jay. She pushes some hair out of her face — she has a lot of it, now that you've seen it down. It seems terribly inconvenient for life in space, but you do admit that it makes for a striking visual.

"I fell through the cracks of the Empire's system as early as I could manage," he says. He doesn't seem troubled by the memory, as much as it can't have been pleasant. "Found the AIJ before my meds ran out. They've kept me healthy ever since."

Agnieszka's reply is succinct: "Risky."

"Well, I'm not going to live forever anyway," Jay says, waving off the implied concern. He gives Agnieszka a searching look, as if silently returning the question.

You find yourself exchanging a look with Arianne — it's a little bizarre, seeing the two of them talk. Jay's at least more expressive than she is, but it's not by much. Arianne seems charmed by it, though, a small smile tugging at her lips.

"Lady Arianne knew me... before the project," Agnieszka admits.

Jay does a slow blink. "How?"

"From when we were children," Arianne says. "They must have taken her... by accident. It's one of the reasons anyone found you at all." There's a certain awkwardness about her as she reveals this.

"Because they picked someone anyone would miss, I suppose," he says. Which is close enough to true that Arianne doesn't try to refute it. He looks back to Agnieszka. "You have a birth family, then? Nobles?"

"Dead," Agnieszka says. "Holy Empire purge years ago. I barely remembered anything from before anyway, so I didn't actually know them. Kept the name, though."

"Well," Jay says, nudging his food thoughtfully, like he's trying to think of what's best to say, "it's a good name."

Agnieszka nods. "When did you find out about Six?" she asks.

"Not long ago," Jay says. "An SRI lieutenant was at Titan, and says she knew her. She told me."

"The same one you wanted to maim," you tell Agnieszka.

Agnieszka twitches a tiny smile at that. The expression actually makes your blood run cold. "Only maim?" she asks.

Arianne sighs, and squeezes her arm. "Be nice, Nieszka. We didn't bring her here to terrify her." With a sigh, Agnieszka seems to relent, the ineffable promise of death somehow leaving her narrow frame.

Jay stops and stares for a lingering second. "You... really reign yourself in for her," he says.

"Yes," Agnieszka agrees. "It's good someone can get me to." Arianne responds to this by nestling in against her, generally pleased with life and the world.

Honestly, these two are going to give you diabetes, at this rate.

/////PoCS\\\\\

"If we're ever that lovey dovey in public, I need you to shoot me," you say, giving Jay a plaintive look. The two of you are back out in the ring's main passageway, no one else in sight. He's officially been relieved, although his replacement is staying across the hall, you gather.

"Only if you do me at the same time," Jay mutters.

"It's a promise," you say. With an ironic sort of grin, you wrap your arms around his arm. "Don't worry," you say, "I'm awful at this sort of shit."

"You manage," he says, before kissing you.

How can things be this good, so soon after being so awful? You have to admit, it makes you feel nervous. Like something's about to go very, very wrong. But... hopefully not tonight.

Article:

Before your departure from Tanner, Cam managed to do what she promised about getting Kana something particularly well suited to her needs, even if it's based on an old Lancer — Kana will get a chance to look at it in the next update, and will officially have a mecha again.

As per Kana's general preferences, the Lancer has more anti-ship ordinance than normal, as well as being generally hardened, using some spare armour from the wreckage of Kana's Pennant. What else is unique about this unit?

[ ] Increased melee performance
[ ] Increased acceleration
[ ] Increased long-range firepower