A Union is a big ship, but not so big that the narrow gap between bays 1 and 2 was more than thirty seconds walk. Gesturing grandly at the slim form packed between the cavernous mech bays Darius grinned. “Jo, I’d like you to meet my pride and joy, Ophelia’s Dragonfly. ‘Phelia, this is Jo.”

A Ferret helicopter isn’t much to look at, not in a world of 12 meter tall war machines. Barely larger than a big passenger van, and painted in drab camouflage, it looked spindly and delicate next to the gigantic Highlander berthed in bay 1, but Dar’s voice had nothing but pride for the little helicopter. Moving down one side of the bird, he started undoing latches and swung up one side of the rear fuselage, just behind the sliding door for the cargo bay. “Don’t think you came to see the outside though, you’re here for the sexy bits.” A laugh and a wave invited his fellow tech into the innards of ‘his’ helicopter.

What does the date mean to you?  I would guess it means something as i doubt you would leave it for 50 years.

Is there a way to work on some practice while we are in transit? Are there simlators or something on the ship? I would hate to waste weeks while traveling if we dont have to.

Colin continued to set up his equipment after moving to the unoccupied area of the Hangar Bay. Various comms and training gear littered the area around him. The temporary console that he was using to interface with the equipment was currently paused at the 44% for the second time. The interface lurched forward on the progress bar and paused again. Colin rubbed his temples. “Please, just load. I don’t want to fight you,” he groaned as he looked down at the diagnostic scanner in his hand that was feeding lines of code and color coordinated them for ease of reading.

Skinner spent his time with Three-Fingers chatting and assisting wherever the man needed an extra set of hands.
This message was last edited by the player at 04:45, Wed 08 Mar 2023.

"Well hello, beautiful," Jo murmured, her eyes tracing the lines of the small craft. Size was not everything - Jo could attest to that. Much more impressive was the obvious care that the Dragonfly had enjoyed. It showed in every line, every meticulously cared for inch of plating. No shoddy patch jobs or cracked weld lines. Even had Darius not spoken about the helicopter with the care that he did, his affection for her would have shone through in the way the Ferret was maintained.

"Are you sure?" Jo asked when he invited her into the helicopter. She was already lifting herself in though, eager to poke around. Most of the vehicles she had been working on recently were shoddy old things, falling apart because of little to no maintenance. It would be a treat to get her hands on something like this. Not that she would do more than look, but still, it was a far cry from what she was used to.

As soon as she was inside, she started spouting questions - how did she handle? What had he done to deal with some of the Ferret's design flaws? What had he changed from the stock model and what was the same, and why? Once the questions started, they would continue at a rapidfire pace for as long as Darius would answer them.

As Jo started to inspect his charge, Dar hovered a little maternally at first, but the smaller tech handled his baby with all the respect he did. Ophelia was in good hands. Flipping down one of the canvas and pipe seats that folded against the front of the cabin, Dar took a seat, stretching out a little as he watched Jo poke around inside the engine.

His smile was broad and genuine as he tried to answer the flurry of questions as best he could. "She handles, oh she handles. Flat out, she'll just brush two hundred fifty kays, and Mike can stop her on a kroner and get back change." A chuckle of amusement at the minor exaggeration, but the questions kept coming. "We haven't done a lot of major modifications to her, she's still a stock Ferret. Mostly what you'd call cosmetic stuff to support our work." He pointed out the quick-release points for seats like the one he was occupying for troop transport, stretchers for medevac, and attachments at the doors for door gunners. "I did make a couple of key improvements, though. The chattergun under the nose is on pins, so we can pull it in thirty minutes and fill the mount with a spotlight for search and rescue work. Keeps the mount intact so the light still follows the pilot's head movements. And we added a mounting point by the port door to add a boom crane. The same size you'd use to pull engines in a ground car, but it lets us lower a basket to pick people out of places even Ophelia can't go."

"We haven't done a lot to address her design flaws. There's just not a lot you can do to a multirole bird this size without compromising one or most of those roles, but we've been talking for a while about replacing all of that..." He waved to the engine compartment a little wistfully. "With an Omni 25 fusion bottle. Problem is, I'm not an engineer, and fusion plants are just different. We've got the bottle now, sitting in the shop, but there's not an instruction manual on how to install one on here. That and without knowing where we're going and how much time we have, Kreig's hesitant to do the conversion without some time to fly test it. Sensible, but if we never start, it's never going to happen. I have fixed one glaring flaw in 'Phelia's design, though."

Chuckling, Dar reached under the jumpseat and undid a couple of catches, revealing a small compartment, just big enough for a small drawer that he pulled out. Inside, nestled in construction foam, were six bottles of Timbiqui Dark, protected against the rigors of flight. He pulled out a pair and twisted the top off one. "There was no place to keep technician lubricant on board, and you can't work on one of these without it. Hope you don't mind 'em warm." A big hand extended out to Jo, offering the other bottle of beer.
This message was last edited by the player at 09:39, Wed 08 Mar 2023.

As his teammates tried to connect with the other members of the Raiders, Mike found himself alone on the berthing deck hunting through cabins until he found one of the last unoccupied twin bunks and dumped off the duffels, giving his big tech the bottom bunk. No sense in Dar ending up in the infirmary with a concussion from sitting up. Setting the case on his bunk, Mike flicked the catches and pulled out the guitar nestled within.

With one hand around the neck of the instrument, Mike went searching. Every Union is different, but in some ways, they're all the same. Sure enough, at the end of one of the halls, he found an air filter intake with a sealed bucket next to it. Tucking himself into a corner against one of the structural braces, he flipped up the lid of the bucket to reveal the sand and butts within.

Two minutes later and the slender pilot was picking away at his guitar, soft music drifting down the hall as he smoked, blissfully sheltered from the mad world around him behind a wall of flamenco music.

OOC Edit: Something like this. https://youtu.be/D74-4dN5Iag?list=RDQM3VullBmME-M
This message was last edited by the player at 09:59, Wed 08 Mar 2023.

Jo listened to every word as Darius described the work he'd done on the helicopter. As he spoke, she moved around, seeking out the changes he mentioned, looking at how they'd been done. She hummed softly to herself as she went, nodding in approval. Even though she had had no real reason to believe it, her immediate impression of Darius had been one of competence. His work showed that her assessment had been spot on.

"Smart," she murmured, examining how the gun was mounted. Versatile yet stable, the possibilities were vast.

Fusion... it would be a game changer for the VToL. "Who needs an instruction manual?" she said with a laugh. "Let me help, as soon as we know we have a few minutes, and we'll get it installed and her flying again in no time."

Jo accepted the offered bottle, twisted off the top, and held it out towards Darius. "A toast? To new jobs and to new friends."

Darius looked a little abashed and glanced at the floor as Jo laughed lightly. His reply was almost too quiet to hear. "I do..." He brightened up immediately at the offer however, and his head came back up. "To quote a fine tech I met once... I thought you'd never ask!" Chuckling he clinked his beer bottle against hers and took a long pull of beer, sitting back with a satisfied sigh.

"To new jobs, new friends, and a new Ophelia."

Eileen was getting some food at this point, quick and edible was what she was looking for.

Minimum fuss and mess, so that she can back to work.

It was hard not to notice that Sabatino looked a little stressed.

"Is everything okay Sabatino?", she asks curious.

As Jason starts to check the meals he discovers that these are at least sort of current, their expiration dates set on 3052. Made up of some kind of mash and some indiscernible meat Sabatino doesn’t seem too pleased with the find, but it is at least food.
‘I know about as much about the colonelo as you do,’ he tells Jason as he looks around some cabinets for anything to spice up the food with.. ‘But he comes across as a decent enough man. Running a company like this I imagine is much like running a cucina… stressful.’

He then hears the question coming from Eileen and throws his hands in the air in frustration.
Si, si, everything is okiedokie! We have five year old food, no spices, and a ship full of people that need to be fed! Perfectly fine here yes!

---

Staring at his hand the giant elemental shrugs. He studies how the blood runs down his wrist while he listens to Nadia’s remark and watches as she ties the rag around it. When she’s done he simply states: ‘There’s a first aid kit in those blue cabinets in the hallways. There’s several on board. We don’t have a full medical on the Raider.’
‘And that is something we should remedy’ a man across him at the table states. ‘But I will have a look at that hand right now. I’m William by the way,’ he turns to Nadia. ‘The company doctor of sorts.’
He walks to the nearest bulkhead and opens the cabinet, grabbing a small medikit he then puts on the table. Quickly and with experienced hands he goes to work.
‘The trouble with Maximus here is that he doesn’t care about the pain, he doesn’t care about potential nerve damage, and he especially doesn’t care about whatever is going to happen if the fighting is ever over for him,’ Willy explains to Nadia. ‘His whole life he has been fighting…

Hand me those scissors please?
You see, their entire society works in a different way. For us, if we wish to grow ourselves, better ourselves, we strive to look for better positions. We climb the ranks based on our merits, our superiors recognise our skills or lack thereof, and we get promotions accordingly.
For them, that is not how it works…’
‘Trials,’ Maximus adds. ‘We have trials to climb rank. Win, and you gain power. Doesn’t matter if you are skilled. Only thing that matters is to beat the one that has what you want.’
‘Yes,’ Doc Willy agrees. ‘So for Maximus here, a society without fighting… is not just unimaginable... It is impossible.'
There, all wrapped up. Try not to deliberately cut yourself again will you? It will likely leave a bit of a scar.’
The Giant shrugged.
‘Another one for the books then doc, got enough of those already.’

---

Alex didn’t immediately answer Candice as she asked about the date. It was only a moment of hesitation, but it was there. When he answered, his tone was less upbeat.
‘I’m only twenty-eight, there’s no way I could have had that helmet for fifty years even if I wanted to. The date is… It’s my father’s birth date. The helmet was his original. By the time I joined the Highlanders they didn’t put your birth date in your helmet anymore.’
He leaned into the cockpit and flipped a switch, causing the seat to unlock its links and balance only on the gyro to keep balanced.
‘There, she’s in your hands now essentially. The Mech itself is locked in the bay, but the seat will tell you her balance. Try to get a feel for her, keep her stable. Then when you get a feel for that, try it again with the helmet. Feel the difference. And don’t worry about getting a bit nauseous, that’s normal at first.’


---

Eileen thinks about that, "Its only ... a 24 hour trip, is that really a problem, people will be cranky about missing a meal here and there but they'll hardly starve over missing a day?  Is there really nothing left?", it would be short sighted to serve this much food 'now' if there was no food at all.  She had her camping field rations, and supplies, enough for herself to be in the field for a prolonged period of time, but she wasn't sure it was necessary or even welcome to offer at this point.

Jason shrugged, "That's what I told him. No ones gonna starve in twenty four hours. Just finish up serving those who haven't eaten and save the rest for one more meal later. We will get by."

The little guy was probably a great cook, but he sure liked to over dramatize things. Jason figured there may even be some supplies stored away aboard that were for the base but didn't want Sabatino to go looking. "When we get to base you can take stock there and then fix up something to make amends." Unless of course what was stored at base was more of the same, but no need to worry the little guy.

Eileen thinks about it and shrugs, "I actually brought a bunch of field rations and camping supplies with my part of my sign on bonus.  Along with my personal supplies, if i'm reimburse and if the Colonel can assure me that i can restock what i turn over at the base, i dont mind turning them over.  For such a short term emergency it should be fine.

Eileen shrugs, "They're only camping rations and my store of cooking supplies, but they're probably better than expired and rancid provisions that will put everyone in the sick bay for a few days with the runs."

Nadia smiled a little as William introduced himself and sat back as the older man took over tending the wound in Max's hand, just absorbing the explanation for the moment. It was a very different concept, fighting for anything you wanted. The sort of society that violent men and women would build. Her mind was racing, but she watched the stitching with a critical eye, evaluating William's skill and finding it satisfactory. "Then it looks like you are probably who I'll be reporting to, William. Doctor Nadia Franz." She offered a slender hand once he finished stitching Max up.

Looking up at the gigantic Maximus, then back to William, she tried to ensure she had the concept. "So if I understand it... If, for instance, I wanted to be the company doctor. Speaking hypothetically, of course." A quick flash of a grin at William. "As a Clansman, I would have to challenge William here to a Trial and beat him in some form of combat to prove I'm a better doctor? It wouldn't matter if I actually was, just that I was able to club him over the head before he clubbed me?"

She shook her head, confused. "That sounds like a Maslow problem." Elaborating a little, she explained. "Maslow was an ancient philosopher, from back when we were Terrabound I think, who said. "If the only tool you have is a hammer, you tend to see every problem as a nail." A soft sigh. "I think I would fail in your society Max, because I took an oath too, when I became a doctor. An oath to Do No Harm. The same oath doctors have been taking since Ancient Greece. So no matter how fine a doctor I became, I would always be relegated to the lowest ranks of your society because my oath forbids me from undergoing these trials to gain rank."

Stretching out his legs, Darius gestured with the neck of the bottle towards the compact engine that powered Ophelia. "You've definitely got the touch for engines, Jo. Not something most ladies enjoy, getting greasy and dirty." He smiled broadly, a hint of teeth showing. "How'd you come to it? And what on earth convinced you that joining a merc company was the place to practice? A good tech could be making big bucks on Solaris or in a House maintenance corps."

The mech if it was not locked in place would probably have fallen over.  It takes a while to get the balance stabilized so the mech would have stayed upright.

Oh that is awful,  I really hope that gets better.  Nausea and disorientation is kind of an understatement.  I kind of got it a little better now.

Candice takes her time to do some small movements and other things she can do to get used to the mech.

Sorry to hear about your father.   Maybe if you knew what mech i would actually be likely to be assigned to, we could try that one sometime.

Jo took a long swig from the beer in her hand, then sat back with a contented sigh. "That is the most brilliant mod I've ever seen," she said lightly. "Compact and useful. Very smart."

His question ellicited a shrug, followed by another pull from her bottle before answering. "Well, I grew up where everything was dirty and greasy, so it's what I know. And engines have always kind of... spoken to me. Any kind of machinery does, really. I know that sounds ridiculous."

That crooked grin flashed again. "My learning is all hands on, the take-it-apart-and-hope-it-goes-back-together kind. No fancy schools or trainin', the big companies don't want grease rats like me."

Another sip, followed by a conspiratorial wink. "That's my secret, of course, and why I don't like instruction manuals. Half of it makes no sense to me anyways. But once I get my hands on the problem, I can always fix it, training or no."

She waved her hand, changing subjects. "Enough about me. What about you? How long've you and Ophelia been together? How'd you and your crew meet?"

Colin caught himself for the upteenth time as he stumbled over his duffle and personal gear. Every time he tripped, he had moved the stuff somewhere else only for it to be in the way again. Looking at the console status bar ticking slowly up, Colin figure now was probably as good a time as any to find a rack and store his personals.

Making sure everything was secure before leaving, Colin quickly got lost in the maze that was the drop ship. It wasn’t long before he heard what sounded to be music. He looked at one of the wall mounted speakers and confirmed that the Colonel hadn’t suddenly decided to add a soundtrack to the voyage. Colin followed the music as best he could. Soon enough he came upon the source, one of the VTOL crew if he remembered right.

Rather than interrupt the music, and spying the sand can, Colin gestured to an empty spot and waited to see if the man was in the mood for some company.

The big crew chief smiled "I don't think it sounds ridiculous at all Jo; some techs just have the touch. Met one or two in my time. As for me..." Resting comfortably against the bulkhead, Dar looked around the little chopper for a minute, remembering. "I suppose some of my story is like yours. Grew up dirty, Hoag's World, a completely forgettable dirtball up in the northwest corner of the Alliance." He said it lightly, but there was a note of pain in his voice. That whole sector of space was Clan territory now.

"Dad was a dirt farmer and shade tree mechanic, so I spent a fair bit of time when I wasn't shoveling sorghum holding the flashlight while he worked on the tractor. I thought we were kings, had the only tractor for fifty clicks, and Dad probably replaced every piece of that ol' Deere five times over while I was growin' up." He chuckled a little and drank some more beer. "And I wanted nothing but to get off that world, out of that life, so when I turned eighteen, I walked straight off the farm and into the Army recruiting station. Back in '46 or so." He grinned and shook his head tiredly. "Bought every one of their "Serve the Alliance and see the stars." spiels hook, line, and sinker."

Almost without thinking, his free hand was stroking the fuselage next to the door possessively. "Somehow, I ended up testing out well enough not to end up in the infantry and got fast-tracked into being a crew chief. Got assigned to Ophelia then, though she didn't have a name 'til Doc gave it to her. I... Well, I was going to do my tour, take my skills and go civvie, but around that time, the Clans showed up, and they weren't letting anyone end their term for obvious reasons."

"Ophelia and I got assigned to the 317th Search and Rescue Group, attached to the 19th Lyran Guard. Four Ferrets, pilots, medics, and techs. Just a dozen of us, but we flew a lot of hours during the invasion. That's when I met Mike and Nadia. Lots of medevacs, pilot recovery, and recon flights." Darius was rambling just a little. "You spend that much time facing death with only this..." He rapped the fuselage lightly. "Between you and it, you sort of get attached to it and everyone you live with."

He sighed softly. "After the Nineteenth got wiped out, the remains of the 317th got dissolved, but rather than let them break us up, Doc leased Ophelia, hired Mike and I to run her, and we went freelance. Doing a lot of the same stuff we were doing in the service, just for pay. Emergency medical, ambulance work, firefighting, search, and rescue. We ended up on Moxley, and just about at the end of our credits when Mike found this gig." Dar drained off the last of his beer and set the bottle aside. "And then I met you." He laughed. "Which is the brightest point of a bright day."
This message was last edited by the player at 06:57, Fri 10 Mar 2023.

With a half-smoked butt hanging from his lips and fingers playing over the strings, Mike didn't hear the other man at first, only noticing him when he gestured at the open spot. He smiled and nodded, bringing the music to a stop for a moment so he could set the guitar aside. "Floor space is open to all, last I checked, friend. Pull up a patch if you want." He looked the wiry man over for a moment before offering a hand. "Michael Krieg, it's nice to meet you."

Colin returned the handshake, “Colin Browne,” he said as he sat and opened his duffle. While he appeared to be rummaging around for something, Colin continued the conversation. “Still trying to find my footing and a bunk. First time in a Union. Ahh!”, he exclaimed and pulled a leathery, cylindrical case out. He opened it and removed a well crafted church warden pipe and something to light it with. “Da’ always said to save it for the big occasions. Seems a life long contract as good an excuse as any,” he commented as he began to pack, light, and join Michael in a peaceful smoke.

Taking the opportunity to ash into the bucket, Mike picked the guitar back up as Colin got himself sorted. Nodding, he plucked a couple of strings, frowned, and reached up to twist one of the tuning pegs a little bit. "Yeah, I suppose this is a special occasion after all, isn't it?" Chuckling a little, he started to play again, softer now, so it didn't interfere with talking. "Your first time on a Union? If you don't mind my asking, what did Bubba," Krieg winced a little inside every time he said that name. "Hire you on as Colin?"

Maximus shook his head as he heard Nadia talk about her oath. He clearly had a different opinion.Tell me then, he said with a grim smile, Let's say I go down in battle, and you need to patch me up, but while doing so we both are attacked by enemies. Only way to save me, your patient, is to kill the attackers... What would you do then?
He waited patiently for Nadia to think of an answer.

---

As soon as we get home we'll probably start running patrols and recon, Alexander mused. We won't risk a brand new warrior on a risky mission though, so I'll make sure you get a protection duty. Likely start you off in a Commando or Panther. We won't bother you with either of the Urbies.
He laughed.
Start a new Mechwarrior in an UrbanMech and they'll soon want to quit entirely. Those things are the worst Mechs to be assigned to. Cannons on legs essentially. You'll see the Mechs soon as we get there. Who knows, if you prove to be as good in the real deal as you are in the sims, you can get the Rifleman...

Nadia didn't even hesitate, her dark eyes blazing with emotion. "I would tend to my patient until they killed me, Max." She shook her head. Did he think this was first-year ethics? "The same way I did every day I served on the front of the invasion. I carry no weapons; I never have. I only have training in how to use them because the Army required it of me."

She picked up the bloody survival knife and, using the same bandana that she'd used to tie Max's hand, started to wipe the blood off of it. "I served and fought, yes fought, for two years in an active warzone to keep people alive. I didn't always succeed. No doctor worthy of the title does. I've held a man's heart, and pumped it with my hands while he bled to death around us, trying to keep him alive."

Nadia's voice was cold, and severe, matching the disdain in her gaze. "I've touched death more intimately than any of your warriors can claim, and never once, not once, did I need a weapon to do it. There will never be a shortage of men willing to take up the power of a gun." She offered the big blade to Max, hilt first, not a tremble in it. "So you tell me, Max, who has more honor? The warriors willing to kill an unarmed woman for the crime of trying to save their enemy's life, or the doctor who is willing to die, defenseless and alone, trying to save a stranger's life."