As Witnesses to Allah [Original Mecha Quest]

Fatih II

The Kipling's Pilot's Canteen might not've been the nicest you've ever patronized, but it was sure as hell the most expensive. Nowhere to be seen were harsh plastics, alloys, and synthmaterials, here everything was made of wood and worked stone and hand-forged metal, most emblazoned with a crafter's mark. From the swinging doors to the food replicators to the benches, aesthetics, comfort, and common decency all gave way to an ostentatious display of the sheer money afforded to the Mech Corps. Printed goods were below the Pilots, anyone in this room who survived their tour of service would leave a rich man and no-one could be allowed to forget that.

The warm browns of the wooden walls were divided into thirty six alcoves, each hosting a food replicator. Thirty of the alcoves also bore an impromptu shrine, the name of a theatre the Kipling had served in, emblazoned well above head height, and a single piece of hand-made artwork from that theater. Here one of the demonic statues of Sirius VII, there a clean portrait of a dead pioneer from the Ganges Supercluster, and there beautiful calligraphy from Assad's Hope. Each was a memory of a campaign, battles won and lost, planets subjugated, regimes toppled, legends forged on the great frontier.

And, in the case of one, a legend yet to be formed. "Rubicon" is engraved above it in the same grand lettering as all the others, but no art yet graces the niche. You slide in, admiring the penmanship as you thumb through the replicator menu. All the Disney prices are up post-survey but you thumb to their specialty menu anyways. It's probably your last trip to the canteen before Rubicon, you might as well treat yourself.

You head to the tables, a picture-perfect platter of beef satay and mango juice in hand. There're a dozen pilots in the canteen, most juniors gathered around the centermost table. A steady chant of "Mouse, mouse, mouse!" rises from their ranks as you sit down. A moment later, a pair of old friends join you.

Hisham, well, Barber while you're in public, joined up with you after the clusterfuck that was the War for Q-5. Your first and fastest friend since you joined up, and your wingman for a time before you both started getting promotions. He has a cup of coffee in his hand, still steaming, and grins as you shake hands and exchange salaams.

Valiant's a stocky woman from the Tzu Shoals. Twitchy as anything, bit of a coward, and you're pretty sure she has a stim habit she's hiding, but she hit Ace-in-a-Day on her second mission and she's never bitched about her callsign so she's golden in your books. She's got an entire synthesized chicken in one hand and is tearing into it while Barber talks. You don't shake hands or greet each other and she prefers it that way.

"Kaifak brother?" asks Barber, "Got a full or a half?"

"Ah, appreciating the fruits of my opinions," you say, "Have a forty, might pull for a full if something looks worth it. And you?"

Barber nods in sympathy over short breaks and Survey Days. "I've been honored with doubles for a week, some extra money to send home." You wince in sympathy, double shifts suck and landing them because you called home too much is worse. "Lighter news, Echo Squadron's hazing Mouse. I was gonna take over but I think you've got ten minute's seniority."

"What're they hazing him over?" you ask, "He turn out married?"

Valiant chuckles at the possibility. Barber's a bit more amused. "You didn't hear?" says Barber, "Our little Disney Contractor's a clean slate. Didn't see any action in the Core."

Your eyes perk up. "We're bloodying Mouse at Rubicon?" you ask.

"Na'am, brother," replies Barber, "Turns out the only thing keeping you out was your ugly mug."

"Thazza big one though," says Valiant between mouthfuls. There's a pause as she waits for a reaction, the stutters her way through a follow up, "Cause, well, you're reaaaaal ugly, yeah?"

You wave her off and look over the crowd around the Kipling's only Disney contractor. Echo squadron's new, no-one there's been here more than two years, and you're technically in in front of Barber. Which means you get to be responsible for poor, Drunken Mouse for the next few hours.

You're definitely asking for a shift extension. Who cares if you're first into Rubicon, you're not passing up fucking with the new guy.

What are you gonna do to Mouse?

[ ] Put this poor bastard at the wheel of one of the Military Printers, see what sort of horrorshow his drunken mind plops out. Maybe let engineering in on the fun. Decent odds he makes a penis, better odds you can file it as his own, personal copyrighted content for all eternity.
[ ] He's a coreworlder. He's probably got media access you can't even dream of. You could watch stuff that came out last month! No, even better, you can watch stuff that came out today! Watch some movies on his budget.
[ ] Get him in the driver's seat of a shuttle and push it a few klicks from the ship. The actual pilot will be around to puppet the thing, but his reaction when he wakes up should be hilarious.