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‘I thought I saw you come in here.’

You could recognize that voice anywhere.

A hand in one pocket, dead eyes and luxurious brown locks … stood Emilio Reinweld, his features as crusty as you remember. To your surprise, however … he had foregone his usual conservative sense of style for an ornate suit, complete with what you recognize to be an abstract design of House Reinweld’s crest, stretching from the shoulders of said suit to the front panel and spreading all the way to the quarters.

‘Sansa,’ he greets, adjusting his gaze. ‘Instructor Fisher.’

>Write-In

>>3909549
>>Write-In
"Emilio! At last, someone to balance out the estrogen. Did you know I got misidentified as you, *again*."

>>3909608
>supporting

>>3909608
this

>>3909608
>this

Since there are more people around, I'll be running in about 15 minutes.

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‘Thanks the stars, Reinweld,’ you cry out in as exaggerated a manner as you’re able to muster. ‘I was wondering how I’d balance out the ratio. You’re as good a place to start as the next!’

He snorts, unamused. ‘I choose to take that as an observer’s perspective.’

As he approaches your group, a stray recollection makes its way to the fore of your thoughts.

‘Oh, right … someone mistook me for you … again,’ you reveal, remembering the incident not an hour prior. ‘Amazing, isn’t it?’

‘Undoubtedly,’ Reinweld concurs, nodding as he places his hands behind his back. ‘I am many things, but you I am thankful I am not. Bless fate, chance and all aspects wrong and right with this universe for that luxury.’

The three girls look away, trying their marked best to conceal their amusement … to no avail. Rather than rise to the effortless insult, however, you decide to be the better man … and let it slide. You weren’t about to be drawn into some petty back-and-forth with Reinweld; certainly not like the last thousand or so encounters that you’d had with him. No, tonight would be your last night together (hopefully) as … friends and for everyone else’s sake, you didn’t want to escalate the situation any more than you wanted another hug from Muad’Dib.

‘Indeed,’ you laugh, prompting him to cock a curious eyebrow. ‘So is there a reason that you sought me out or are we just going through the motions before falling into our usual routine?’

He doesn’t reply; at least not immediately.

‘I think I can manage being civil for the next few hours,’ Reinweld throws back, his voice neutral but his lips forming a tell-tale curve. ‘If only to satisfy certain curiosities before we part ways.’

He nods at Sansa, then to Fisher.

‘Shall we get a seat?’

You manage to find a booth for six by the window overlooking the festivities outside. You and Emilio are squeezed up against the wall by the time the waiter—a surprisingly recent model of a drone assistant—hovers in, inquire you of your orders. Sansa and Emilio are the only ones to order anything … and Emilio the only one to request a plate of food.

‘You’ve been here before?’ you inquire as the assistant hovers away, clicking and whirring as it hovers away from your table, taking up a spot in the back of the restaurant and shifting into an idle state.

‘Twice,’ Emilio replies, taking a seat back.

‘Anything … good?’

He actually manages to look thoughtful, if only for a moment. To your right, the three girls enter their own brand of chatter, with Fisher inquiring about Rosaria’s own origins as the jump-off point. Your attentions, however, are firmly fixed upon your fellow Scion.

‘Nothing that stands out,’ he admits. ‘At least … not for us.’

>>3909892
>‘It’s comments like that that has the masses wondering about us, you know.’ (Dissatisfied)
>‘Like us? You finally tolerating your heritage, Reinweld?’ (Bemused)
>‘Good to know. Not as if I’m planning on coming back here, but … good to know.’ (Nonchalant)
>‘So what’s the emergency? You usually don’t come looking for me unless you really have to.’ (Direct)
>Write-In

>>3909893
>>‘Like us? You finally tolerating your heritage, Reinweld?’ (Bemused)

>>3909893
>‘It’s comments like that that has the masses wondering about us, you know.’ (Dissatisfied)

>>3909893
>‘Like us? You finally tolerating your heritage, Reinweld?’ (Bemused)

>>3909893
>>‘Like us? You finally tolerating your heritage, Reinweld?’ (Bemused)

>>3909893
>‘So what’s the emergency? You usually don’t come looking for me unless you really have to.’ (Direct)

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‘Like us?’ you let out, leaning over as you allow your amusement to spill forth. ‘This is a surprising turn of events. You’re finally learning to tolerate your heritage.’

He actually managed to look offended at your statement.

‘Nothing of the sort,’ the Reinweld Scion protests, pushing against the edge of the table and sitting upright, as if repulsed by the very insinuation of your words. ‘I’m merely saying that with the things that we’ve experienced, you can hardly say that anything here could count as one that’s notable enough to commit to memory.’

You raise a playful finger, jabbing it in his direction as your smile turns coy.

‘You know, you talk about how you wish you could be anything but the Scion of your house, but in all the years that we shared this mutual acquaintance, I can’t help but think that despite everything you say and all the ideals in that basket that you call your head, you’re probably the closest thing to a model Scion that we’ve had in the last hundred years.’

Emilio actually looks like he’s about to throw up.

‘You couldn’t engineer a more obvious insult.’

The tell-tale hum of a minor mass effect drive hits your ears: the orders had arrived.

‘Give me an hour.’

Emilio digs into what resembles a moderately-sized fish that is overstuffed and serving as the meat between two halves of bread, decorated by genetically-modified atmosphere-friendly pineapples and greens. Despite his rather dainty lips, the chunks that he bites out of the sandwich are rather large … and he appears to have little concern for the images that others project upon him as he addresses his meal like a predator would a fresh carcass.

Not that he would care, of course.

‘How is it?’

Emilio, at the least, has the courtesy to swallow before addressing your question. You’re not quite sure what tabloids would enjoy knowing that their so-called heart-throb was such a messy eater. You weren’t even aware that his mouth could stretch that wide.

‘Soggy,’ he comments, taking a brief pause before continuing, ‘but can’t complain. Better than the finger food they’re serving outside, though, definitely.’

You don’t miss the flat look Sansa briefly throws his way before going back to her own conversation.

‘Is that elitism I hear?’

‘It’s an observation,’ he clarifies, briefly turning to Sansa. ‘Not that I’m not … thankful for all the effort, of course.’

Sansa gives him a small thumbs up before returning to her own conversation triangle. Fisher and Rosaria debating the ethics of de-commissioned hardware re-sales based on recency of manufacturing from their end of the table, now, trying to reach a mutual point of agreement and—from what you’d caught thus far—being unsuccessful in their endeavour. The both of them appeared to be very much engaged in the topic, though, definitely.

>>3909967
‘Eh, I’m actually on your side,’ you let out, lowering your voice into a conspiratorial whisper. ‘It looks very basic—’

A slight wince escapes as you feel the impact of a heel to your shin … and shut your trap.

‘But my experience with you tells me that finger food isn’t so important to you that it’s something that you’d go out of your way to use me as your personal sounding board.’

Emilio places his elbows on the table, a small smirk playing on his lips.

‘You value yourself much too highly.’

>Laugh at the snipe (Let it roll off you)
>Cock a silent, accusatory eyebrow (Offended)
>‘Really?’ (Unamused)
>‘Some things take more than five years to wring out …’ (Nonchalant)
>Write-In

>>3909974
>Laugh at the snipe (Let it roll off you)

>>3909974
>>Laugh at the snipe (Let it roll off you)

>>3909974
>Laugh at the snipe (Let it roll off you)

>>3909974
>>Laugh at the snipe (Let it roll off you)
"When its all done, I'm really gonna miss you too after we split."

>>3910766
this

My sister just got engaged, so I had a busy weekend. I'll be running in about ... 8 hours? Get some rest and I'll be back by then.

>>3917620
Congrats!

>>3917620
hype

>>3917688
>>3917955
Thank you, I'll be running in approximately 30-40 minutes. Now that most of the drama is gone from my life I should have a more consistent schedule. The racism of my aunts and mother aside, of course ...

Once upon a time, you would have frothed at the mouth and denounced him in return. In fact, given your past interactions you wouldn’t have put it past yourself to have done so this morning, but tonight … well, twelve hours could change a man. If you weren’t a believer in that before, you truly are one now. So … you laugh.

‘Probably,’ you reply, running a hand through your hair.

You’re rewarded by a quizzical look from the only man on the planet you could formally call your peer, loathsome as it is to sometimes admit.

‘What?’ you inquire, wondering what underlying questions had found themselves nestled in those creases upon his brow.

For the first time in the last five years of your … acquaintanceship, the only other Scion on the planet looks away, as though embarrassed he had been pounced on with one word on the wrong foot. It’s actually quite the surprising take, seeing him like this (although not quite an unwelcome one) … but much to your own surprise, you don’t find yourself revelling at the advantage as you would have before.

Twelve hours really could change a man.

You wonder if it had anything to do with the fact that you weren’t a virgin anymore.

In all likelihood … probably.

‘Nothing,’ he answers, albeit with a hesitance once alien to one such as him. ‘It’s just … I’m worried.’

‘You?’ you practically scoff, leaning back into your chair. ‘About what?’

He hesitates again, before leaning in and setting his elbows upon the table, lowering his voice into a conspiratorial whisper.

‘Everything.’

>‘You have to be more specific.’
>‘First time for everything.’
>‘Wedding night jitters?’
>Write-In

>>3918728
Ah, fuck. I forgot:
>‘You have to be more specific.’ (Dryly)
>‘First time for everything.’ (Sarcastic)
>‘Wedding night jitters?’ (Joking)
>Write-In

>>3918731
>Where do you want to start? Probability of war, possibility of a conspiracy, navigator training privatization, number of female graduates on maternity leave in 9 months, my relationships, your relationships or the fact that Ryosuke's chance of having a relationship with a female is above 50%?

>>3918748
>number of female graduates on maternity leave in 9 months
This is actually pretty funny because it's true.

>>3918748
+1

>>3918731
>>3918748
supporting this.

Wait we aren't a virgin any more since when?

We only went to third base?

‘So, is there a place that you’d like to begin?’ you inquire, your tone taking a slightly playful veneer. ‘The threat of war? The whispers of conspiracy? That navigator training is being privatized by institutions and corporations to create a niche for the elite? The number of graduates that are probably going to find themselves with a bundle of absolute joy in their arms? Your marital life and relationship with your House? My alleged inexperience with the female persuasion? Or are we just going to pretend that a certain former street urchin that is a mutual acquaintance of ours isn’t outside and about to break his streak?’

‘As much as I’d like to talk about that last one’—and he genuinely does—‘I’m actually worried about what the increased cash flow of the war economy and how it’d—’

You smirk.

It’s enough to prompt him to scowl. Emilio clicks his tongue, looking away.

‘Please, go on,’ you encourage, shoulders quaking from suppressing your laughter, amused by the irony of it all. ‘It’s really nice seeing you finally settling into the role of Scion after all these years.’

Emilio sighs. ‘I’m just … aren’t the implications of it all of any concern to you?’

‘Of course,’ you answer, not missing a beat. ‘It’s part and parcel of our standing to be aware of what the implications … imply, so to speak. I appreciate that you’re finally coming around to that particular scope of our birthright.’

‘Then war is on the horizon,’ he declares solemnly.

>‘I wouldn’t go that far.’ (Hesitant)
>‘Absolutely not. The economic blocks aren’t in place for us to initiate a full-scale offensive for a sustainable or successful length. It’s not just about who has more bullets or more men.’ (Background: Scion, Economy)
>‘I won’t say that there aren’t interested parties who would welcome it, if only to bump themselves up on the ladder. I’m sure your House wouldn’t put a vote for it, though.’ (Background: Scion, Political)
>‘Perhaps … but we have a buffer of a few years, at least.’ (Acceptance)
>‘Must you be so … sombre?’ (Exasperated)
>Write-In

>>3918816
>>‘I won’t say that there aren’t interested parties who would welcome it, if only to bump themselves up on the ladder. I’m sure your House wouldn’t put a vote for it, though.’ (Background: Scion, Political)

>>3918816
>‘Perhaps … but we have a buffer of a few years, at least.’ (Acceptance)

>>3918822
>>3918850
Flipping a coin. Coin flipped.

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‘I’m not going to declare there aren’t any interested parties who would welcome it, if only to bump their standing and influence within the Imperium,’ you admit, shrugging, before morphing your lips into a coy smirk and winking at Emilio. ‘Your House definitely wouldn’t be on that, though.’

‘How can you afford to be so casual about it?’

You roll your eyes, almost in disbelief.

‘If you bothered to fulfil your role to the House of Reinweld, you wouldn’t be so gloomy about it, either,’ you declare dryly. ‘To actually answer that question, it’s because I’ve been in that jumbled mess for too long and much too willingly to jump to any conclusion that dictates that there are extremes to take over grey areas that cover the myriad of motivations the parties involved are willing to take over going to war just for the sake of it. No one wants to fight a war when the economics of the situation are too costly … and especially when there’s nothing to gain in political leverage. You’re worrying about the likelihood of an initiation of conflict that has zero to little bearing because you’re worried of the physical signs instead of the underlying motivation of the conflict. As a Scion, you should be ashamed of yourself.’

Emilio snorts, brushing it off.

‘You think that’s a snipe against me at all?’

You frown, tenting your fingers.

‘It is in this case, yes,’ you answer, an edge in your voice. ‘You … are putting forth an inquiry with knowledge that you could and would have had if you so much as bothered to get your fingertips dirty. You were—you are—in a position to eschew ignorance in the matter and yet you’ve proclaimed a self-satisfaction in your so-called moral decency by shunning your birthright and are, as a result, have your panties in the proverbial jumble where you should know full well that there are no parties on our side with the industry or anything to gain by jumping the gun in such a manner that we would be victims rather than beneficiaries. Too little to gain for too much effort. There is almost zero clout that the Houses or the corporations stand to acquire in the event of a war. I’m not even talking about money yet.’

‘Weren’t we?’

You’re not sure if that was a retort, sarcasm or a genuine inquiry.

Nevertheless, you find yourself compelled to answer.

‘There are three brands that we subscribe to: economic strength, political influence and power. If there’s little to nothing to gain from the other two by draining one to the bone, then there’s no need to do it at all. Regardless of how you see yourself, I’m at least in the know enough that we operate on pragmatism, not on mere whims.’

‘Is that what you think?’

‘It’s what you should think. You’re House Reinweld’s Scion.’

And for the first time in what you can assume to be his life … he wilts.

>>3918871
>‘Just because you’re the Heir to trillions upon trillions and dozens of worlds and industries … doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to care, you know.’ (Friendship)
>‘You know, I never thought that I’d have to be talking down to you, of all people. You’re the embodiment of a model Scion despite your disloyalty … and here we are.’ (Condescending)
>‘By the Emperor, you can be so … urgh, sometimes you can be so you.’ (Exasperated)
>Stay silent
>Write-In

>>3918873
>>‘Just because you’re the Heir to trillions upon trillions and dozens of worlds and industries … doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to care, you know.’ (Friendship)

>>3918873
>‘Just because you’re the Heir to trillions upon trillions and dozens of worlds and industries … doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to care, you know.’ (Friendship)

>>3918873
>>‘Just because you’re the Heir to trillions upon trillions and dozens of worlds and industries … doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to care, you know.’ (Friendship)

>>3918873
>‘Just because you’re the Heir to trillions upon trillions and dozens of worlds and industries … doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to care, you know.’ (Friendship)

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‘Just because you’re an heir to thousands upon millions upon trillions in crowns and dozens of worlds and thousands of industrial centres doesn’t mean that you’re not allowed to care, you know?’ you impart, your voice more refined compared to the usual crude slingshots you afforded the man before you. ‘It’s not as if your House is going to be pushing you around once you get into the position of head, so why are you worried about having to carry the name of the Reinweld? It isn’t any concern of mine whether you despise them or worship them, speaking as your … peer …’

The word is still hard to come by. Nevertheless, you power on.

‘But you’ve been acting as though you’re consigned to a destiny that you can’t adapt and mould as your own,’ you sigh, a smidgen of disappointment and exasperation peeking through. ‘Really, it’s not as if you’re actually trapped.’

Emilio snorts, wearing a tight smile as he runs a hand through his brown locks.

‘It’s good to know that you’ve taken to your luxuries so comfortably.’

You almost have to bite back your instinctive retort. You wonder, absently, just how many times had you practiced restraint throughout the day.

‘We’ve had this exchange at least two hundred times by now … and I’ve never understood just why is it that you despise your circumstances so,’ you sigh again, staring at the flat surface of the table before lifting your gaze and meeting his stoic expression. ‘Perhaps I’m reading too much into it, but there has to be an actual, underlying logic as to why you’re so blatantly opposed to even the slightest bit of association.’

‘Because we’re nothing more than the proverbial vultures feasting on the carcass of a beast at any opportunity we’re given, that’s why,’ Emilio answers dispassionately. ‘You think I need more reason than that?’

You roll your eyes, irritation placing its roots upon your temple.

‘For me, you do,’ you let out, exasperated and … determined. ‘We are … friends, aren’t we? Despite our … unique attributes?’

‘Unfortunately.’

The sarcasm lightens the mood, if only slightly.

To your right, you find the chatter of your Mistresses slowly dispersing into its last syllables.

In all honesty, however … you find yourself bored.

‘So why, then? Is that really it? You have some … issue with the class divide between the Trade Houses and everyone else and you’re projecting that onto your whole existence?’

‘I suppose that the opposite would apply to you,’ he shoots right back, oddly emotional. ‘You don’t care that you’re just that much better off compared to the rest of the Imperium? Lording over the common folk like masters to cattle?’

Masters … to cattle?

>>3919203
>[Laugh at his ignorance and naivete] (Pride, Arrogance)*
>'Is that what you believe?' (Condescending, Irritation)
>'That is the narrowest perspective you could take on the matter. Is that what has been eating you from the inside? The guilt of your privilege?' (Scoff)
>'It does give me the occasional tickle.' (Indifferent)
>'Well, it's not something that I'd lord over.' (Concede slightly)
>Write-In

>>3919208
>>'Well, it's not something that I'd lord over.' (Concede slightly)
When you have power over folks it must be used wisely

>>3919208
>From how hard I saw Gerard's mother and father work, I would wish to be so responsible.

>>3919208
….Question, did you ever spend time with these so called "cattle" like I did with Gerard's family?

>>3919208
>'It does give me the occasional tickle.' (Indifferent)

>>3919208
>>3919216
This

>>3919203
>'That is the narrowest perspective you could take on the matter. Is that what has been eating you from the inside? The guilt of your privilege?' (Scoff)

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There’s a retort carved into your teeth … but you find your attempts at digging oddly hampered by actual consideration for Reinweld’s remark—no, odd doesn’t cut it. You never tried to consider anything Emilio had to say about your ilk as anything more than a denial of sense and sensibility in itself, so actually going through the motions in taking such a remark seriously were definitely odd. Even odder, however, is just what your thoughts swim through, pulling for an answer.

Some time ago, when your sanity was still unquestionably rigid, you would have questioned why it involved the smell of fresh-baked pancakes and smell of earth underneath untidy fingernails dressed upon fingers holding buckets of freshly-squeezed milk. Now …

Well, now …

‘Well, it’s not as if there aren’t a few things that those of our blood couldn’t learn,’ you chuckle, conceding the point slightly … and acquiring a most enjoyable look of surprise from the Scion across. ‘Seeing how the Jetdoms work so hard on the farm on such a consistent basis, I can only hope to be after my ascension to Head.’

‘You’re not picking up on the point at all.’

‘Probably not; I can’t say for sure,’ you shrug, leaning back as you watch Emilio take a sip from his glass. ‘I do know, though, that you’re building false assumptions based on position and power rather than the actual execution of those properties, attributes and responsibilities. You’ve been waxing for the five years I’ve known you about our place in the Imperium and how I’m part of some grand problem … but I’ve probably acclimatized and understood their perspectives better in that time than you’ve had complaining about the circumstances of your birth.’

He narrows his eyes, clearly displeased by your observation.

Still, you’d stretched him this far … another tug wouldn’t make a difference.

‘Your arrogance never ceases to surprise me.’

‘I don’t see you going around doing volunteer work for the city’s maintenance departments like Sansa does during our breaks,’ you accuse Emilio, jabbing a finger towards your exhibit prompting a swift kick from pony-tailed woman, clearly displeased that you’d brought her into your argument … and a glare that plainly tells you to start deescalating the conversation or that she would. ‘I can at least tell you that I worked for weeks on a hay bale, barrels and milk buckets to underline my appreciation. All you’ve done is grandstand and tell me that we’re somehow a bunch of sinners just because we own industries, economies and planets instead of understanding the element of responsibility that they come with. As things are, I’m probably more grounded than you are … and you trying to be all uppity—’

You wince as you feel two points of impact upon your shin.

Sansa Wilmots smiles dangerously.

Morrigan Fisher regards you silently.

>>3926670
>Drop it
>Press on

>>3926671
>>Drop it

>>3926670
>Drop it

>>3926671
>Drop it

File: Beam.gif (1.25 MB, 394x215)

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You heed the warning, falling into silence and hanging your head, unwilling to pursue the point any further than you’d pushed it. You’d spent the last five years going back and forth with the man before you, why would—

‘Instructor Fisher, I was meaning to ask you this morning,’ Emilio starts, not missing a beat. ‘I saw the first Piranha training units arriving when I was in the practice hangar … are the third years going to be starting with their orbital training modules as part of the mandatory syllabus or is it still going to be an optional add-on regarding combat protocol with Mechs?’

‘The implementation of it’s being handled rather … carefully, at this current juncture,’ Fisher answers, her voice laced with the authority of a superior officer and Instructor … as it always had been. ‘Command pod and cockpit dampening still isn’t at levels that we’re satisfied with to run training environments in. Orbital combat is still seen as something that’s purely within the range of the Naval barges and fighters over hybrid beasts like Option Pack-installed Mechs, but the Piranha should change some minds regarding engagement in orbital or even space-way situations. Personally, I think it’s a good idea to have the cadets exposed to the possibility of orbital combat assignments early on, as unlikely as they are to be your … priority assignments, so to speak.’

Emilio nods sagely.

‘It’s best to be prepared,’ he answers, before creasing his brows. ‘Considering orbital combat has been … a possible combat environment, is there a reason that there hasn’t been a push for it? Safety considerations aside?’

‘Mostly because fighters fill that niche better than Mechs do … in general, anyway,’ you answer, nodding in Fisher’s direction. ‘The only thing the craft in general come up short in is that their ratio of active hours against maintenance are dreadfully … dreadful in space conditions due to the hull stress from the constant movement. Mechs are bulkier and with the right outfit, can serve as support, but in a one-on-one, a Mech’s more likely to get dizzied out of a solution than they’d be able to mount a counterattack … if the pilot even survives the stress at all.’

‘Stress?’ Sansa sounds out, her inquiry surprising you.

‘Physics,’ you answer, making a gesture with your hands in a motion that looks as though you were kneading the very air itself. ‘Multi-directional movement above certain velocity thresholds cause intense stress on the human body. Compared to spacecraft, there isn’t compensatory force to … make up for being tossed around like a bug in a jar.’

Sansa rolls her eyes. ‘Yeah? That’s what you have inertial dampeners for, right?’

>>3926911
>[Groan at her cluelessness]
>‘You do realize how small a command pod is, right?’ (Exasperated)
>‘The dampening zone is too small to provide anything truly … helpful. If anything, it’s added stress with the other en-con panels.’ (Patient)
>‘Fighters generally move in one direction and provide less complicated inertia management. Mechs operate on omni-directional thrust vectors in comparison and are more likely to cause injury.’ (Knowledgeable)
>‘We have a gearhead here. Why don’t we get her to explain how a command pod-slash-cockpit handles inertia in comparison to an actual deck of a ship.’ (Ask Rosaria to fill in the details)
>Write-In

>>3926916
>>‘We have a gearhead here. Why don’t we get her to explain how a command pod-slash-cockpit handles inertia in comparison to an actual deck of a ship.’ (Ask Rosaria to fill in the details)

>>3926916
>‘We have a gearhead here. Why don’t we get her to explain how a command pod-slash-cockpit handles inertia in comparison to an actual deck of a ship.’ (Ask Rosaria to fill in the details)

>>3926916
>>‘We have a gearhead here. Why don’t we get her to explain how a command pod-slash-cockpit handles inertia in comparison to an actual deck of a ship.’ (Ask Rosaria to fill in the details)

>>3926916
>Groan in literal Nerd pain
>‘We have a gearhead here. Why don’t we get her to explain how a command pod-slash-cockpit handles inertia in comparison to an actual deck of a ship.’ (Ask Rosaria to fill in the details)

>>3926916
>>‘We have a gearhead here. Why don’t we get her to explain how a command pod-slash-cockpit handles inertia in comparison to an actual deck of a ship.’ (Ask Rosaria to fill in the details)

>>3926916
>[Groan at her cluelessness]
>‘We have a gearhead here. Why don’t we get her to explain how a command pod-slash-cockpit handles inertia in comparison to an actual deck of a ship.’ (Ask Rosaria to fill in the details)

Running in t-minus 37 minutes.

‘As much as I’d love to get into the nitty-gritty of grav-tech,’ you start, raising your gaze and throwing a glance towards the blonde woman at the end of the table, ‘I believe the explanation would be of a … considerably higher quality coming from someone who’s practically lived under the influence of the tech for what I presume to be a significant amount of her lifespan?’

‘E-Eh?’

Perhaps you’d been too eloquent back there.

‘Rosaria’s more of a ship engineer than anyone at this table … a regular gear-head,’ you clarify, gesturing for her to take the stage. ‘She’s probably more qualified explaining how command pods and cockpits handle inertia and high velocity states in comparison to the bulkhead of a transport vessel.’

+1 LEADERSHIP

‘Oh, uh … it actually has to do with size.’

‘Size?’ Sansa repeats, frowning.

‘No, not size … volume, I believe … yes,’ Rosaria continues, raising her hands and having her palms facing one another; as though she was holding onto an invisible box. ‘I’m not sure what the theorems go by for the Empire, but … from where I come from, we call it the General Cocoon Instability State Theorem. It’s where the whole ship acts as a level plane, as if caught in the gravitational pull towards a—’

‘The Moreau Effect,’ Fisher chimes, nodding. ‘It’s what the Empire calls it.’

Rosaria nods in return.

‘Y-Yes,’ she stammers, shrinking slightly. ‘I … um … well, uh … in the execution of the cocoon, there are certain layers deployed by the drive in order to achieve such a state, but it’s not without certain … well, other states, side effects that come with it. This is due to the layer rotation that ships operate on, where a ship’s circuitry and panels make up the … phasing of the cocoon. I, uh … would assume that all of you are … aware that there are four, um … zones, if you will, for the layer rotation and the General Cocoon, I mean—the Moreau Effect—to be deployed safely. There’s the habitable area, which is the inside of a ship, the outer layer, which is effectively neutralized by electromagnetic repulsor tech, dead zone and the … the danger zone.

‘What um … I don’t know how to explain this any simpler than that a command pod or a … fighter’s cockpit is too small to apply the, um … drive at all. There’s just not enough space for a Mech or a fighter for the … theory to apply in such a way that it would be safe. Especially not with such rapid directional changes in combat and a compensator counter-acting it in return. There’s just no level of tech that has been achieved thus far that would … enable for compensators, dampeners and the cocoon to be of a passable risk standard.’

‘So Mechs are just too small?’

Rosaria raises a finger, her expression changing into a stern look that almost has you suspecting a link of lineage to a certain Instructor Memphis. Even her voice appears to take a sterner tone.

‘That, and … their power-plants, internal or external, generally don’t have enough to, um … keep such a state active for a length that is significant enough to … be effective. Especially with the minimum of ten feet required for a dead zone, it’d be inviting calamity putting it together with compensators and dampeners. Or at least, that’s how it operates on the escort fighters I was allowed to be around. I can’t … be sure of how it would apply to Mechs, but if it’s about size, there’s just not enough to go around for the pilot to be … assured. The cocoon would spell their deaths more than it would serve any benefit. In such a state, minor dampeners and general physical conditioning would be—’

She cuts herself off, shrinking back into place.

‘Forgive me, I didn’t mean to ramble—’

>Write-In

>>3931224
>applaud

>>3931224
I’ve rambled far worse. This was on topic and asked for. Thank you Rosaria.

>>3931224
>You weren't, please continue

>>3931235
>>3931236
>>3931239
Let's see who fate favors.

>>3931359
You alright there buddy?

>>3934027
I lost my identification card and have a flight to Singapore that I was unable to verify AND a pending government fine/suspension should I report it missing (This is the second time). I've been stressed out the half the week. Thank God I found it this morning ... at a fucking Baskin Robbins.

>>3937495
Does that mean that there's no update

lmao, I'm sorry OP that sucks ass.

>>3937500
Actually, I spent the last 48 plus hours stressing. I'm relaxed enough to run, which I will after I pray. Again, I'm sorry.

>>3937506
Np, ain't your fault. Glad you told us

>>3937495
I'm glad you found it. What ice cream did you bought?

>>3937885
Praline and cream, as always. Also, posting in a bit. My mother is overreacting about a comment my brother made about converting to Christianity (sarcastically) and I'm dealing with the fallout.

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‘I’ve rambled worse,’ you jest, offering her a smile of support before turning to the rest of the table’s occupants. ‘You able to catch all that? Sansa?’

‘Is it really simply because a command pod’s too small for the relevant gravtech?’ Sansa questions further, motioning her hands towards you. ‘I mean … the technology is about … two millennia old at the very least. Couldn’t we have done something to accommodate that structural … well, the physics of it all? We’re jumping lightyears in a matter of hours and days and a command pod’s gravitational integrity’s something that we can’t just put a bunch of brains together in a room to try and solve?’

You tilt your head.

It was a considerable question.

‘It’s not that there haven’t been any advancements made towards such a notion,’ Fisher starts, prompting all four of you to swivel your heads towards her. ‘However, considering the vastness of the Empire, the Republic … space in general, it’s quite the task to centralize a common engineering objective with a specific breakthrough in mind. There have been prototypes made towards the idea of a more compact compensator module, a more restrained and conservative energy design for a gravitation field, but there hasn’t been any significant leeway made beyond shifting the area of the danger zone or manipulating the strength of the protective cocoon to suit the extremities of interstellar travel. There are also the arguments of cost … and it generally isn’t seen as a pragmatic investment. Ships maximize their superiority in orbit and the Mechs deal with the ground. It’s been that way for centuries … not that there aren’t shifts in the dynamic occurring right now. The Piranha will probably be paving the way for a hybridization of combat and superiority dynamics regarding orbital, atmospheric and ground-based operations, but I doubt that we’ll be seeing that sort of thing actually enter common thought before we’re due a service length commendation.’

She leans back, wearing a small smile as she crosses her arms over her chest.

‘The acceleration of industry and the shattering of scientific limits are at their most rapid merely in the name of paranoia and a perceived promise of advantage against a foe—a threat—known or unknown. Never for its own sake.’

To your surprise, Fisher hadn’t been the one to utter those words, nor was it the cynical remark of one reluctant Reinweld heir.

Rosaria had chosen to voice her opinion, her voice … oddly neutral, factual, despite the gravity of the statement that she had offered for the table’s ears to consume.

Finally finding all eyes on her once again … she tilts her head, sheepish and silent as she had been before.

>Write-In

>>3938753
>Very nicely explained.

>>3938753
"That was something so cynical I thought Emilio had said it at first. But it sounds like you're quoting someone.

>>3938692
>My mother is overreacting about a comment my brother made about converting to Christianity
...As human living in a middle of europe this sentence is so fucking alien to me...

>>3938793
sounds good to me
>>3939607
SEA is a magical place

>>3939607
Some context: my mother was very much against my younger brother, who's in his mid-20s, from pursuing a relationship with his girlfriend, a Portuguese Hooters Girl who he struck up a relationship with and who was also a friend of my sister's (they went to the same college); my brother broke up with her, but not without some lingering salt and there's been a cold war in my house (not my literal house, but my clan) due to the incident. My brother, over dinner and one of my mother's almost Hitler-esque Malay Supremacy lectures, joked that since my mother's criteria was so strict, he might as well convert to Christianity ... and things exploded.

Now imagine, me, as the eldest son, who has to play mediator to every single instance of this sort of incident across my extended and immediate family.

Session in 25 minutes.

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‘That’s … very nicely explained,’ you concede, a sardonic twitch threatening to pull the corners of your mouth upwards. ‘I couldn’t have put it better myself.’

‘A little cynical, don’t you think?’ Sansa points out, wrinkling her nose as she places her elbows upon the table.

‘I didn’t mean to … inject my perspective into everyone else’s,’ Rosaria clarifies, biting her bottom lip and hanging her head. ‘It’s just … on my fleet, I … the Colony Fleet I’m from doesn’t take a particularly, um, optimistic header regarding humanity’s role in technological advancement. My Administrator, his officers, our teachers … they always taught us that it’s in our nature to adjust ourselves based on comfort and hardship … and too much of the former propagates less of a tendency to … change. It’s merely how I was … encouraged to look at things.’

‘You say that you were taught,’ Morrigan starts, adjusting her cap, ‘but is it what you choose to believe?’

‘I … I don’t know,’ she sighs. ‘I’ve never had the luxury to be able to be … seditious. I’m sorry, Miss Fisher.’

‘Change does usually come as a response to a disturbance of the status quo,’ Emilio offers, crossing his arms over his chest and sparing the former Colony Fleet inhabitant a brief glance. ‘The velocity and inclination for such an action is more a reaction than it is one of nature. We don’t move forward because we want to. We move forward when we have to; when we need to. War, science, both follow the same principle. I’m inclined to agree with that perspective.’

‘Somehow I’m not surprised,’ you jibe, chuckling wryly.

‘What about you, Senpai?’

Rosaria had grown rather chatty since the five of you had found the booth.

>‘My thoughts are my own.’ (Decline to comment)
>‘Advancement and adaptation are responsive, reactionary actions. I’m … well, I suppose I’m inclined to agree just as much as Reinweld here.’ (Agree)
>‘As much as I loathe playing the optimist, I’ve seen enough to know that it’s human nature to move forward because we choose to. Not because we’re comfortable or uncomfortable. We drive ourselves. We’re not driven by external extremities. That’s merely an excuse for one’s own fears.’ (Disagree)
>‘Do we move forward because we choose to or because circumstances force us to take that next step? To that, I say … it depends. I don’t think there’s an easy answer for that, whichever way you lean.’ (Neutral)
>‘Aren’t you chatty?’ (Divert)
>Write-In

>>3940800
>‘Advancement and adaptation are responsive, reactionary actions. I’m … well, I suppose I’m inclined to agree just as much as Reinweld here.’ (Agree)

>>3940800
>>‘Do we move forward because we choose to or because circumstances force us to take that next step? To that, I say … it depends. I don’t think there’s an easy answer for that, whichever way you lean.’ (Neutral)

>>3940800
>>‘As much as I loathe playing the optimist, I’ve seen enough to know that it’s human nature to move forward because we choose to. Not because we’re comfortable or uncomfortable. We drive ourselves. We’re not driven by external extremities. That’s merely an excuse for one’s own fears.’ (Disagree)

>>3940800
>>‘As much as I loathe playing the optimist, I’ve seen enough to know that it’s human nature to move forward because we choose to. Not because we’re comfortable or uncomfortable. We drive ourselves. We’re not driven by external extremities. That’s merely an excuse for one’s own fears.’ (Disagree)

>>3940800
>>‘As much as I loathe playing the optimist, I’ve seen enough to know that it’s human nature to move forward because we choose to. Not because we’re comfortable or uncomfortable. We drive ourselves. We’re not driven by external extremities. That’s merely an excuse for one’s own fears.’ (Disagree)

File: Morrigan 9.jpg (84 KB, 800x990)

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‘As much as I loathe playing the optimist, I’ve seen enough to know that it’s human nature to move forward by our own drive and determination to advance ourselves—to change, build and learn—by our own volition over the drive to return to a state of comfort or a status quo,’ you declare, your voice steadier than you’d thought it would be. ‘I learn because I am curious, I hone my skills because I want to be better compared to who I was before. The metamorphosis and the drive of humans isn’t the product of fear or discomfort: it is the way we are made. You’re free to choose otherwise, but you’d merely be denying your own evolution acting in mere response.

The ones who shape the future and carve out lives worth living are the ones that are willing to take that step. Science, combat, discipline … I don’t believe for a moment that as a race, a species, that we’re content to be stagnant. I refuse to be a coward and fall into the trap of my own hesitation or doubt. One is free to stay where they are, as they wish, but to think that humans as a whole are a reactionary lot instead of one built on drive and ambition is to just excuse one’s own weakness to be that of our own nature. As I said before: it’s a notion I reject. It is a truth I refuse.’

The occupants of the table stare at you.

Emilio more intensely than the others.

‘It’s a good thing you lost all that weight, because if you’d said that back in our first year, my hair would probably fall out from my head hearing you say something so … palatable.’

Your lips wear a cruel smile as you glare across the table.

‘It’s a good thing I’ve learned to take your words for no value at all, or you’d have missing teeth to go with that missing hair.’

Emilio snorts, the corners of his mouth forming a light smile as he concedes, leaning back into his seat.

Outside, you can hear the party still going on. As it should be; as late as it was, you knew better than to expect five years of irresponsibility gated behind Aegis-trained discipline to die down within four standard hours. Still, you feel as though—

‘Instructor Fisher.’

You turn your head to the end of the table … where you spy the gray uniform of an ODF Officer, wrapped around the lanky-looking package of a red-headed young man who was barely older than you.

‘Yes?’ she answers tentatively, turn her head away from you and towards the Officer.

‘The Watch Commander requests your presence, ma’am.’

‘I do have a personal comm channel,’ she replies dryly.

‘Um … yes, ma’am, uh, he … lost your ID.’

Fisher mumbles something unintelligible under her breath. ‘Is this a priority alert?’

‘He, um … wouldn’t say. He just told me to, um … find you and accompany you to the primary array. Instructor Memphis is already on-site.’

‘Memphis?’

Memphis?

>>3940906
>'Why would Instructor Memphis be needed? Is she part of the Joint Command Protocol?'
>Listen some more
>Write-In

>>3940907
>>Listen some more

>>3940907
>Listen some more

>>3940906
>>Listen some more

Testing

>>3940768
Just like in those exotic telenovelas my grandmother watches!
>>3940907
>>Listen some more

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She furrows her brows, turning her back to you as she gets to her feet, the motion so loud that you can hear the gyros and suspension of her artificial legs whining as she executes the action. The ODF Officer steps back, his chin tilting upwards as she affords the White Hawk of Arrakis her space. Morrigan straightens her collar before turning to face the table, wearing a dry—yet apologetic—smile.

‘I’m sorry to say that you’ll have to carry on with the festivities without me,’ she chuckles, tipping her cap.

The table’s occupants begin to rise to their feet, hands following in suit, ready to throw salute.

>‘Instructor Fisher. Permission to tag along, ma’am.’ (Request to follow)
>‘Ma’am.’ (Salute her departure)
>Write-In

>>3941864
>‘Instructor Fisher. Permission to tag along, ma’am.’ (Request to follow)

>>3941864
>‘Instructor Fisher. Permission to tag along, ma’am.’ (Request to follow)

>>3941864
>>‘Instructor Fisher. Permission to tag along, ma’am.’ (Request to follow)

‘Instructor Fisher,’ you start, squaring your shoulders. ‘Permission to tag along, ma’am.’

Fisher’s eyes widen slightly. Perhaps she hadn’t expected that you were so willing to sacrifice the rest of your night just to accompany her. Perhaps she was wondering why you’d decided to so randomly decide that you’d gamble on her permission to tag along on what was probably a call that had nothing to do with you whatsoever. Perhaps, even, she was befuddled by the suddenness of your declaration at contribution when the objectives were still opaque. Still, Fisher seems taken aback by your eagerness and offering of service … as does the man beside her, who wears a puzzled expression of his own.

Five years … and you’d still yet to learn not to jump without looking first.

‘I,’ Fisher hesitates, before chortling and sighing. ‘I’m not sure what capacity you believe you’ll be able to contribute, ensign, but … permission granted.’

The ODF Officer nods, gesturing for the both of you to follow. If he had something to say about your sudden bout of volunteering, he doesn’t mention it. You spare one last glance to the table of three, catching a flat glare from your younger mistress (who probably had some choice words regarding your sudden abandonment of the night’s festivities) and the uncertain gaze of a Colony Fleet Inhabitant, who was looking between—

>‘Instructor Fisher, would you mind if …’ (Ask if Sansa and Rosaria are allowed to follow)
>Make an apologetic gesture and leave
>Write-In

>>3941907
>‘Instructor Fisher, would you mind if …’ (Ask if Sansa and Rosaria are allowed to follow)

>>3941907
>>‘Instructor Fisher, would you mind if …’ (Ask if Sansa and Rosaria are allowed to follow)

>>3941907
>>‘Instructor Fisher, would you mind if …’ (Ask if Sansa and Rosaria are allowed to follow)

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‘Stay here.’

You hold your hand up in a salute, heeding Morrigan’s orders as she disappears behind the shutting hiss of a metal partition, the words RADAR OPERATIONS 06 stamped upon the door in bright, orange paint. You don’t argue against her, too tired from your journey to insist on your presence. To your side, Rosaria yawns so widely you almost feel yourself envious, rubbing the sand out of her eyes as she struggles to stay awake. You almost feel bad for allowing her to tag along: Sansa had declined your invitation to waddle behind Morrigan, citing her own responsibilities as head of the graduation party’s organization committee … but Rosaria had, as she had been since you met her, too eager to please and decided to accompany you anyway, regardless of her own wishes. Not that she’d said anything about it just yet, of course, but you knew that she would have rather install herself upon the mattress of your hotel room than having to prop herself up against the wall of the—

Your hand flies to grab the young woman’s shoulder, prompting her to latch onto your upper arm. Rosaria’s cheeks are pink, clearly embarrassed that she’d allowed herself to nod off so easily.

‘You didn’t have to follow me,’ you state neutrally, your eyes tracing the outline of bags from under your eyes. Rosaria smiles apologetically as you steady her against yourself. ‘I wouldn’t have held it against you if you wanted to go back to the hotel with Sansa.’

Rosaria doesn’t reply, letting out a light whimper with the extension of her arm, forcing herself back into a stand.

‘I … it would have been rude for me to depart your—’

‘It really wouldn’t have been,’ you insist, your voice laced with amusement as you peer at the droopy young woman.

You don’t blame her for her current state. You’d zipped all across town, ODF branch to ODF office to get a bead on the Watch Commander, only to discover that they’d hiked all the way to Kerensky Launchport … or rather, the spot right next to it: the western hemisphere’s main array. It had been close to two hours since you’d left the party … and you couldn’t help but question your decision to bail out on some much-needed sleep to just park yourself right next to where you would be by the crack of dawn. You run a hand through your hair, hoping that Fisher wouldn’t take too long.

Rosaria yawns widely, rubbing the sand out of her eyes again.

You glance down the hallway towards the lift doors. If you remembered correctly, the hangars were just a level down and a section over … if Fisher took as long here as she did with the rest, you could …

‘Senpai?’

>Stand at attention, stay at your post
>Give Rosaria a tour of the hangar
>Write-In

>>3942846
>>Stand at attention, stay at your post

>>3942846
>>Stand at attention, stay at your post

>>3942846
>>Stand at attention, stay at your post

>>3942846
>Stand at attention, stay at your post

You elect to stay at your post. You didn’t want to bring on the ire of a superior … even if she was your lover. Graduation was a mere shoulder glance back … and the last thing you wanted was to force Fisher to hold you in contempt for the sin of not being able to follow an order to stay put. You hold your wrist behind your back, squaring your shoulders, eyeballs clicking as they stare at the metal bulkhead across. To your right, Rosaria wobbles as her stamina whittles away … before electing to lean against the wall, a tired sigh escaping her nostrils.

‘Rosaria?’

‘Oh!’

She stands to attention, eyes widening as her back straightens as she performs a crude about-face towards you.

‘I … I’m sorry, I’m just a little …’

A large yawn escapes her maw.

‘I’m just a little … tired.’

The weak smile almost melts your heart. Almost.

‘I’m sure that Fisher wouldn’t mind if you went off to find a bench or something,’ you suggest, wondering if there were benches in the building at all. The only things you’d seen were hallways, doors, lifts and windows. Perhaps one of the offices or the cafeteria would—

‘It’s all right,’ Rosaria reassures, a modicum of energy returning to her voice. ‘I chose to be here, Senpai. It’d be inconsiderate of me to just wander off.’

‘You wouldn’t have followed me if I hadn’t suggested for you to tag along,’ you mutter apologetically, wondering just why you hadn’t insisted the opposite instead; you knew she wouldn’t say no to your request. You didn’t need to know her for longer than half a day to know that the way she acted around you was ingrained in gratitude and reverence rather than obligation … and you felt terrible for it.

Rosaria merely smiles in response. It nearly unbalances you.

‘You know, I’m sure that you’ll get tired of me saying it sometime soon, but … you’re not at all how I expected an heir to worlds and industries to be like.’

You could almost laugh.

‘You’re only about five years too late,’ you remark, prompting her to giggle. ‘I could act the part if it’d make you more comfortable. It’s not as if I’m unaware of the requirements of the stereotype. Pointing at surfaces, demanding tribute … acting as if I’m the Emperor’s outstretched hand and the universe is mine for the taking …’

She shivers comically. ‘I rather like you better this way.’

You snort, running a hand through your hair. You’re uncertain whether she meant it proper, but the wee hours didn’t allow you to over-think the matter. You decide to leave it at that. Silence reigns for the next few minutes; bodies pass through the door, closing and shutting as technicians and officers rush between the lift, hallway, scattered offices and the operations room, uncaring for your presence.

By the fifteenth minute, you find yourself … bored.

>>3942987
>‘Well, you probably know a lot about me … do you mind if I ask you a few things?’ (Talk some more)
>Keep still, be quiet
>Write-In

>>3942987
>‘Well, you probably know a lot about me … do you mind if I ask you a few things?’ (Talk some more)

>>3942987
>‘Well, you probably know a lot about me … do you mind if I ask you a few things?’ (Talk some more)
How'd you picture me?

>>3942991
>>‘Well, you probably know a lot about me … do you mind if I ask you a few things?’ (Talk some more)

‘Well,’ you start, clearing your throat and turning towards her, ‘I … Rosaria, I was wondering if you’d be able to indulge in a … curiosity of mine.’

She looks up towards you, eyes wide and … apprehensive. Perhaps your choice of words were rather … unfortunate.

‘What I mean to say is, you’ve … been around me for the whole day and … well, I’m sure that you’ve learned more about me than you’d have bothered to out of your own curiosity. I … ah … I have to say, though, that … outside of the tidbits of your life and that you have an inclination towards starship engineering, I … know hardly anything else about you. Well, that and … this and that about your Fleet. Would you mind if I … asked you a few things? Just to, um … satisfy some things that I’m a little, um …’

You trail off, sighing. It was better if you got to the point. You doubt that anyone in the universe was tolerant of this much meandering.

‘I’d like to know more about you,’ you declare, finally, hoping that the closure of distance hadn’t resulted in you unwittingly looming over the former Colony Space Inhabitant. ‘Your … well, you’ve told me much, but I … I was hoping that, since we have nothing else to do but stand around until Instructor Fisher returns, we’d—’

‘Of course,’ Rosaria answers gently; you take a step back. ‘Anything in particular?’

>‘Tell me about your family.’
>‘What are your ambitions for the future?’
>‘Those tattoos … I know that they’re markings of the Colony Fleet, but what do they mean?’
>‘How was life like on the Colony Fleet? I mean … not for you, but … in general. What was it like?’
>Write-In

>>3943066
>>‘Tell me about your family.’

>>3943066
>>‘What are your ambitions for the future?’

>>3943066
>‘What are your ambitions for the future?’

>>3943066
>>‘What are your ambitions for the future?’

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‘What are your ambitions for the future?’

She blinks, evidently surprised at your sudden line of query. ‘Am … bition?’

‘Is there something that you aspire to achieve after having completed your apprenticeship?’ you reiterate, right as a young woman—probably another technician—zooms past the open door, which hisses shut within deciseconds. ‘I don’t mean to pry … well, I do mean to pry, but I’m genuinely curious if there’s anything that you’re outlining for yourself after you, uh … you know, finish up here. You’re not going to find a lot of engineering work on Rhysode and since you’re studying under the Aegis banner, I was wondering where you’d be looking to apply your knowledge once your three year mandatory service is up.’

Her eyes bug out. ‘T-Three year mandatory service?’

‘I’m not sure if that applies to you, of—wait, you’re telling me that you don’t know about that?’

‘N-No,’ she replies, sounding worried. ‘You mean that I’m going to be … a soldier? Just like you?’

‘Well, I’m not sure if it’d apply to you,’ you clarify, crossing your arms over your chest. ‘I mean … maybe. You’re a little old to go through the supplementary and remedial training … and you’re here on recommendation from Fisk himself, aren’t you? You probably won’t have to … but maybe you might? Ugh; you know what? We’re veering off-topic here. You should ask Fisk about your service requirement if you’re going to be put under the Aegis. You might not have to at all.’

You’re not sure if all that was enough to reassure her, but you had to do something.

‘I wouldn’t mind it,’ she confesses. ‘It would be the least I could do for the opportunity to start over. I might even end up working with you!’

You laugh. ‘Trust me, you don’t want to work in logistics. Specialist or Officer, it’s just being a glorified … courier. It’s vital work, but I have more in mind than four walls and a data slate with details on the next system schedule. Not to mention the hours. Logistics have almost zero downtime. Being in space and between jump points … ugh.’

Rosaria … laughs.

‘I’m sure you’ll manage.’

You wince. Right. You’d forgotten just who you were talking to.

‘To answer your question, I … I suppose I’d be fine with anything as long as I’m able to do it standing on my own two feet. I’m very flexible.’

‘I’m not asking you where you care to land,’ you remark, snorting. ‘I’m asking you if there’s anything that you’re hoping to achieve? There’s got to be something out there you’re hoping to get out of being Fisk’s occasional guinea pig.’

She shrinks slightly.

Perhaps you were being a little aggressive.

‘I’m sorry, I …’

‘I’ve never really thought about it,’ she answers, quietly.

It is then that you are reminded of her circumstances. The what and how of her background; her arrival on Rhysode with but a small bag of clothes and less crowns to her name than you had in the threaded needle. You look away, feeling irritated at yourself for having pushed the issue beyond what had been a mere attempt to pass the time.

‘I’m sorry,’ you apologize, again. ‘I mean … enjoying what you do and being able to do it is ambition too, right?’

She bites her bottom lip, looking downward.

‘Is there something that you think I should … strive for?’

You wince, wondering just how you were going to answer this.

>Write-In

>>3943204
Someone on the Discord said that I should give some choices, so I thought about it and ... here you go:

>'What about aiming to work for a proper starship ship-building ultracorp? You like working on ships, don't you? What about aiming to help design and engineer them?'
>'You could always strike out on your own and enable yourself to be an independent contractor if you have the confidence for it.'
>'The AEGIS could use able bodies on its ships. It's not glamorous and I don't recommend it, given your background, but if you're looking to serve, I'd be stupid to tell you not to join the Engineering Corps past your mandatory service.'
>'Maybe ... if it's an option, maybe you could go back to the Colony Fleet and try to, you know, change things. Change everything.'
>'I ... no. I can't put you on a path you don't want to follow ... or isn't yours. Your ambition has to be something you grasp and reach for; I won't do that for you.'
>Write-In

>>3943216
>'What about aiming to work for a proper starship ship-building ultracorp? You like working on ships, don't you? What about aiming to help design and engineer them?'

>>3943204
>>Write-In
"That, my dear... is ultimately an answer you and only you can answer. I guess most people do tend towards what they're skilled at and you did get picked up by Fisk so you certainly could go in that direction. And then there are those who find something they absolutely wish to devote their lives to, like Muad’Dib and his food.

Still, you don't need to have an answer now. You've got years here at the academy. Plenty of time to figure out what it is you might want to do in the future."

>>3943216
>'What about aiming to work for a proper starship ship-building ultracorp? You like working on ships, don't you? What about aiming to help design and engineer them?'
Stereotypical, but works

>>3943216
>>'What about aiming to work for a proper starship ship-building ultracorp? You like working on ships, don't you? What about aiming to help design and engineer them?'

>>3943204
>>3943232
This

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You weren’t bothered by Rosaria’s background; you’d been suspicious at first, but you’d hardly perpetuated the notion after the fifth exchange of words. At the same time, however, you could hardly expect the wider Imperium to be as tolerant of her origins as a Colony Fleet Inhabitant; centuries of suspicion had allowed but a handful of minds to consider the possibility of a jovial communique between bodies … not that it was a one way street, of course. Still, suggesting her to continue pursuit of her career in The AEGIS after her service period ended (should she be subjected to it, in any case) … would be irresponsible. The AEGIS and the Colony Fleets had especially allowed that furnace to run hot, and from what you heard of cadets from those Fleets and their career habits, a scant few had pursued advancement, choosing to take their credentials into less … incensive environments. Many of them had gone into smaller ventures as independent contractors and the like, but … you wouldn’t call such a spot worthy of ambition.

‘How about aiming to work for a ship-building ultracorp?’ you suggest, hoping it would pique her interest. ‘You like working on ships … and ultracorps with fingers on the industry and development of capital ships, freighters, commercial cruisers … you’d be able to work and design on those. Maybe even get your name up there as a Primary Shipwright.’

‘An … ultracorp?’

‘Hm?’

‘Aren’t those, um … those faceless entities spanning population centers, stations and continents that assist in the machinations of the Empire’s industry?’

You blink.

‘Yes?’

Well, not quite faceless, of course. There was a representation of the entity as well as the shared responsibility of council across dozens, sometimes even hundreds of directors and officers, but … well, for one from a background such as hers, even the common people, it was easy to point out how ultracorps were faceless companies with no cycle of accountability.

Ironically, it was even simpler for someone such as your father to point out the exact opposite.

‘I think that it’d be a good place to progress your career. There’s Kuat, Adeptus-Caul, Frater … is there something the matter?’

Rosaria grimaces, twiddling her thumbs.

‘I just … I don’t feel, um, quite comfortable with the, um … I’ve never really imagined working for an ultracorp. My uncle, even the administrator … they’ve never really had anything good to say about them. The stories about their influence, the scope of their operations …’

‘Ring as true as gossip about the average Scion’s sheer hedonism,’ you finish for her.

She turns her gaze downward, brows drooping guiltily.

‘Well,’ you start again, sighing. ‘Not like there isn’t some truth to that, of course. I mean … I’d be lying if everything was as clean as handing over a glass of untreated orange juice for an exchange of crowns. Is there something about them that specifically bothers you?’

‘I … well, I’m not ignorant of prejudices, but … aren’t ultracorps especially against … my kind. Would they even accept me?’

‘I’m going to be frank with you on that.’

>‘They despise Colony Fleets for extending the life of generally obsolete tech. They’d actually welcome expertise from Colony Fleets with open arms if the schism didn’t exist, but … well, that’s economics and politics for you.’ (Neutral)
>‘Colony Fleets are probably the one collective in Empire space that they actually don’t hold sway on save for the occasional tech salvage. It’s a story of valuation, control … not of mere prejudice.’ (Pessimistic)
>‘Actually … as someone from a Colony Fleet, you’d probably get a boost if you’re naturally adept at tech. They’d probably headhunt a few of your engineers if … well, if things aren’t as they are.’ (Optimistic)
>‘I … don’t know.’
>Write-In

>>3943790
>‘Colony Fleets are probably the one collective in Empire space that they actually don’t hold sway on save for the occasional tech salvage. It’s a story of valuation, control … not of mere prejudice.’ (Pessimistic)
Let's get real
There probably are a good bunch of renegade colonials out there with better engine skill than her

>>3943790
>>‘Colony Fleets are probably the one collective in Empire space that they actually don’t hold sway on save for the occasional tech salvage. It’s a story of valuation, control … not of mere prejudice.’ (Pessimistic)

>>3943790
>>‘They despise Colony Fleets for extending the life of generally obsolete tech. They’d actually welcome expertise from Colony Fleets with open arms if the schism didn’t exist, but … well, that’s economics and politics for you.’ (Neutral)
>You will have plenty time to think about this. With good head on your shoulders whatever you pick you will manage I'm sure of it.

>>3943790
>>‘They despise Colony Fleets for extending the life of generally obsolete tech. They’d actually welcome expertise from Colony Fleets with open arms if the schism didn’t exist, but … well, that’s economics and politics for you.’ (Neutral)

>>3943797
Probably.

>>3943790
>Normally they are, but I am one of the few people in the galaxy that can found new ultracorpse just to work on new passion projects. Ever hear of [game system corpse]? That was a birthday present from my father.

>>3943797
>>3943798

>>3943799
>>3943807
Flipping a coin. Coin flipped.

KNOWLEDGE + 1

‘They despise the Colony Fleets in general for extending the life of generally obsolete tech,’ you explain, trying to keep your intonation as devoid of emotional bias as you can manage. ‘If we’re talking about expertise, however … I can think of a few instances where the expertise of a Colony Fleet engineer or technician would’ve been welcomed rather than shunned. Your ability to be … creative, given the limitations set by your environment and the relative isolation from the Imperium’s resources, education, manpower … if the schism was minute or non-existent, I don’t think that ultracorps or constructors would hesitate in bringing a Colony Fleet’s expert in in an increased capacity of influence. But … even with all that, that’s economics and politics for you: branches of division and envy, barriers of considerable impregnability.’

‘Very poetic of you, Senpai,’ Rosaria remarks, prompting a mirthless, throaty chuckle to sound out from your throat. ‘However, I … suppose, to that, I have to emphasize my thanks that you aren’t of such a brand.’

‘Not wholly,’ you admit, placing your hands behind your head and craning your neck. ‘I won’t declare that I’ve totally expunged myself of equally-guilty assumptions, but I do know that you’d be an asset wherever you decide to go. I mean … if Fisk has faith in your capacity to put you in for an apprenticeship, I’d be stupid to believe that you were beneath anything but of considerable contribution potential.’

She laughs bashfully, scratching the back of her head.

‘Thank you.’

You nod.

The doors hiss open, the sound of heavy boots on metal floors hitting your ears; another—

‘It can’t be a line of sight problem, could it?’

‘Not on this magnitude; we’d be looking at a total system shutdown, total system failure … not a black spot.’

‘Would you even call this a black spot?. What if there’s a moderate gravity well that appeared between the poles and cause the interference?’

‘This isn’t a net serial, you moron.’

They continue down the hallway, their irritations fading into grunts and unintelligible whispers. You peer past their retreating backs, wondering just what was going on. It’d been some time since you’d stood out here. Was there something wrong with the RADAR Array? Gravity wells? A black … spot? Oh, right. A black spot. You’d heard of those. Something about … yes: A general blind spot in the orbit surveillance and relay network-slash-system. You remember that. Was that why Fisher was called? Why Memphis was here?

‘Senpai?’

‘Oh, sorry. Just … spacing out.’

You glance towards the door.

>Go down to the hangar
>Stay where you are
>Attempt entry
>Write-In

>>3943874
>Attempt entry

>>3943874
>>Go down to the hangar
>Tell the guard to pass a message to Fisher that we'll be in the hangar, and that if there is a blind spot in orbital security, a lower tech alternative might allow them to get a read onto the situation, telescope, cameras and weather satellites.

>>3943889
There is no guard.

>>3943874
>>Stay where you are

>>3943874
>>Stay where you are

>>3943874
>Attempt entry

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>>3943887
>>3943904

>>3943889
>>3943895
Flipping a coin. Thank God. We're now this much closer to progressing. Coin flipped. Writing up.

I'm having brekky, brb okay?

The door buzzes at your attempt at providing … legitimate credentials. You weren’t allowed in; at least … not without proper authorization.

‘Senpai?’

A quick glance at the panel does tell you that there was a comm available; you can only hope that there was someone on the other side who would open the door for you. Still … everyone looked quite busy, going in and out at pace so brisk that they could give Maldante a run for his money on exam day. You don’t know whether you should just barge in, especially with Fisher having told you to stay put. The operations room was just on the other side of the door … and judging by the pace, you could very well decide to just wait and ask for someone to let you in (If they would, anyway), ask someone who was already on your side of the door for permission to entry or just … well, whatever else could come to mind.

You didn’t want to stay where you were, that was for sure.

Well, unless you had the off-chance of encountering someone who would allow you entry, of course.

Hopefully.

>Ask for entry
>Go and look for someone to let you in
>Wait for someone to let you in
>Write-In

>>3944184
>>Ask for entry

>>3944184
>>Ask for entry

>>3944184
>>Ask for entry

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You decide to try your luck.

‘Excuse me?’

No answer.

‘Uh … hello?’

‘Who is this?’ a stern voice sounds out; young, but undoubtedly … firm. ‘Identify yourself.’

>‘I’m here with Instructor Fisher and Instructor Memphis? ID GAIA-0401, Specialist.’ (Informal)
>‘AEGIS Specialist, ID GAIA 0401 requesting entry.’ (Professional)
>‘Um … I’m Miss Fisher’s, um … temp and she gave me orders to ask around if any of the ODF officers wanted … pizza. Unless you guys want cheese and pineapple on all of them; make it easier for me.’ (Pizza Time)
>Write-In

>>3944213
>>‘AEGIS Specialist, ID GAIA 0401 requesting entry.’ (Professional)

>>3944213
>>‘AEGIS Specialist, ID GAIA 0401 requesting entry.’ (Professional)
ah god, pizza time so tempting

Professional courtesy was an orchestra … and you didn’t dare be the first one to screech a tune.

‘AEGIS Specialist, ID designation GAIA-0401 requesting entry.’

There’s a brief pause.

‘Clearance unable to be confirmed, GAIA-0401; current status is unassigned and inactive. Jurisdiction and designation unable to be authorized due to current status. Please clarify the reason for your visit.’

You count backwards from ten, reminding yourself that behind these doors, a myriad of bodies were at work making sure the jump points and receiving spaces were in working order … not to mention the FTL communication boosters that popped gravity wells through advanced physics and mathematics. Of course they’d be asking as to why you were here … again. One didn’t just let anyone in without proper clearance and you had to give it to the desk jockey in charge of the area access: he was doing as his job had demanded. The job, being, keeping those that didn’t have a reason to be here … to not be.

It didn’t make it any less irritating, though. You had had to go through the check a few levels down and you really didn’t like having to repeat the process. It was just inefficient.

‘I arrived with Instructor Morrigan Fisher; my visitation identification is keyed in to the same lock … I’m requesting access as per regulation … sir.’

You could swear that you could hear a chuckle on the other side of the comm.

‘Sir, huh? Didn’t think that you AEGIS folks could quit being so uppity for a whole sentence.’

You sigh, remembering that you were trying to get through. Not bar yourself out.

>‘Yes, sir. May I please come in? I wish to check on my superior.’ (Direct, respectful)
>Keep silent
>Give up
>‘I don’t have time for small talk. Can I come in or not?’ (Aggressive)
>Write-In

>>3944302
>‘Yes, sir. May I please come in? I wish to check on my superior.’ (Direct, respectful)

>>3944302
>>‘Yes, sir. May I please come in? I wish to check on my superior.’ (Direct, respectful)

>>3944302
>Sir can I come in or not? (respectfully aggressive)

>>3944302

>‘Yes, sir. May I please come in? I wish to check on my superior.’ (Direct, respectful)

‘Yes, sir,’ you return, trying to keep your voice as respectful as possible. ‘Would you please grant me entrance? I wish to check on the status of my superior. Not that I doubt her ability to manage whatever crisis you happen to be managing right now, but I’d rather show that I am of a proactive sort rather than one who merely waits for a prompt. If you’d be so kind to allow my trespass?’

You hear a snort … and a light beep.

The door hisses open.

You mouth your thanks, nodding towards the panel before side-stepping yourself into the room, gesturing for Rosaria to follow.

It’s as hectic as you imagined it to be.

Data slates were littered across surfaces; monitors and holographic displays glowed a bright red as you count anywhere between a dozen to twenty bodies furiously clacking away. It needn’t take the observant more than half a glance to discern that [FEED UNAVAILABLE] across multiple displays didn’t spell good news. Many of those present were disheveled, more than likely stressed out from the plethora of … issues at hand. You know you would be.

‘Any change?’

‘I can’t get a read anywhere. The only thing that’s working is cross-continental communication.’

‘What do the ones down south have to say about it?’

‘Watch Commander Ingrid says that there’s no change.’

‘How long are we until the black-out’s declared an emergency?’

‘Someone get me some coffee!’

Red light, blue lights, green lights. Voices laced with worry, determination and frustration.

>Ask for Instructor Fisher
>Ask someone what’s going on
>Write-In

>>3944408
>Ask someone what’s going on

>>3944408
>Ask for Instructor Fisher

>>3944408
>>Ask for Instructor Fisher