Oh boy here we go I've been waiting for this

I finally caught up after reading the past 5 quests, I'm still really bothered about how anons voted to run away during that one time

‘Holy crud, I thought they killed you!’ he exclaims, drawing back and staring at you with wide eyes.

‘The Royal Escort is not an assassination unit, Ryosuke.’

‘That’s what they want you to think!’

You chortle as you step out of his embrace, before spying shaking head … and raising a hand for him to take. He does so, pulling you in for a surprising hug of his own—albeit one considerably more tepid that the one Ryosuke had put you in. He draws away soon after, turning a glance up at the titanic Yamato with an appreciative hum, setting his own duffel bag on the metal floor and taking a step towards the ship.

‘So this is the Yamato,’ Emilio lets out, impressed. ‘Big girl.’

‘COME ON, YOU TWO!’

You’d know that voice anywhere. You turn around to see Sanza and Memphis, the former scowling and the latter … as stoic as ever. As your eyes met, however, you find yourself—again—almost tackled to the ground … only this time, you actually did stagger. Sanza’s embrace isn’t as crushing as Emilio’s … but she wasn’t aiming for your lungs or ribcage. Her arms were locked around the organs of your lower torso.

‘S-Sanza …’

‘WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN?! DO YOU UNDERSTAND HOW WORRIED EVERYONE WAS?’

‘Yes, mother …’

You peer at Memphis, who only gives a small nod of acknowledgement. You return it, if only barely. It’s not long before Sanza lets go, although it’s not without a half-chop to your sternum which almost has you on all fours. Taking a deep breath, you survey your friends and—

‘Reinweld.’

Right, that was the last name that you’d put on the list.

‘Maldante.’

He was the only one dressed in his service uniform. Short sleeves, black shoes … and a distinct lack of a thick coat. Maldante throws you a look of surprise … and a small, respectful nod and bow, before turning his attentions back towards Reinweld. Sanza herself sets down her duffel bag and places her hands on her hips, curiously gazing at her surroundings, while Memphis curiously gazes at your person.

‘So it would seem that I was indeed being arrogant,’ Maldante starts. ‘Would I be safe in my assumption to follow that all of you are assigned here just as I am?’

Ryosuke scratches the back of his head, staring at the man. ‘Maldante? What are you doing here?’

‘I received an offer to join with the members of the 401st Named Chapter,’ Maldante replies, nodding. ‘Although, considering that they don’t have a name …’

‘They’re a recent addition to the roster,’ Memphis sounds, adjusting her glasses. ‘It takes a while for the database to update. I believe that they’re the first addition in the last twelve years.’

‘Who do you think our Knight-Commander’s going to be?’

You can’t help but smile at that.

‘It’s probably an accomplished Lance Commander no doubt,’ Maldante says sagely. ‘A transfer sideways to give them their own chance at command after a considerable tenure of service. There is no shortage of capable Officers deserving of the title.’

You really smile at that.

Emilio chuckles, glancing at you. ‘You think they’re going to be anything like Wray?’

Now they were just teasing.

>‘Let’s hope so.’ (Cryptic)
>‘I’m honoured that you’d think that way.’ (Reveal yourself)
>Shrug in ignorance
>Write-In

>>2524152
>>‘Let’s hope so.’ (Cryptic)

>>2524152
>Shrug in ignorance
>Try to hide the smug grin
>Fail spectacularly

>>2524152
>Shrug in ignorance

>>2524166
nah let's not give them too many hints.

>>2524152
>‘Let’s hope so.’ (Cryptic)

>>2524152
>>Shrug in ignorance

>>2524152
>Shrug in ignorance

File: Gerard.jpg (5 KB, 300x168)

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You really can’t help but play the role. You really can’t.

‘Let’s hope so.’

‘Don’t worry, bud,’ Ryosuke chimes reassuringly, placing a hand on your shoulder, ‘I’m sure that he wouldn’t care that you’re … you know.’

You give a quick nod, raising a hand to brush off his concerns; after all, you were quite sure that the Knight-Commander wasn’t that sort of person. Maldante gives your another nod, lifting his duffel bag and throws a—surprisingly—reassuring gesture of his own: a pat on the shoulder and a glance that tells something between sympathy and that he (sort of) had your back in this case. For someone that didn’t actually throw himself on the assigned chain of authority back then, it was … well, it was something. Sanza gives you another hug, following Maldante and Ryosuke in boarding the ship, while Emilio and Memphis began their own chatter about the possible Mechs that they’d be requisitioned on dock. Watching their retreating backs, you can’t help but think that you were missing—

‘Oh? You’re here?’

Not … what you were expecting.

‘Gerard?’

You turn your gaze to see Gerard, clad in his formal wear, complete with cap and lines, two large duffel bags strapped to his shoulder. You hadn’t seen him since … Rhysode. Since the night before the planet burned. You knew he was one of the survivors—one of the tentative survivors—from the attack that had to be treated for the SEED Bomb detonations, but he hadn’t really crossed your mind since. When you parted way with him, he’d been … somewhat dismissive of you. Although, that could have easily been due to the fact that he was enjoying company of the feminine persuasion. There was a rule to things, there.

‘Nice to see … you alive,’ you begin, awkwardly gesturing towards him. Why was he here? As far as you knew, your invite didn’t include him; you weren’t even sure he was going to pull out of whatever the Cloud Strikes had done.

It was a rarity anyone did.

‘Should’ve expected that you’d be assigned, I guess,’ he lets out, a little heavily compared to what his usual tone was. ‘I heard about what happened on Rhysode. Must have been enough to get you on board, huh?’

‘I suppose,’ you continue tentatively, ‘are you, uh … supposed to meet with someone here?’

‘Actually … I was wondering if anyone could tell me where the Knight-Commander was,’ he answers, causing you to raise an eyebrow. ‘I heard that the 401st was a new Chapter and picking up new soldiers and … I’m here to push an appeal for a pilot spot.’

You cross your arms, your risen eyebrow only raising further with the reveal.

‘I’m looking to join,’ Gerard continues. ‘Would you … happen to know where I could find him?’

>>2524391
>'You're speaking to him, actually.' (Reveal your post)
>'Wouldn't have a clue, really.' (Feign ignorance)
>'This is a little unorthodox an appeal, don't you think? How'd you even find out where to go?' (Question further)
>Write-In

>>2524398
>'This is a little unorthodox an appeal, don't you think? How'd you even find out where to go?' (Question further)

Who the arrogant cunt we reveled of duty and told to fuck off?

>>2524398
>'This is a little unorthodox an appeal, don't you think? How'd you even find out where to go?' (Question further)

>>2524405
nah, that was Maldante

>>2524408
Thanks boss, Fuck. I was hoping we got him killed.

>>2524398
>>'This is a little unorthodox an appeal, don't you think? How'd you even find out where to go?' (Question further)

>>2524411
beggars cant be choosers
we'll have to fix that shit somehow

>>2524391
>I’m here to push an appeal for a pilot spot.’
>‘I’m looking to join,’ Gerard continues. ‘Would you … happen to know where I could find him?’
This looks like a good opportunity to me. What else do we know about him that might make him a suitable candidate? did he get any experience in the past that we know of? Not to dis him, but maybe ask him why he thinks the Knight-Commander would accept him other than him being a new potential pilot.

>'This is a little unorthodox an appeal, don't you think? How'd you even find out where to go?' (Question further)

>>2524434
>This looks like a good opportunity to me. What else do we know about him that might make him a suitable candidate? did he get any experience in the past that we know of? Not to dis him, but maybe ask him why he thinks the Knight-Commander would accept him other than him being a new potential pilot.
The winning prompt will actually answer this question.

>>2524434
Gerard was the 4th of the 4 "aces" of our graduating class.

>>2524451
>Ashes of Rhysode VI
NO FUCKING WONDER I'M SO LOST! This is the Sixth installment of this quest! Fuck, now I need to go back and ready the other five.

>Gerard was the 4th of the 4 "aces" of our graduating class.
That sounds fairly impressive. With my limited knowledge I would guess he'd get a spot so long if hes not a cunt.

>>2524451
Ryosuke isn't really an ace. He is, however, an exceptional combatant.

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You get to the focal point of the matter.

‘This is a little unorthodox an appeal, don’t you think? How’d you even find out where to go?’

‘I asked around,’ Gerard answers, his shoulders drooping. ‘Not that it was that hard, of course … Rhysode burning, that … that had a lot mouths flapping, but when Princess Veilis announced that there’d be a new Chapter of the Aegis added to the roster, well … it was easier than following a trail of bread crumbs. I already had a few electives on administration and office command, so I knew who to talk to. It’s not hard science or technical when you’re actually educated on the subject.’

You can’t help but hold back the small chortle rumbling from your throat.

‘So it’s mail trail more than it’s a bread crumb trail, then?’

‘Gossip travels … and since the 401st is a brand new Chapter, I thought that they’d be more … receptive of those fresh out of the Academy than established Chapters,’ he explains further, ‘I mean no offence by this, but they took you on, right, so maybe I … could stand at least for a little bit of consideration?’

You’re not sure if he was being insulting or merely presumptuous with that statement, but Gerard hadn’t always been the most … socially-comfortable of your acquaintances. He was more Emilio’s speed, except without the occasional smart remarks to remind the surroundings that he was indeed a living-breathing human. On the plus side, he didn’t have anything against you for being from a Colony Fleet (although, outside of your landing on Rhysode, everyone had been pretty tolerant of you). On the other … you didn’t really know him outside of class.

‘I guess, but … you know my circumstances; how do you figure you’d stand out?’

He throws you a withering gaze.

‘I don’t mean offence by that, either,’ you elaborate, ‘but the Knight-Commander’s probably going to be asking you the same thing. And if you actually came down here looking for ‘em, you probably don’t have anything official to go by. So you’re gambling everything on one sentence and thirty seconds.’

‘How’s that your problem?’

And, of course, that was the other one.

‘It’s not,’ you continue neutrally, ‘but I’ve known you for years and I thought that I’d help you out here.’

‘I distinctly remember you getting a remedial grade during the Officers Primary.’

You count backwards from ten.

‘Then you can find the Knight-Commander all by your lonesome, then,’ you retort neutrally, crossing your arms.

‘Okay, look … I’m sorry, I … I’m … I apologize.’

You nod.

‘It’s been … it’s been a rough few weeks and I … I thought that I could put a convincing case through, but … I didn’t know how to get to them and this was the only way I could. I’m sorry. You’re here to take my shit.’

‘So you don’t even have a formal …’

‘No, I … I don’t.’

>>2524510
>'If you know standard procedure, then you'd know the Knight-Commander's not even going to look at your pad. You know how much of a breach from a norm it'd be, right?' (Remark)
>'Then tell me, Gerard, why is it so damned important for you to be part of the 401st? Why can't you wait in the reserves or get a transfer like everyone else? Why can't you accept that you might not even be 401st material?' (The Hard Questions)
>'Gerard ...' (Exasperated)
>'Man, you're a sad sack.' (Insult)
>'I can't help you. Maybe you can ask around, but I don't know where to find 'em.' (Lie)
>Write-In

>>2524520
>'Then tell me, Gerard, why is it so damned important for you to be part of the 401st? Why can't you wait in the reserves or get a transfer like everyone else? Why can't you accept that you might not even be 401st material?' (The Hard Questions)

>>2524520
>'Then tell me, Gerard, why is it so damned important for you to be part of the 401st? Why can't you wait in the reserves or get a transfer like everyone else? Why can't you accept that you might not even be 401st material?' (The Hard Questions)

>>2524520
>>Write-In
>you have the qualification to transfer to a good amount of different units, yet you want into a recently formed unit?
>you want to pay the Alliance back for what they did to Rhysode dont you?

>>2524529
>you have the qualification to transfer to a good amount of different units, yet you want into a recently formed unit?
It's a lot more complicated than that.

>>2524520
>'Then tell me, Gerard, why is it so damned important for you to be part of the 401st? Why can't you wait in the reserves or get a transfer like everyone else? Why can't you accept that you might not even be 401st material?' (The Hard Questions)
and this>>2524529
>you want to pay the Alliance back for what they did to Rhysode dont you?
it sounds like something smart to say.

>>2524520
>>2524544

>>2524551
I mean this

File: Rhysode Gerard.jpg (19 KB, 210x240)

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‘Then tell me, Gerard,’ you press, taking an aggressive step forward. ‘Why is it so damned important for you to be part of the 401st? Why can’t you wait in the reserves or get a transfer like everyone else? Why can’t you accept that you might not even be 401st material?’

‘I—’

‘I was assigned on merit. They put me up to this post because they thought that it was something taking a chance on. I had to take on two Squadrons of Alliance Military Mechs as an Active Lance Commander before they even considered me being anything more than a techie on a logistics-focused unit. I had to have warhead dropping and a city burning around me in a cockpit with a piece of my own Hellion lodged above my stomach sac and my skin cooking from radiation. What makes you stand up harder than me, Gerard? What?’

‘Because I want it more than you.’

‘Why?’

He looks away. ‘Because I deserve to be as much a part of the offensive as you do. I don’t know if I’m a better pilot than you … or a better officer, but I want this so much more than you do. If I just took my career and … and just went about it normally, like nothing happened, and put it behind me, then I don’t even deserve to stand as a member of The Aegis. I joined to fight … and you’re fighting. If nothing else, I deserve to fall to my knees knowing my death made your mission a success.’

‘Gerard …’

He takes a step back, squaring his shoulders. You can see … some form of emotion behind his eyes. Sadness … anger, something that is a mix of the two, making him tremble and grit his teeth as tries to hold everything in check.

‘I’m not asking you for … for your help or to push my case forward. If I’m not material, I’ll accept it, but before that, I … I do believe that I’m at least meant to be afforded the chance to present my case.’

‘That’s it? You want to fight? Die for the Empire?’

‘I’m angry,’ he mutters quietly … and you take it in in silence as well. ‘I … couldn’t do a thing on Rhysode. I was asleep and between the sheets. And when I was heading to EVAC, they … they couldn’t hear me. So when you were doing the fighting, I …’

You close your eyes, letting out a sigh.

‘But being angry and not doing anything about it … it doesn’t change a thing. I want to fight. I have my dues to pay … more than you have to pay, from what I heard.’

Running a hand through your hair, another sigh escapes your throat.

Debts had weight.

It was something you were familiar with more than others.

>‘Welcome aboard.’ (Allow him on board)
>‘This better not be just because Maldante and Emilio are here.’ (Pointed remark)
>‘You are a sad sack.’ (Insult)
>‘You need psychiatric evaluation. You don’t need to be on board.’ (Deny him)
>Write-In

>>2524618
>tell him to stick around and accept him

I just want this to be dragged on as long as possible

>>2524618
>>‘Welcome aboard.’ (Allow him on board)
>we will not let what happened to Rhysode happen again or go unanswered

>>2524618
>Ok, but you are going to be doing a lot of paperwork. As you pointed out I suck at it.

>>2524618
>‘Welcome aboard.’ (Allow him on board)
I still don't know much about our levely cast of characters here, but Gerard seems like he can be a decent lad, if nudged to the right direction.

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The clang and whine of machinery sounds around you as Gerard’s shoulders droop again. He chuckles, running a hand through his hair, throwing his gaze to the floor. You didn’t know Gerard that well. You’d been in a few groups with him, but … outside of some idle chatter over food, you didn’t know him. The counterpoint to that, however, was that you didn’t know Maldante at all and had deemed him worthy enough to endure the inevitable remarks that he’d send your way in regards to your conduct as a Knight-Commander. So, overall … outside of personal bias, you didn’t actually have anything that you could use to throw against him. The 401st was a new Chapter … and you’d brought people that you knew; people who you’d actually worked alongside or those that you’d seen put their actual hours in.

And whatever your opinion, you knew how good Gerard was saddled in a cockpit … or a simulation pod.

You gesture towards his bags.

‘Trying to get sympathy points … or are you just travelling prepared?’

‘It’s all I own,’ he reveals. ‘No sense leaving anything behind in the …’

‘Eventuality or the unlikelihood?’

He doesn’t answer.

‘I’m kidding,’ you clarify, chuckling. ‘You know … Emilio and Maldante are on board; I think it’d be a waste if the team didn’t have you to complete that particular connection.’

‘Does that mean you’ll—’

‘Welcome aboard.’

‘I, uh … shouldn’t I be talking to the Knight-Commander about this?’

‘Hm?’

‘No offence meant, but,’ he hesitates slightly, ‘well …’

>‘Don’t worry, I can guarantee you a hundred percent that I can convince him. And if I can’t … well, I’ll let you rename my callsign to Henhouse. Get on board.’ (Remain coy)
>‘You’re talking to him actually.’ (Reveal)
>‘You’re right. You should go look for him. He should be on the ship.’ (Cruel prank)
>Write-In

>>2524675
>‘You’re talking to him actually.’ (Reveal)

>>2524675
>>‘You’re talking to him actually.’ (Reveal)

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>>2524675
>>‘You’re talking to him actually.’ (Reveal)
"Behold, it is your commanding officer."

>>2524675
>‘Don’t worry, I can guarantee you a hundred percent that I can convince him. And if I can’t … well, I’ll let you rename my callsign to Henhouse. Get on board.’ (Remain coy)
HAHAHAHA THE FUCKER CAN'T PICK UP ON THE SUBTLE HINTS HAHAHA!!!!!!!

>>2524675
>‘Don’t worry, I can guarantee you a hundred percent that I can convince him. And if I can’t … well, I’ll let you rename my callsign to Henhouse. Get on board.’ (Remain coy)

>>2524695
It's a humiliating truth to come to terms too, to be honest. For a lot of people.

>THE LOGISTICS GUY?
>HIM?!
>THE GUY WHO LANDED ON REINWELD'S HEAD BECAUSE HE WAS TOO FAT?
>THE COLONY FLEET GUY WHO STUNK TO HIGH HELL?

>>2524675
>>‘You’re talking to him actually.’ (Reveal)
REJOICE, YOUR REQUEST HAS BEEN GRANTED

‘You’re talking to him, actually.’

‘What?’

You chuckle, slightly tilting your head up in smug satisfaction.

‘No …’

A smug smirk on your face, you make an affirmative sound, accompanying it with several nods of confirmation from your own person, gesturing towards the docked Yamato that lay dormant in its gravity-nest. Gerard shakes his head, raising his fingers to his temple, making a sort-of dying noise. Some kind of … last cry out of realization that he had somehow put his foot on a pedal of a vehicle that didn’t want to drive anywhere but into a ravine. After four years of adjusting yourself to his (mostly passive) demeanour … you had to admit it was nice to actually get one over Gerard Jetdom.

‘What?’

He sounds like a broken sound loop, reverting and replaying the same line, over and over again. You place a well-meaning hand on his shoulder … but can’t keep the smug look off your face.

‘No,’ he whispers, staring at you in disbelief. There is a finality to his tone, one that you’re all-too-eager to jump on, but … there were limits to the span of your enjoyment now that you were his direct superior. ‘This … this is—how? You’re …’

He trails off, the dying noise making a return to the fore.

You give him another friendly pat on the shoulder.

‘Keep up, Jetdom.’

It really struck you how much he resembled a struck puppy.

It really did.

END INTERLUDE — OLD FRIENDS, NEW WORLD

/-/-/-/

PROCEED?

>YES
>NO

>>2524815
>>YES
all aboard the train driven by an idiot

>>2524815
>YES
THE POOR PUPPY

If you guys are awake later, I'll be continuing at about 9 PM my time.

>>2524815
>>YES

What time zone are you in, mechanic?

>>2524971
I live in Malaysia, Player. Selangor, to be exact.

>>2524980
Ah, so you'll be running in an hour, cool.

Must be nice living in an Asian country where gunpla prices aren't terribly overpriced like they are in the states.

>>2524988
It is, if you can find a dealer that isn't trying to fleece you. Thing is, you trade in customer service for the price gap. I'm somewhat proud that my country has consistently had the world's top 5 GunPla diorama makers since the turn of the millennium.

File: Except with more scars.png (418 KB, 800x600)

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To your credit, you keep the chuckles down all the way up to the third level. Gerard doesn’t say a word, although he does throw you the occasional glance. You can’t imagine how he felt, truly. All those years and the first person to break the rank hierarchy was a Colony Fleet Inhabitant that he’d consistently outscored on the simulators. For a ship barely larger than the Greyhound, the Yamato was almost a maze … and spacious. You actually felt as though you’d stepped back onto one of your own fleet’s ships. High ceilings, minimization of the stench of metal …

‘Sorry, sirs, excuse me!’

You turn around to face what could only be one of the vessel’s officers. Thin-faced and gangly, he had about fifteen to twenty years on you, with scarred elbows and cheeks that betrayed a wealth of experience behind that easy-going exterior. He isn’t quite clad in uniform (you supposed everyone was still setting themselves up, so you couldn’t really hold that against him), with that white tee and the straps hanging from his pants … and that indicator of rank being the tags hanging from his neck that say that he is, indeed, a senior officer on board of the vessel, but you throw a salute up nonetheless. One that you find he … is rather clumsy in returning.

‘Yeah, you folks’re with that new Chapter we’re assigned, right? The … 401st?’

‘Yes,’ you answer formally, dipping into a bow. ‘Thank you for having us on board.’

‘Right, right, uh … do you guys, uh, happen to know where your Knight-Commander is? I’ve been looking for him, but the damn computers don’t have any of the imaging loaded up yet.’

You snort, crossing your arms over your chest.

‘Any reason you happen to be looking for him?’

You can feel the roll of eyes from your companion.

‘The Captain’s looking for him. He says he’s got a bunch of things to go over before launch.’

>‘I’ll go and see him myself. Do you mind telling me where I can find the Captain? Meantime, would you be able to please lead my subordinate to the Squadron domicile?’ (Leave Gerard to the Officer, find the Captain)
>‘Lead me to him.’ (Leave Gerard, go with the Officer)
>‘Can’t say I’ve seen him, sorry. You mind telling me where I can find the domicile?’ (Ignorance, go with Gerard)
>Write-In

>>2525031
>‘I’ll go and see him myself. Do you mind telling me where I can find the Captain? Meantime, would you be able to please lead my subordinate to the Squadron domicile?’ (Leave Gerard to the Officer, find the Captain)

>>2525031
>>‘I’ll go and see him myself. Do you mind telling me where I can find the Captain? Meantime, would you be able to please lead my subordinate to the Squadron domicile?’ (Leave Gerard to the Officer, find the Captain)

>>2525011
I'd be proud too. You build kits too?

>>2525031
>>‘I’ll go and see him myself. Do you mind telling me where I can find the Captain? Meantime, would you be able to please lead my subordinate to the Squadron domicile?’ (Leave Gerard to the Officer, find the Captain)

>>2525041
Used to. I love the new RG line, but I don't trust having my kits lying around anymore with my baby cousins running around. I think I lost about 12 kits to cousin-related accidents since 2008. What I build now I keep boxed under my bed. I'm waiting for a throwback kit; the new series don't inspire me in any way.

>>2525044
Yeah, I feel you with losing kits due to small children. I have a little brother who destroyed a good number of my kits. Locking the room and placing kits on very high shelves or inside locked glass display cabinets tend to do the trick, at least for me anyway. Kinda sad that your kits are hidden and tucked away instead of being displayed.
Sorry, hope I'm not derailing thread with gunpla talk

>>2525031
>>‘I’ll go and see him myself. Do you mind telling me where I can find the Captain? Meantime, would you be able to please lead my subordinate to the Squadron domicile?’ (Leave Gerard to the Officer, find the Captain)

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‘I’ll go and see him myself,’ you state, nodding. ‘Thanks for telling me and, uh … would you mind telling me where I might be able to find the Captain?’

‘Excuse me?’

‘I’m sorry,’ you apologize, chortling and giving a small bow. ‘I’m the … Knight-Commander of the 401st.’

He scrunches his nose, a look of incredulity coming over his person as he leans back to … scrutinize your claim. He looks you up and down, as if trying to register your claims. While you did feel his gaze to be rather … intrusive, you couldn’t actually blame him for being suspicious either. You don’t think you’d believe your own posting as a Knight-Commander, if you were being honest. The last month had blitzed by in such a manner every waking day had you feeling as though the whole thing was some kind of haze dream that you were in, trapped in that—

No, no … not now. Not now.

‘I apologize, sir, I … I’m sorry, I didn’t think that The Aegis made them so young.’

‘It’s quite all right.’

He immediately takes a formal stance, puffing out his chest. Dishevelled as he looked, it was amazing what the squaring of the shoulders and the jutting of the chin did to his profile. He actually looked like someone who had seen the dirt and grime of the battlefield more times than you could probably count. The dipping curve of his top saw more scars peppered on his chest, barely concealed by the white fabric.

‘Comm Officer Hecate Trelawney,’ he introduces himself, ‘Honor to meet the Hero of Rhysode.’

You feel your cheeks heating up at the proclamation.

‘Would you mind telling me where I’ll be able to find the Captain?’

‘Oh, right, sorry, uh,’ he scratches the stubble on his chin, turning his head up to the ceiling. ‘Sorry, a little scatter-brained. The Chief Engineer’s gotten a little pissy that he’s had to share some space with your Mech Technician … been a little swamped trying to sort everyone’s places out … uh, right, I’m sorry, uh, sir, um … I’m not sure if he said to meet him on the Bridge—that’s right up Elevator Shaft One, right to the Operations Deck—or his Office. That’s another level up, on the Officers Domicile. Sorry, sir.’

‘No problem,’ you accommodate kindly, gesturing to your companion. ‘Would you mind guiding the Ensign to the Squadron Domicile?’

‘You sure that you can find your way around?’

You chuckle, ‘I lived on a ship for a good portion of my life. I don’t think I’ll get lost before we even leave dock.’

As the words leave your mouth … you close your eyes. Good job on that …

‘Oh, your parents were military too, huh?’

You neither confirm nor deny his assumption.

‘Comm Officer, if you would?’

‘Of course.’ He nods, gesturing to Gerard to follow.

You stretch your arms overhead, letting out a breath; you hope it isn’t about overdue forms.

>>2525073
>[EXPLORE CURRENT FLOOR] (Level 3)
>Head to Elevator Shaft One

>>2525073
>Head to Elevator Shaft One

>>2525075
>Elevator Shaft One, right to the Operations Deck—or his Office.

>>2525075
>>Head to Elevator Shaft One

>>2525075
>>Head to Elevator Shaft One

The elevator hisses open. Several members of the crew step out in the same unkempt state that Trelawney had been in, not even throwing you a glance as they walk walk past you and into the corridor.

>Officers Domicile
>Operations Deck
>Secondary Deck
[YOU ARE HERE]
>Level Two
>Level One

>>2525107
>Operations Deck

>>2525107
>>Operations Deck

>>2525107
>>Operations Deck

>>2525107
>Secondary Deck

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The door hisses open, revealing a high ceiling and a corridor that was lined with members of the Yamato’s crew, actively chatting and discussing their own preparations prior to the launch. One the sides, you see several technicians doing last minute patchwork, replacing cables, checking the viability and level of operations available to each minor component. You glance around, spying several conference and ready rooms, their black doors shut but ready to be made for use should the need ever arise. There seems to be an upward slope to the level’s design … a certain sleekness that makes it feel more alien to you than the slightly-cramped lower floors, which were a mixture of corridors and offices and multi-purpose rooms and the like. It’s not hard to find the bridge. There isn’t even need for a door or a label. It’s a straight shot right to the end onto a raised level.

If the corridor looked busy to you, the bridge was activity incarnate. A large primary star map lay right in the middle of it all, flanked by two secondary navigation and triangulation references, the one on the left undergoing upgrades or updates, while the right was actually in use by the officers manning it … who appeared to be plotting a run of supplies. Port and starboard, officers lined the sides, running pre-launch checks of their own, manning consoles or stations and going over them with their fellow bridge officers. You let out a breath as you look around, finding yourself impressed by the level of organization going around. Even in this atmosphere, it felt like everyone had been designated, that no one was just standing around or tapping their fingers on the consoles for the sake of it.

You approach the star map, the host to a raised platform where … you find that two people were standing, undertaking what appeared to be a slightly heated discussion. One of them was a man with a large jaw and a red cap—both of them more noticeable than the thick blue formal coat that he wore, lined up right to his angles—with his arms crossed over a broad chest as he nodded rolled his eyes at the man across, who was the one doing most of the talking. He, too, had a cap … and a collar that went all the way up to his ears. He stood about an inch shorter than the other man, who, now you notice, was a person of considerable height himself. The former probably had an inch on you or so, while the latter appeared more … aged. You can’t make out their faces that well, however, as they appeared to be covered in shadow, thanks to the light from the primary star map.

The taller man raises his hands in exasperation, which … oddly, prompted a nod.

He makes his way down the raised platform and …

‘Ah, Knight-Commander! A pleasure to see you on board!’

He appeared to know you.

But … he wasn’t Captain Hacker. You don’t think that you’d … ever met him before.

>>2525157
>'I'm sorry. I don't believe we've met before. You would be ...' (Honest)
>'Yes, you ... too ...' (Play along)
>'I'm sorry, I'm in a bit of a rush. Is Captain Hacker around?' (Brush him off)
>Write-In

>>2525159
>'I'm sorry. I don't believe we've met before. You would be ...' (Honest)

>>2525159
>'I'm sorry. I don't believe we've met before. You would be ...' (Honest)

>>2525159
>(Honest)

Can't wait to tell Maldante that being Knight Commander is really giving us a bad case of dry dick.

>>2525159
>'I'm sorry. I don't believe we've met before. You would be ...' (Honest)

>>2525159
>>Write-In
Formal and honest, the guy clearly has seniority as well.
"I'm sorry Sir. I don't believe we've met before. Knight-Commander Reaver reporting."

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Your brows slightly furrow as you glance at his noticeably beady eyes. His face wasn’t bony … but neither was it full. There was a strange … heroic quality to his features. Every contour, every line, even that faint scar from his cheek to his ear, told a tale. One of frightful odds and last stands … and that through it all, this man had stood firm. There is no age in his clouded gaze, no; he looks straight at you with the intensity of a concentrated beam, but at the same time, with the flair and conduct befitting a man in uniform. There is no affable bone about him, if you were being honest … but there was something majestic and—at the same time—gritty about him.

That he was a meant to be challenged, but at the same time, it was a battle that you knew you wouldn’t win.

He takes your hand, giving it a firm shake.

The grip tells you that at least three of the fingers on that hand were artificial.

‘I’m sorry,’ you apologize, shaking your head. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t believe we’ve met before. You would be …’

He chortles, shaking his head.

‘You are correct that we haven’t met before,’ he indicates, ‘but I do know you. After all, it’s my job.’

‘Your … job?’

‘Commissar Kane,’ he introduces himself. ‘I will be your … well, I will be your Commissar.’

Your Commissar.

The man responsible for the evaluation of your career.

You can’t believe you’d forgotten that part of your new assignment.

At the back of your head, you can see Wray shaking his head in disapproval.

>‘I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t know.’ (Grovel)
>‘Forgive my familiarity, sir.’ (Grovel a little bit more)
>‘So you’re my … watchdog, are you?’ (Informal)
>‘I hope that I meet your standards, sir.’
>‘What were you discussing with … him?’ (Refer to the conversation he was locked in before)
>‘I’m sorry, but I’m in a terrible rush. Is Captain Hacker around?’

>>2525214
>‘I hope that I meet your standards, sir.’

>>2525214
>>‘I hope that I meet your standards, sir.’

>>2525214
>>‘I hope that I meet your standards, sir.’

>>2525214
>I hope that I meet your standards, sir.’
Nobody likes an ass kisser, but having a good professional relationship with the guy that makes sure we don't fuck up is a good idea.

>>2525214
>"Forgive my familiarity, sir. May I note that you're looking particularly handsome today? Is there anything I can do for you? Do your boots need shining? I can use my tongue if that's your preference, my lord."

MAXIMUM GROVELING
NO HALF MEASURES

>>2525214
>‘I hope that I meet your standards, sir.’

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>>2525233

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>>2525243
>Cain
>Wanting to be anywhere near the frontlines
>Ciaphas Cain, Hero of the Imperium
>Wanting to do anything but sit on a bombardment fleet sipping Tannae as the Necron Tomb below gets nuked on assignment

My disgust knows no bounds, player.

>>2525246
Excellent post, QM! Truly your writing skills are head and shoulders above the other lackwits on this board!

>>2525246
Deal with it.

>>2525246
>‘What were you discussing with … him?’ (Refer to the conversation he was locked in before)

>>2525214
Goddammit, now I am bemoaning the lack of a new Ciaphas Cain book.

>>2525276
There's a new one coming out soon if you didn't know.
https://www.warhammer-community.com/2018/04/25/brand-new-cover-art-revealed-apr25/

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A Commissar.

You don’t know why that particular detail had stretched beyond your immediate recollection.

No Knight-Commander, no Chapter was allowed to run free. Every Battlegroup, every ship … had someone making sure that the Emperor’s will was carried out. Every action was made under scrutiny: for good, for evil … all ultimately for the glory made in the Emperor’s name. Commissars were once known as Adjudicators … but some hundreds of years back, perhaps even a thousand, the name had changed to be more “formal and friendly”, according to doctrine. They weren’t emissaries of the Emperor’s will. At least, not directly.

They weren’t so much an organization, either.

Commissars were attached to Battlegroups or Squadrons depending on their seniority. All of them had the same job: to make sure that you did yours and didn’t embarrass the Empire doing it. While they didn’t technically outrank you, Commissars were generally seen as the Emperor’s disciplinary rod. A leash to pull on those that went that stretch too far with their dealings. You’d never met a Commissar before; but Wray had lectured them as a sort of necessary evil. A reminder of responsibility and the bigger picture of what your conduct meant. They were hardly the agreeable sort, if you remembered your notes, but this man seemed … amicable enough.

Which set more than one warning klaxon off in your head.

‘Commissar Kane. I hope that I meet your standards, sir.’

‘You’re a lot younger than I expect from Knight-Commanders,’ he regales, ‘Not that there haven’t been exceptions, of course … but you are the youngest one on the current roster, so I suppose I could give you some rope on that.’

‘I … will abide by whatever standard that you wish to measure me to, sir,’ you reply, nodding and squaring your shoulders. ‘I don’t expect any less … or more from you, sir.’

He throws a kind smile.

‘I suppose you wouldn’t.’

Kane rubs his shoulders and grunts, taking a step back.

‘I trust that you have everything sorted out on your end?’

There was no way around it.

‘No,’ you confess, ‘not quite yet, Commissar.’

He raises an eyebrow, giving off a light hum.

‘Then what are you speaking to me for? Get to it, then!’

You throw up a salute; one that Kane returns with a formal nod, turning on his heel before … is strikes you.

‘Excuse me, sir, I’m sorry, but …’

‘Yes?’

‘I’m sorry, but … I’m looking for Captain Hacker,’ you blurt out, before steadying yourself once more. ‘Would you … happen to have seen him pass by or …’

He looks thoughtful for a moment, before raising a finger, and speaking, ‘I believe that he’s in his Office.’

‘His office.’

‘Yes,’ Kane replies. ‘It’s on the level up—the Officers Domicile.’

‘Thank you.’

He gives a curt nod, turning his back to you and going on his way.

>>2525295
>Approach the Navigation Officer(?)
>Explore the Bridge further
>Approach the Officers going over the navigation references
>[HEAD TO THE ELEVATOR]
>Write-In

>>2525299
>>[HEAD TO THE ELEVATOR]

>>2525295
>[HEAD TO THE ELEVATOR]

Jesus is this a MUD? Go to the office

>>2525299
>[HEAD TO THE ELEVATOR]
>elevator music
https://m.youtube.com/watch?t=2196s&v=1sruEnQ9HkU

>>2525299
>Elevator

>>2525299
>[HEAD TO THE ELEVATOR]

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The doors open as it stops on your level. You step into it, a destination already in mind.

>Officers Domicile
>Operations Deck [YOU ARE HERE]
>Secondary Deck
>Level Three
>Level Two
>Level One

>>2525314
>Officers Domicile

>>2525314
>Officers Domicile

>>2525314
>Officers Domicile

>>2525314
>Officers Domicile

INVALID AUTHORIZATION LEVEL

You try it again.

INVALID AUTHORIZATION LEVEL

Great.

Just … perfect.

The Comm Officer appeared to have forgotten to tell you that that the Officers Domicile was accessible to officers only. You, the Knight-Commander, hadn’t been given your access yet. Which … now that you thought about it, was probably what this whole thing was about, really (although the absurdity of being up in an officer to talk about accessibility while the subject at hand was locked out of it did strike you). Regardless, for now, it looked like you were going to have to find an Officer who did have access. There were quite a few on the Bridge. Perhaps you could try there.

>Officers Domicile
>Operations Deck [YOU ARE HERE]
>Secondary Deck
>Level Three
>Level Two
>Level One
>Exit Elevator

>>2525338
>Operations Deck [YOU ARE HERE]
Go tell the commissar and ask for help.

>>2525338
>Operations Deck [YOU ARE HERE]

>>2525338
>Operations Deck [YOU ARE HERE]
get to the commissar

>>2525338
Maybe find the Comm Officer instead and get him to let you in. Can't look good to keep asking our evaluator for help.

You step out of the Elevator and back onto the Operations Deck, glancing around to see if the Commissar was still around. He wasn’t. You don’t know where he could be. None of the rooms seemed to have been labelled with his name … and you doubt that he would be using them, anyway. You take long, quick strides towards the bridge, finding it the same hive of activity it had been from before. The man that you believe to be the Navigation Officer is still upon the raised platform, going over the star map and scanning system after system, while the other technical officers went about the same tasks that they had been going over when you’d departed before. Everyone was still as engrossed in their work, it would seem.

But maybe one of them could help you.

>Approach the Navigation Officer (?)
>Explore the Bridge further
>Approach the Officers going over the navigation references
>[HEAD TO THE ELEVATOR]
>Write-In

>>2525338
>>Exit Elevator
wait isn't this the correct option instead of hitting the button for the floor we're on

>>2525374
>Approach the Navigation Officer (?)

>>2525375
I can read into player actions 40 percent of the time. I think what they meant was to exit the elevator.

>>2525374
>>Explore the Bridge further

>>2525374
>>Explore the Bridge further

>>2525374
>Approach the Navigation Officer (?)

>>2525374
>>Approach the Navigation Officer (?)

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You needed some form of access to the Officers Domicile. As much as you didn’t want to bother the man going over the star map (and knowing just what the weight of his responsibilities were), you didn’t see anyone else who was more approachable with your plight. As you step onto the platform, you see him passing over several systems, grumbling as he linked systems and points, only for the screen to throw an error back in his face, furthering his consternation. If the systems were anything to judge, he wasn’t so much plotting as much as he was trying to revise the updates that you had no doubt the ship had been fitted with, docking in Jordan. The barge was young; at least, that’s what you believed she was, judging by the relatively new architecture. Either that, or she was a throwback model … despite the plating said otherwise. She couldn’t be more than two-hundred years old at best, which made her top of the line by modern standards.

‘Why is it every single friggin’ type I have to go over this damn thing, I gotta go all the way back to the stinking Rims and realign everything from scratch? Damn thing’s confused, that’s what it is … thinks it’s stuck back in Old Man Henderson’s day, that’s what it thinks. No doubt about it. Tell them to memorize ten thousand friggin’ systems by heart, I tell you; lucky I’m not friggin’ senile already …’

You didn’t want to interrupt his rambling.

You’d seen Charters go berserk at a misplaced letter on a word on entry.

‘Sir?’

But perhaps he—

‘In the Emperor’s name,’ he growls, not even bothering to turn to look at you, ‘if this is about the ware patch … and anything but no, I swear, I will rip your lungs and liver out and throw them into the mineral converter.’

‘Sorry, sir, but … I don’t know anything about a ware patch.’

The first thing you notice about him is his pointed nose … along with the other angular properties of his features. He was considerably older than you were, carrying himself in a manner that reminded you more of a stern tutor. His ears were pointed and his brows were thick, the jaw attached to his person duller than your Commissar’s but possessing a blunt, harsh quality of its own. He didn’t have many lines or scars on his face, but his expression, nonetheless, told you that he was a person of precision, directness and that any time wasted of his was another mine to step on.

‘Oh? You’re not one of the technicians … ah, you must be part of that Squadron we’re picking up. Something I can—’

He halts his words, turning his attention back to the star map.

‘Patches! They keep putting patches!’

You raise a hand to get his attention again, but …

>‘Maybe I can help.’ (NAVIGATION NUT)
>‘I’m here to ask if you could give me access to the Officers’ Domicile.’ (Ask for permission)
>‘It’s, uh … nice to meet you.’ (Leave)
>Write-In

>>2525433
>Listen I was looking for someone to give me Permission to get into Officer's Domicile so I can talk to the captain at his request. That said I do know something Navigation, can I take a look at it while you're getting everything cleared up?

>>2525433
>>‘Maybe I can help.’ (NAVIGATION NUT)

>>2525433
>Maybe I can help.

>>2525433
>‘Maybe I can help.’ (NAVIGATION NUT)

>>2525433
>‘Maybe I can help.’ (NAVIGATION NUT)

Got to level up that navigation nut!

>>2525433
>Maybe I can HURT

>>2525433
>>‘Maybe I can help.’ (NAVIGATION NUT)

>>2525433
>‘Maybe I can help.’ (NAVIGATION NUT)

I didn't run yesterday due to the fact that I was preparing the sheets up for your missions and the like. I'll be back in business in ... less than an hour.

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‘Maybe I can help.’

‘You got experience running these things?’

‘No,’ you state truthfully, before donning a knowing half-grin and jabbing your thumb in the direction of the holographic display, ‘but I know that Yolstein’s and Sodom’s beacons aren’t meant to criss-cross unless you’re willing to tear apart about fifty travel-friendly systems in between.’

His nostrils immediately flare; you can tell he is indignant at the jibe … but he subsequently follows it up by taking a step back, gesturing to the console. You mumble an apology and give a nod of thanks, placing your hands on the console and bringing up the navigation base. Every star map had one. The “wrap and fold” of gravity that accounted for warp technology had to utilize it or the supercomputers couldn’t compile and finish the calculations. It’s why tachyon clusters were developed thousands of years ago; like friction before flame, everything had a process. So you build on the [i[navigation base, every jumping point a mere second and a half to realign; point to point, memory by memory. Even the you of fourteen standard years could have done this. After all, when your livelihood depended upon making sure those jumping points were accurate to the trillionth decimal, you couldn’t afford to be stingy with the details.

It was rare, but you remember the legends of blind warps and crews somehow ending up in the second layer of a dying star.

It takes about ten minutes, but you’re confident that you have the primary and secondary jump points rightly-coordinated. You step back, dusting off your hands as though you’d just been on a farm, smiling proudly at your handiwork. The Navigation Officer (Or the man you believe to be the Navigation Officer) steps back in to take a closer look.

‘That should do it,’ you declare, taking pride in your work.

The man goes over the visuals, turning cluster and system over … before letting out a breath.

‘Damn,’ he laughs softly, ‘that’s some fine work. Should hold us through until the next damned patch screwing everything up for us.’

‘I hope so,’ you joke, ‘I’d hate for a malfunction in the middle of a warp fold. I’ve kind of grown accustomed to, you know … being alive.’

‘Aren’t we all?’ he snorts, rubbing the back of his neck and turning to face you again. ‘Deck Officer Sagara Pentecost. Been on this barge for eighteen years. You sure you’re not my new tech wizard? Not that the job needs much, anyway … just a few kicks and flicks to keep us on course.’

‘No.’ You share in his humour. ‘I don’t think I am.’

‘How’re you so good with these things anyway? Usually takes about double the time for me to sort it out.’

>>2530160
>'I'm from a Colony Fleet. It's kind of basic knowledge for me.' (BACKGROUND: COLONY FLEET INHABITANT)
>'I'm just used to being around star maps.' (Vague)
>'Just tried my luck like everyone else.' (Divert)
>'I'd like to talk about that with you one day, but I'm kind of in a hurry right now.' (Urgent)
>Write-In

>>2530160
>'I'd like to talk about that with you one day, but I'm kind of in a hurry right now.' (Urgent)

>>2530167
>>'I'm just used to being around star maps.' (Vague)
>also, can you grant me access to the Officers domicile? the Captain wants to talk to me but my authorization hasnt gotten into the system yet

>>2530167
Supporting >>2530177

>>2530167
>>2530177
this

>>2530167
>>'I'd like to talk about that with you one day, but I'm kind of in a hurry right now.' (Urgent)
>>2530177
>>also, can you grant me access to the Officers domicile? the Captain wants to talk to me but my authorization hasnt gotten into the system yet

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You shrug.

‘I’m just used to being around star maps,’ you reply. ‘I mean, it’d hit my pride personally if I wasn’t able to pin those points together. I’m a little obsessive about that and, uh …’

You scratch your cheek. You suppose that now is as good a time as any; you had garnered a good first impression and you had a Deck Officer who probably had access. You could ask one simple question, one favour.

‘Sir, would you be able to give me access to the Officers’ Domicile?’

His wrinkles instantly deepen at your query.

‘The Officers’ Domicile? What for?’

‘Comm Officer … Trelawney, I think? He said that the Captain wanted to see me?’

Pentecost crosses his arms, his previously-friendly demeanour replaced by a frown of suspicion.

‘And why would he want to see you?’

>‘I’m the new Knight-Commander, sir.’ (Reveal your position)
>‘None of your business.’ (Snarl)
>‘I don’t know. Comm Officer Trelawney only said he wanted to.’ (Clueless)
>‘You know what? Forget it. Have a good day, sir.’ (Leave his company)
>Write-In

>>2530299
>>‘I’m the new Knight-Commander, sir.’ (Reveal your position)

>>2530299
>>‘I’m the new Knight-Commander, sir.’ (Reveal your position)

>>2530299
>>‘I’m the new Knight-Commander, sir.’ (Reveal your position)
Do we get a cool but ridiculously impractical helmet and mask to make it easier for Officers to recognize us?

>>2530299
>>‘I’m the new Knight-Commander, sir.’ (Reveal your position)

>>2530323
You have your tags.

They're just in your pocket.

>>2530299
>‘I’m the new Knight-Commander, sir.’ (Reveal your position)

>>2530351
No one will ever recognize that slightly pudgy kid as a Knight-Commander but everyone will know of that "douchebag Ace pilot with the stupid helmet"

>>2530392
Formerly pudgy. Savik (and your friends) saw to that.

I’m the new Knight-Commander, Deck Officer,’ you reveal. ‘GAIA-0401, call sign: Reaver.’

His eyes widen, but otherwise, every semblance of professionalism is kept. He looks you up and down, the wide eyes now narrowing into slits as he scrutinizes your appearance. You didn’t look any different from any Ensign looking to get his big score on his first day … not that there was any discernible (save for the emblems, of course, but those were on the way) difference in uniform for Aegis members, except for the Star Marshall. Except for the hat. You hadn’t received your hat just yet. There was apparently a waiting list due to a recent wave of Knight-Commander headwear going missing all over Imperial space. You didn’t even know that there were theft issues about until around a standard week and a half ago.

‘Very well,’ he declares curtly. ‘Come with me.’

You jog up next to him, straightening yourself a little bit more.

‘You’re a lot younger than I thought you’d be,’ he commentates, right as you move past a trio of staff members that throw up salutes before splitting to get out of your way. ‘So either we’re really desperate or what you pulled on Rhysode was nothing short of a damned miracle. Dumpster fire, that. Dirty business.’

The both of you arrive at the elevator doors, the big blue 01 shimmering in the light.

‘So did you really took down five Mechs on your lonesome? Just asking out of … curiosity.’

>‘Two, maybe three Squadrons. Eliminated three, disabled two with the help of a tank company. Third Squadron we took down, I had an active Lance.’ (Honest)
>‘You could say that.’ (Vague)
>‘Didn’t amount to much, anyway.’ (Bitter)
>Write-In

>>2530430
>>‘Two, maybe three Squadrons. Eliminated three, disabled two with the help of a tank company. Third Squadron we took down, I had an active Lance.’ (Honest)

>>2530430
>‘Two, maybe three Squadrons. Eliminated three, disabled two with the help of a tank company. Third Squadron we took down, I had an active Lance.’ (Honest)

>>2530430
>>‘You could say that.’ (Vague)

>>2530430
>>‘Two, maybe three Squadrons. Eliminated three, disabled two with the help of a tank company. Third Squadron we took down, I had an active Lance.’ (Honest)
>and through it all I was piloting a partially decommissioned Helllion with only a Heat ace.

>>2530444
I strongly advise against being the young dickhead officer who brags about his achievements if you want any other military figure to have a modicum of respect for you.

>>2530430
>>‘Two, maybe three Squadrons. Eliminated three, disabled two with the help of a tank company. Third Squadron we took down, I had an active Lance.’ (Honest)

>>2530430

>‘Two, maybe three Squadrons. Eliminated three, disabled two with the help of a tank company. Third Squadron we took down, I had an active Lance.’ (Honest)

>>2530430
>>Write-In
"Mostly dumb blind luck there, I had a lot of help from the local militia. It could easily have been me crushed to death under one of Kerensky's hangar or incinerated by the Alliance."

>>2530430
>>‘Two, maybe three Squadrons. Eliminated three, disabled two with the help of a tank company. Third Squadron we took down, I had an active Lance.’ (Honest)

>>2530452
Being vague is more likely to do that. By being honest, we actually credit the tank squadron for their part in our victories. This is likely to give Pentecost the idea that we will give the ship credit for any assistance they give, be it bombardments, escort fighters or extractions.

>>2530430
>>‘Two, maybe three Squadrons. Eliminated three, disabled two with the help of a tank company. Third Squadron we took down, I had an active Lance.’ (Honest)

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‘Two, maybe three Squadrons.’

The doors opening, you proceed to step inside. Pentecost presents his credentials—in this case, an access card with the Navy’s emblem emblazoned with a character displaying rank—to the panel as he taps the button on the module, which turns from red to blue upon the apparent familiarity of the object. As the elevator whines back into life, you find him turning his attentions back to you once more, as if he was actually … interested in further elaboration.

You decide to humour him.

‘I eliminated three mechs breaking out of Kerensky,’ you reveal further, stepping out as the doors slid open with a ding, Pentecost right beside you. Even with his eyes turning to the front, you can tell his ears were still perched upon your tale. ‘Took out another two with the help of a tank company and an escort fighter … and we cleared out Rhysode Alpha after that. That one I needed a full active Lance. I can hardly take full credit over the circumstances I was put into.’

The Officers Domicile was … spacious compared to the decks below. It didn’t have the ceiling of the Operations Deck; it didn’t even have a third of its width, but what it had? A lack of congestion. There weren’t many bodies walking these tidy halls … save for you two and the man at the end of the corridor that you could only surmise to be one of the ship’s janitors, cleaning up whatever stain had been left behind. It takes you a while to realize that it was a three-point apartment corridor design; two ends for work and one end for quarters, with faint lights and lines to guide the way.

‘I count eight mechs,’ he states, accompanied by a low whistle, right as you walk down what you had surmised to be one of the fancier parts of the ship. ‘That’s a shit-fire if I ever heard one, Knight-Commander.’

You snort, shaking your head. ‘It was.’

‘Did they really drop a warhead and a cloud strike?’

‘They dropped a warhead,’ you confirm, nodding uncomfortably. You didn’t like the reminder of being skewered and baking in the corpse of a Hellion. You were lucky enough to get out of that without any sort of mental trauma. ‘I was out by the time the cloud strikes came, though. Woke up several standard days later on an observation outpost in a neighbouring system.’

‘For a Republic, they’re not very people friendly, are they?’

‘Responsibilities are usually only due to the ones you’re beholden to,’ you quip, shaking your head. ‘To those that have no conscious, the appearance of adherence matters more to the entity than an actual compliance by a wide standard … and only then, only when it applies.’

Pentecost bursts into laughter, right as you stop in front of a heavy-looking door.

‘You’re definitely Aegis educated, if nothing else.’

He holds out a hand.

‘Honor to have you, Knight-Commander.’

>Shake it
>Don’t take it
>Write-In

>>2530543
>>Shake it

>>2530543
>>Shake it

>>2530543
>Shake it

>>2530543
>Shake it

>>2530543
>>Shake it

>>2530543
>>Shake it

>>2530543
>>Shake it

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You take his right, giving it a firm grip—one that he returns earnestly.

Exchanging acknowledging nods, the Deck Officer then turns his gaze to the panel by the door.

‘Deck Officer: Pentecost, Sagara. Lock Priority: wattlebird.’

The doors his open.

It’s everything you imagined a man of the Imperial Navy would have his room like. Achievements, consoles, stacks of pads on one side and an active projector display on the other, accompanying the rather ornate carpet, spread along the length of the floor. That thing must have cost as much as the operation system updates running … or probably as much as one of the engine interfaces, if you were feeling generous in your assumption. A model of a ship that wasn’t the Yamato was laid out right behind the grey desk that served as his workstation, along with a series of monitors that displayed everything from current reports to data compilations, all being streamed and fed through what you could only surmise to be the Captain’s own personal (or professional) entry point. It all looked busy … and at the same time, neat. It was a leg up to workplaces that you were exposed to; even your former Administrator’s.

None of those, however, catch your attention as much as the Captain’s two current guests.

‘Senpai!’

You had been wondering where Rosaria had disappeared to since you’d given her permission to scout ahead.

But it had never broken the niggling intensity of the thought of where Morrigan Fisher—who was stoically sitting in that chair in front of the Captain’s desk—had been the last month.

Said former Instructor stands up in salute, but otherwise, keeps her silence.

‘Knight-Commander,’ Captain Hacker sounds, bringing you back to reality.

Not knowing what to do, you fall back on your professionalism, throwing up a salute of your own.

‘Thank you, Deck Officer.’

The doors hiss shut as you step inside the office. Pentecost doesn’t follow you, leaving you to the mercy of the captain’s presence … and the burning questions that simmered in your brain with every glance at the woman that hadn’t said so much a word since she’d departed from the outpost.

>Write-In

>>2530623
Go greet the Captain I guess. We can talk to Rosaria and Fisher later.

>>2530623
>Nod to Rosaria and Fisher then get back to the Captain. "You asked for me? The elevators are not quite up to date."

>>2530637
supporting

>>2530637
going for this too

>>2530637
supportin

>>2530637
Supporting.

>>2530637
Supporting this.

>>2530637
Same

File: Captain Hacker.jpg (32 KB, 640x350)

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As much as you actually want to divulge Fisher’s absolute guts on her whereabouts, you had the stinking suspicion that that would be answered anyway. That, and you were in the office of Taymence Hacker, who would be playing host to you and your Chapter for the foreseeable future … and not paying him the respect he was indeed due would be getting off on a foot that you rather wouldn’t. You take a few steps forward, standing between the chairs of your seated (Morrigan) and one standing (Rosaria) members and throwing your chest up, squaring your shoulders and peering to the top of the Captain’s hat.

‘You requested to see me, sir?’

‘I did.’ He nods.

Taymence Hacker … was young. For his post, anyway. He had wide shoulders and a firm gut, a goatee and moustache combination that bristled with energy and a taciturn gaze that emphasized workmanship and methodology over name and prestige. Meeting the Captain before, there’d only been two, perhaps three sentences exchanged. You’re unsure if this was his first command, but you didn’t have it in you disrespect him by questioning … not after he had been so courteous in refraining from questioning your own lack of experience. You’d only held the post for two months, after all. He held about an inch on you; his body was suited more to that of a brawler than it was a someone in command … which only added to the factor of his intimidation.

He didn’t seem a cruel man, however.

But you didn’t want to assume too much.

‘And I was going to meet you on the bridge,’ he continues, clarifying his lack of presence. ‘But I see that you were able to find your own way up here, anyway. Which means that I will either have to beef up security or shoot someone.’

‘Sir?’

Morrigan laughs.

‘It’s a joke,’ Hacker clarifies, shaking his head and throwing a smile. ‘You’re young … lighten up a bit. Although, after what happened on Rhysode, I can probably understand why you’re still a little on edge. I was supposed to leave this for you, but it slipped my mind … and I couldn’t find any of your Chapter’s registrations updated, so …’

ACQUIRED: AUTHORIZATION LEVEL (G – EXCEPTION) – YAMATO
ACQUIRED: PERSONAL QUARTERS PASS (KNIGHT-COMMANDER)
ACQUIRED: ON-BOARD COMMUNICATOR, OFFICER FREQUENCY LOCKED

‘Thank you, Captain.’

‘Now,’ he continues, throwing Rosaria an unamused glare … for some reason or other. ‘To the next matter at hand, this young woman was found at one of the connector modules tapping through the lock-key recognition hardware.’

Rosaria’s cheeks turn red, but otherwise she says nothing in her defence.

‘She claims to be from your Chapter, but the only piece of identification that has on her person … is a civilian referral,’ Hacker raises her tag for all to see. ‘Is she who she claims to be, Knight-Commander?’

>>2530761
>'She is a civilian attache, Captain. She's also a ward apprenticed to one of my Officers.' (Confirm)
>'She is my ward and a civilian. She's not meant to be here in any operational capacity whatsoever.' (Confirm her innocence, leave her behind)
>'Never seen her before in my life.' (Lie)
>Write-In

>>2530767
>>'She is a civilian attache, Captain. She's also a ward apprenticed to one of my Officers.' (Confirm)

>>2530767
>'She is a civilian attache, Captain. She's also a ward apprenticed to one of my Officers.' (Confirm)

>>2530767
>>'She is a civilian attache, Captain. She's also a ward apprenticed to one of my Officers.' (Confirm)

>>2530767
>>'She is a civilian attache, Captain. She's also a ward apprenticed to one of my Officers.' (Confirm)

>>2530761
>>'She is a civilian attache, Captain. She's also a ward apprenticed to one of my Officers.' (Confirm)

>>2530767
>'She is a civilian attache, Captain. She's also a ward apprenticed to one of my Officers.' (Confirm)

File: You Need A ECO.jpg (63 KB, 320x240)

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‘She is a civilian attache, Captain,’ you confirm, nodding. ‘She’s also a ward apprenticed to one of my Officers. Memphis, to be specific.’

He raises an eyebrow, surveying her with increasing scrutiny. ‘Is there a reason that there is a civilian attachment to your Chapter, Commander? If I may look up a reference, it’s almost an impossibility for a Chapter to consider any civilians or private citizens as part of their composition. Wouldn’t there be a barrier in place to ensure that the only ones that you pick up would be the best of the best available?’

‘Technically, yes,’ you agree, nodding—both to the Captain and to Rosaria—before straightening yourself once more. ‘However, Rosaria was also scheduled to begin her apprenticeship under the late Instructor Fisk. He … was one of the casualties in the attack.’

‘How does that explain her attachment to your Chapter?’

‘In the crisis, she performed admirably,’ you state clearly, concisely … confidently. ‘Without her intervention, none of us would be standing here by now. However, with the … administration as it is, the recognition of her designation as an apprentice and an unofficial student of The Aegis was unable to be compiled. I took her in as my ward and my Engineering Officer agreed to take her on in Fisk’s place. The paperwork hasn’t come through yet, but … since our names aren’t even on the roster yet, I believe that for now, my word as her guarantor will suffice?’

You wear a nervous smile, hoping that he did.

As Captain, he had every right to throw her off her ship. Especially as she was merely a civilian and not so much a professional soldier.

He frowns, stroking his goatee … before nodding.

‘It will,’ he finally announces, much to your release. ‘I apologize for my harshness, Miss Spirance.’

‘Oh, no! It … It’s quite all right,’ Rosaria squeaks, dropping into a bow. ‘It was my fault. I … should have asked before poking through the modules, but … it’s amazing, really! I never thought that the Empire could actually retrofit software and hardware when it came to ships!’

‘I wouldn’t say that it’s revolutionary, but praise is always welcome.’

Rosaria turns her head down, scratching her cheek.

‘However, next time … perhaps you could have a senior Officer accompany you, instead of just wandering about?’

‘Y-Yes, Captain, sir!’

He waves her off, prompting her to sit down (albeit not without one final squeak).

‘Now, to the other matter … I understand that you are short one,’ he pauses, throwing a glance to one of the displays on his desk, ‘Executive Coordination Officer.’

‘Yes, sir,’ you declare. ‘I was told that they’d get back to me on the topic by … the next week. There’s a lot to sort out there.’

File: Why Would She Join.png (235 KB, 300x450)

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‘I know.’ The Captain nods again. ‘Which is why Lieutenant Commander Fisher is here to offer her services to you. She is a former member of a Named Squadron herself, I believe … I think that given the circumstances, it would be more more beneficial to all the parties concerned to at least consider her offer. Or we can wait the week you were promised, if you don’t think that she’s … up to the standard that you have set for you and your Squadron.’

He hands you a pad.

You glance at it, but you don’t really look at the contents.

You don’t need to.

Fisher does a terrible job of hiding her smirk.

‘Knight-Commander?’

>‘I’ll have to decline.’ (Reject)
>‘Well, we do have a … shortage. Better to fill it up now than to wait for the pushers.’ (Accept)
>‘And why would the Lieutenant Commander deem a new Chapter be worthy of her time?’ (Question)
>Write-In

>>2530880
>>‘Well, we do have a … shortage. Better to fill it up now than to wait for the pushers.’ (Accept)
might as well

>>2530880
>>‘Well, we do have a … shortage. Better to fill it up now than to wait for the pushers.’ (Accept)

>>2530880
>>‘Well, we do have a … shortage. Better to fill it up now than to wait for the pushers.’ (Accept)
never question why a woman wants things

>>2530880
>>‘Well, we do have a … shortage. Better to fill it up now than to wait for the pushers.’ (Accept)

>>2530880
>‘Well, we do have a … shortage. Better to fill it up now than to wait for the pushers.’ (Accept)
>I'm going to need to seriously memorize the regulations on fraternization between officers in the same squadron.

>>2530891
We have a magic mech?

File: Lieutenant Commander Fisher.png (97 KB, 310x223)

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‘Well, we do have a shortage,’ you concede, nodding to the Captain. ‘Better to fill it up now than to wait for the pushers to come through.’

‘The roster should be uploaded onto the database before we leave the dock … I’ve assigned your Chief Medical Specialist. I believe you requested a practical capacity for another member of The Aegis with that assignment? A Doctor … Urale?’

‘She’s not a Doctor yet,’ you chuckle, ‘but yes, I did.’

‘Well, I had to rifle through some rosters, but … I was able to pick someone out. Doctor Princeton Holmes should be on the prep floor if you want to see him. His office is right next to the infirmary.’

‘Thank you again, Captain.’

He holds out his hand. You don’t hesitate to take it, meeting his firm grip with your own.

‘We’ll be launching in a few hours,’ he states, drawing back his hand. ‘I believe that should suffice for you and your Squadron to get your bearings?’

‘More than enough, sir.’

It wasn’t, but … you didn’t feel like being negative before you’d even had your first drop.

‘Good,’ Hacker finishes up. ‘That’s all from me. Knight-Commander; Lieutenant Commander.’

The both of you throw up salutes, turning your backs and exiting into the corridor, Rosaria right behind you. To tell the truth, you had felt a little … off-balance since you’d entered that office. As if someone had been shifting the carpet or playing with the gravity panels all along the floor and bulkhead in some attempt to give you nausea. But … no, it was neither of that, really. It was nothing so complicated, nothing so … indirect.

‘Reporting for duty, Knight=Commander.’

Morrigan Fisher throws a coy smile as you muster all your annoyance into one glare, the door shutting behind you with a soft hiss and a loud thud and beep.

She definitely had some explaining to do.

END INTERLUDE – PLAYING WITH THE BIG BOYS NOW

/-/-/-/-/

PROCEED?
>YES
>NO

>>2530974
Yes

>>2530974
Y

>>2530974
>>YES

>>2530974
>>YES

>>2530974
>>YES

>>2530976
>>2530977
>>2530978
>>2530983
For those guys wondering, the "yes" will give you extra scenes with you talking with Fisher, while the "no" skips right to you reaching the Dropship Chamber.

>>2530974
>>YES
as one of my old animays said "Information is Ammunition"

>>2530974
>>YES
>>2531002
That's not anime though.

>>2531006
i know

File: Coy. Very Coy..jpg (70 KB, 550x779)

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A restrained groan expels itself from your person as the doors shut. You follow it up with a sharp intake of breath and a subsequent sigh as you raise your gaze to the ceiling, finding your cheeks tightening with every centimetre the elevator descends. Fisher and Rosaria flank your sides, the both of them humming independent tunes in soft volumes, uncaring for the harmony or tempo. To your right is Rosaria, who had been pretty much following you around acclimatizing herself to her new life as your subordinate and a subject of the Imperial doctrine … and to your left is Morrigan Fisher, who had left without so much as a spoken word to you.

‘Oh, what is it, Knight-Commander?’

The latter’s teasing tone catches your attention … and you immediately meet her gaze—playful and feigning innocence—with a glare that betrayed every emotion that you’d bottled up in the last thirty-four days.

The beep sounds, and the three of you step out.

You, more verbally than metaphorically.

>Write-In

>>2534485
>How are your sisters?

>>2534485
So what happened?

>>2534485
>How've you been?

>>2534488
supportin
>guess it took a while to get them settled somewhere?

File: That's The First Thing Yo(...).gif (1.52 MB, 500x250)

1.52 MB GIF

‘How are your sisters doing?’

For some reason, or other, you receive a flat stare in return for the query.

‘What?’

‘First time we see each other in a month and that’s what you’re asking?’

>‘Maybe if you didn’t leave without a word maybe I’d lead in with something more personal.’ (Sarcastic)
>‘They’re civilians. You’re a soldier. Priorities matter in the hierarchy.’ (Stoic)
>‘Well?’ (Press)
>‘You start and end a sentence with “sir”.’ (Stern)
>‘Forget I asked.’ (Angry, dismissive)
>Write-In

>>2534591
>‘Maybe if you didn’t leave without a word maybe I’d lead in with something more personal.’ (Sarcastic)

>>2534591
>>‘Maybe if you didn’t leave without a word maybe I’d lead in with something more personal.’ (Sarcastic)

>>2534591
>I missed you too sweet cheeks

>>2534591
>Figured that'd throw you off. So what got you running off without a good bye?

>>2534591
Supporting? >>2534622

>>2534596
>>2534600

>>2534622
>>2534625
Flipping the coin.

File: I am a SOLDIER, Knight-Co(...).jpg (315 KB, 930x529)

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‘Maybe if you didn’t leave without a word,’ you reply crisply, taking a faster pace, ‘maybe, I’d lead in with something more personal.’

‘You’re saying that as though I have a choice in the matter,’ Fisher replies, her tone equally crisp. ‘Reassignment and limbo aren’t things that you can just shrug off and not answer. When the reply comes in, the choices aren’t maybe I’ll drop by his quarters for a few minutes and then leave or maybe I can try and get some contact details up. You answer; you get things sorted out. I don’t have the luxury of being my own sole responsibility.’

The words sting.

They don’t stop you, however.

You quicken the pace, eager to reach the Hull Levels as quickly as possible.

‘My responsibilities are to my family and to my work,’ she continues, the three of you manoeuvring past a few staff members walking in the opposite direction. ‘I’m sorry that you don’t factor into the immediacy of the call, but that’s the truth.’

You snort, straightening your collar … and feeling the creeping sense of anger coming over you.

‘Nice to know where I’m filed in that cabinet.’

She hisses out a noise, clicking her tongue in quick succession. The both of you come to a halt, facing one another with disdain. You were—you are—angry. Fisher hadn’t so much as put in a word through Memphis or sent you something that told you of the why or the where. You had been worried. For the last month, you’d wondered if everything that you’d given to each other that night was even real; that Fisher had … for some magical reason saw you as a chance worth taking. For you, with this essentially your first semblance of a proper relationship, it was …

You’re not sure if it meant the same to her as it did to you.

Or maybe you were just being presumptuous that Morrigan Fisher would value as anything more than the letter of her word. Coming from a Colony Fleet, getting fleeced on a deal wasn’t an occurrence you weren’t already expecting, even in the most intimate of transaction. It was just how living as an outsider in Imperial Space worked.

‘The day that red tape becomes an optional extra, I’ll be happy to perform The Imperial Responsibility* on my own schedule. I—the both of us, everyone—has a role and a duty to fulfil here. Out of all my students, you should be the one aware of that fact above all else. We’re soldiers; we’re beholden to the people!’

‘That doesn’t excuse you just … up and leaving! You couldn’t even leave a note for Memphis?!’

‘If there was a galactic crisis and you were called away to carry out your duties,’ she emphasizes her reference in tone, before scoffing ‘what would you do Knight-Commander? Knock on my door and give me a kiss goodbye?'

*You know what it is. Drop it.

>>2534934
>'You damn right I would.' (Serious)
>'You're right. This ... I apologize, Lieutenant Commander. I missed the mark on priorities.' (Concede)
>'Whatever.' (Scoff)
>'You know what? You're right. Maybe this should just stay professional.' (Break it off)
>Stay silent and fume the rest of the way
>Write-In

>>2534955
>I'd have at least had the courtesy to send a message via communicator or a note.
but
>'You know what? You're right. Maybe this should just stay professional.' (Break it off)

>>2534955
>>'You're right. This ... I apologize, Lieutenant Commander. I missed the mark on priorities.' (Concede)
know when to give and when to push

>>2534955
>'You're right. This ... I apologize, Lieutenant Commander. I missed the mark on priorities.' (Concede)

>>2534955
>'You're right. This ... I apologize, Lieutenant Commander. I missed the mark on priorities.' (Concede)

>>2534969
>>2534970
>>2534982
Great job making it worse guys.

>>2534955
>'You damn right I would.' (Serious)

>>2534960
Supporting this.
We're clearly not meant to be.

>>2534955
>>'You damn right I would.' (Serious)

>>2534955
>>'You damn right I would.' (Serious)

>>2534955
>>'You damn right I would.' (Serious)

>>2534955
>>'You damn right I would.' (Serious)

File: That Lady.png (453 KB, 730x1095)

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You sigh, turning your eyes up to the ceiling and letting out a breath. There was no use to this.

Not in that sense, but prolonging the conflict didn’t have anything for you to gain. Fisher was … no, perhaps it was presumptuous of you to believe that the matter would be so easily handled. You were the pup here—and she was the grown she-wolf, with the scars and the notches to prove her mettle more than you did. No, prolonging it wouldn’t do at all. You’d brought her on as a staff member … and you would have to draw on that experience if you so much as wished to further your chances of lengthening your state of approval with the Commissar. There were battles that you could fight and win, but like everything else … there are those not worth fighting at all.

This was one such conflict.

You put your emotion aside. You shouldn’t have brought that up before so much as suiting yourself up for your first drop.

‘You’re right, this … I apologize, Lieutenant Commander.’

That seems to relax her … somewhat. Rosaria, more than likely still clueless as to the topic of the conversation, looks at you, then to Fisher, then back again, as if trying to make sense of it on her own.

‘I missed the mark on our priorities,’ you state, rubbing the back of your neck, your shoulders slumping as you don’t meet her her eyes. ‘We’re … soldiers. We’re beholden to our duties … what we’re meant to do. Not what we want to do or … to wish for things to operate at our convenience. It isn’t … if we wanted anything else, we would’ve signed up for regular voluntary service. I am at fault for assuming that your responsibilities would … diverge. It’s selfish.’

‘I,’ she pauses, sounding hesitant, at a loss of words herself. There is, however, a distinct quality of … disappointment to it. As if she had expected more … or different. ‘I … apologize for my lack of respect for your station, sir. I didn’t … act befitting that of my station, if you would …’

‘No, no.’ You raise your hands. ‘I … respect your station and your position. I would like you to continue at your post. I didn’t … come in here expecting everyone to blindly agree with everything that I have to say.’

‘Of course, sir,’ Fisher replies, dipping her head into a respectful bow. ‘I will endeavour to do my best.’

The three of you stay in silence, walking down the long length of the corridor to the Hull Level Elevator, taking it down to the parallel levels (to the primary decks) above the Dropship Chamber.

This would be your theatre of operations, for the most part.

>DROP-SHIP CHAMBER EXPRESS LIFT
>MEDICAL OFFICE
>COMMISSAR’S (OBSERVATION AND RECORDS)
>PILOT QUARTERS
>YOUR OFFICE
>EXECUTIVE COORDINATOR’S OFFICE
>CHIEF ENGINEER’S OFFICE
>SQUADRON BRIEFING ROOM
>Re-Enter MAIN ELEVATOR [08]

>>2535183
>MEDICAL OFFICE

>>2535183
Just a reminder in case you guys forget: you visit Medical Office to move on with the plot.

>>2535183
>YOUR OFFICE
Might as well see our workspace.

>>2535183
>>YOUR OFFICE
lets go take a peek

>>2535183
>>YOUR OFFICE

>>2535183
>YOUR OFFICE

>>2535183
>YOUR OFFICE

>>2535183
>>YOUR OFFICE

File: Got It From Deviantart.png (701 KB, 1024x576)

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You enter your Office, finding it … bare. A table, a chair in a corner, some cabinets and displays that looked like they hadn’t been turned on in eons. They appeared to still be well-maintained, however.

‘Many Knight-Commanders put a more personal touch on their workspace,’ Fisher comments, crossing her arms and giving the place an uncharacteristically approving nod.

‘Personal touch?’

To your surprise, it’s not you that asks the question, but Rosaria.

‘Posters, musical instruments, artefacts of old, mementoes of their home-world … I believe there was a rumour from hundreds of years back that some of them even had poles for their slave girls. Chains and restraining bolts and everything …’

‘S-Slave girls?’

‘She’s joking, Rosaria,’ you say, throwing Fisher a flat gaze.

‘Well,’ Fisher chuckles, ‘I don’t think the Knight-Commander would fall into such petty indulgences on the job. He’s much too one-track to consider such frivolities.’

‘Oh,’ Rosaria sighs, touching the side of her neck.

You’re not sure if it’s from relief or … disappointment.

>‘So, I’m here … whenever I’m not in a Mech or in my quarters upstairs.’ (State the obvious)
>‘What can I bring and put up here? Anything I want?’ (Query)
>EXIT ROOM
>Write-In

>>2535324
>>‘So, I’m here … whenever I’m not in a Mech or in my quarters upstairs.’ (State the obvious)

>>2535324
>‘What can I bring and put up here? Anything I want?’ (Query)

>>2535324
>‘What can I bring and put up here? Anything I want?’ (Query)

>>2535324
>So what should I put up?

>>2535324
>>‘What can I bring and put up here? Anything I want?’ (Query)

You spare the place a glance. There was a lot of floor space here. If you had to make a comparison, you would say that it was at least the size of the cooking area back on the Colony Fleet. The table was set more towards the wall opposing the entrance than it was to the middle … and it was built into it, so you couldn’t move it as you pleased, either. The metal panels on the floor seemed to be installed firmly enough, so you didn’t have to worry about any amputated digits, but … all in all …

It was a big place, really. You were so used to sharing quarters that having something all to yourself of this magnitude was …

A little overwhelming, you supposed.

‘What can I put up in here? Anything I want?’

‘You have free reign here as you do with your quarters,’ Fisher states matter-of-factly, placing her hands behind her back and reverting to her old professional self. ‘If there’s anything that you want to put up and show off, this is the place to put it. Knight-Commanders usually like to display trophies of sorts to their peers and subordinates, so those are one of the things that you could set up. Anything to build up your reputation, however you wish to spread it. Commemorative physical image captures, tributes, you can put anything you wish up. Although … most Knight-Commanders choose to keep their workplace professional and organized, regardless of their inclinations.’

>‘I have a banner … could I put it up here?’ (BANNER: 199TH ASSAULT SQUADRON, CALBERTE)
>‘Right, thanks.’ (Ask about something else)
>EXIT ROOM

>>2535505
>>‘I have a banner … could I put it up here?’ (BANNER: 199TH ASSAULT SQUADRON, CALBERTE)

>>2535505
>‘I have a banner … could I put it up here?’ (BANNER: 199TH ASSAULT SQUADRON, CALBERTE)

>>2535505
>>‘I have a banner … could I put it up here?’ (BANNER: 199TH ASSAULT SQUADRON, CALBERTE)

>>2535505
>>‘I have a banner … could I put it up here?’ (BANNER: 199TH ASSAULT SQUADRON, CALBERTE)

>>2535505
>>‘I have a banner … could I put it up here?’ (BANNER: 199TH ASSAULT SQUADRON, CALBERTE)

>>2535505
>>‘I have a banner … could I put it up here?’ (BANNER: 199TH ASSAULT SQUADRON, CALBERTE)

‘I have a banner … could I put it up here?’

Fisher stares at you, incredulous.

‘You have a banner?’

‘Yeah,’ you reply, pulling it out from one of the pockets of your suit, ‘from back on Rhysode. I negotiated surrender and they gave me this and a Mech that Wray jacked right after. Could I put this up?’

‘If you want … of course,’ she continues neutrally, a slight stammer in both her step and wording. ‘Put it anywhere you want.’

You move to do so.

YOU HAVE DECORATED YOUR OFFICE WITH – BANNER: 199TH ASSAULT SQUADRON, CALBERTE

Fisher lets out a noise as the three of you step back to admire the first—and hopefully not the last—of Squadron Banners, set on your wall. It … wasn’t that fancy. In fact, it looked downright tiny compared to the huge amounts of space that it felt company to. There was nothing … ornate or unique about it; it was as you had observed before: simple, tidy … and no wasted decorations. Just a recoloured Alliance Military logo at the top and the Squadron Designation. It wasn’t a Named Squadron … but considering the rarity of Named Squadrons in the Alliance Military, you couldn’t very well complain. It was something.

Something to build on.

‘Well,’ Fisher starts, throwing you a mischievous look as she gestures to the newly-placed piece of fabric on the wall. ‘If nothing else, this’ll help you strike up conversation in bars.’

>‘I think I’ll settle for a Lieutenant Commander who’s not afraid to tug on the leash.’
>‘Probably.’
>‘What do you think, Rosaria?’
>EXIT ROOM