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[Projeck37]

"Hey."

[IamanElfCollaborator]

"What did you mean by lost?"

[SOLDIER First]

Lionan returns to the main part of the barracks, still with his book.
He looks less confused. _{Baby steps.}

[Projeck37]

"You seemed like you were wandering around aimlessly... plus it doesn't look like that-" he points to the console, "-belongs in here."

[Dwarmin]

*thunk*

...

*thunk*

...

Tonya smiled ruefully at her skillzs. She managed to put a trio of knives in the painted bullseye with one underhanded throw. She took another drink to reward herself, and cast her mind back. Reliving the past was preferable to the monotony of the present. She wished more of her old friends were here. Too bad most of them had retired or died...and yet, some memories were stronger than others...

...

Years ago...

Tonya Aurelio had been enjoying her Saki in Yaogo, during a time of relative peace for the Madenhu Islands. Edon and Terralba were enjoying prosperous relations, and had actually done some mixed military exercises alongside one another. This was a long time ago...before the Terralban Right Wing Party (the Iron Eagles) had been swept into power following the disasterous war of the Bells...before the Edo Emperor's wife had been assassinated by a lone foreigner gunman, making the country more isolationist and hostile...small stones, making ripples...

Yaogo has been translated to her jokingly as 'You Go', since it was pretty clear that the Edon had begun to tire of the hordes of foreign soldiers visiting from their neighbor-they had politely begun to influence Terralban command to begin moving their men and women to the harbor town to expedite the process of their departure. Still, it was friendly enough.

Back to the Saki. She had alot of friends back during those days-enjoying the brief spell of popularity she had earned from the war, it seemed everyone knew who she was. Her current company was a charming young private in the Edo military...his name was Kajiyara Taisho. He was smooth, handsome and strong-in a lissome way unlike her countrymen, with jet black eyes and short hair. She liked saying his name. He seemed to like to hear her say it. They both only each others language haltingly, but the mistakes they made didn't inspire frustration-only made them laugh harder. They were so young back then...

"...So, you call this 'Saki'? What's that mean?" She had inquired gently, hands on his arm. He had smiled at that.

"...it's called 'sakE'...it just means clear liquor." he had said, his voice masculine, yet gentle. It was an interesting combination.

"Well, that makes sense. Tell me more." Tonya had said, eyes sparking with mischief. "...tell me more. How do you Edo boys treat a lady?"

...

The world dissolved back to the present as Tonya's knife spranged into the outer edge of the target.

"And then he said...We treat Ladies to more Sake...and he refilled my glass..." She said, laughing out loud, knocking back more of her whisky. They had quite a time. It made her sad their countries had gone to war, when peace has so much better benefits (she recalled these benefits fondly, especially when he had taken her into the beautiful Edon mountains to be alone)...she wondered what had happened to him. They had kept in touch for a few years, she recalled, then they had both gone off on their respective careers. Had he been sent to the front already? Or perhaps he had come out of retirement to defend his homeland...maybe he had been wounded...killed...or perhaps he had given up soldiering years ago, married, had children like her...

[Digital Hellhound]

'If I step in, should I expect a knife in my gut?' Rumman called out, knocking on Tonya's door. He stepped in with a smile a little too strained to be really happy. An unmarked bottle of dark liquid poked out from under his shoulder. He held a cigar in his fingers.

Rumman placed the bottle on the table before Tonya. He raised a scar-split eyebrow at the whiskey already there. 'I thought to offer you a bottle of Taraccan Rum. Foulest-tasting drink the land of Langen has ever produced, kicks like a Sraosha off its gears, and in sufficient qualities, makes you both blind and deaf. I felt I needed a sip... or two.'

He dug out another cigar and offered it. 'I forget - you smoke? Bad habit, but a man has to have one or two of those, eh! Steadies the nerves, I suppose.'

[Dwarmin]

"Rum..." She said with a smile, motioning for him to sit. "Taraccan? Is this a social visit, or an assassination attempt?" She said, flicking her hair (perhaps a bit self consciously) and chuckling.

She refused the cigar politely.

"A woman has her habits, too, but smoking isn't one of them. Could never stand the smell...too much like..." She shrugs, not wanting to finish the thought.

She took the bottle of rum and poured it into two shotglasses, pushing one over to him and raising her own.

"Shall we drink to the lost?" She asked him seriously, Tonya's light blue eyes (a sparkly shade of cerulean) clear and sober.

[Digital Hellhound]

Rumman grunted, sitting himself down. The chair groaned a little under his stocky bulk. He stared at his own cigar for a moment, then put it back inside its holder in his coat pocket with a sullen look.

'The lost get plenty of toasts already,' Rumman said, eyeing the shot. 'Why don't we toast to living to an age like ours? Sometimes I feel the youthful dead are luckier. I remember them the way they were... fast, clever, deadly. Likely they're all looking up now laughing at the old rust-heads still thinking they can play at war. I don't know. You think you're still fit for this, Tonya? You might be, but me... That battle... I should've figured out where I was needed sooner. Done something else than trail behind everyone else for the whole thing. I think... my glory days are behind me. It won't be Rumman Aulgotha remembered as the hero of this war, but some young hot-head with a death wish.'

He shook his head and leaned in. 'Well, I'll be honest, ma'am. Right now I'll drink to anything.'

[Dwarmin]

"Time for our glory is over, Rum." Tonya said, shrugging. "It was all a carnival game anyway, and the prizes stank. Run faster, jump high, push yourself into the breach...it wasn't worth anything, not really...just a few pieces of tin on your chest you wore to state dinners, where the civilians would look down their noses at you. Once had a kid no older than Miyo splash a bucket of red paint on me as I was walking to one of those dinners, some sort of demonstration. She called me a killer. How do you answer it? It's not exactly a lie..." She blew out some air.

"You chase the stars if you want, Rum-I know you never got your shot...I'm all dried up, though. Figure the only reason I'm here is to try to keep the death wishes from being granted...maybe that's just the old melancholy speaking...." She says, sighing.

"I've killed alot of people, Rum, you know? I don't even feel bad about it...much...but, I don't want to go to my own deathbed thinking that's all I ever did. I want to say I helped some people get out of this mess, is all. We can drink to youth, how about that?" She said, carefully.

Tonya had always known behind Rumman's easy-going exterior was a bitterness about being passed up for promotion, getting old, missing so much of his life in these wars. She was worried about him, as any friend would be...

[USEC_OFFICER]

7:23, 15/07/1904

As twilight turns into night, the activity at Calignac Base starts to wind down. Groups of soldiers, exhausted from digging trenches and defensive embankments all day, start to stumble back to their tents. However the engineers and mechanics will get no rest tonight, for the generators are running at max power to provide illumination for their work. As part of standard procedure, damaged parts are being swapped out for fully functional ones so that the mechs of the 25^th can be operational as soon as possible, and of course many technicians are also at the site of the earlier battle, to scavenge what spare parts they can find. Surprisingly the barracks for mech pilots is pretty empty at the moment. Even with the 24^th out protecting the Terralban engineers at the battlesite, only a handful of pilots are currently in the barracks. The curtain normally separating the barracks into female and male sides has been drawn back, allowing the gathered pilots to set up a friendly game of poker, using the chests for personal effects as chairs and tables. Off to the side a lone man fiddles with one of the stoves in the room, occasionally mumbling a few curses whenever his screwdriver slips or he bashes his head against the projecting stove-pipe.


Meanwhile an aide brings orders to Sergeant Tonya and Corporal Sean. Major Alvise Zunino, the head of mech operations for Calignac Base, wishes to speak to them about the recent skirmish they participated in. Such an order is hardly unusual for most mech commanders take an active interest in the capabilities of the pilots and officers underneath their command, especially since most battalions are rarely comprised of more than 50 mechs at any one time. Obviously such a relationship between officers and enlisted men is frowned upon by high command, but much leeway has always been given to the mech forces due to their ability to win battles and wars. Sean and Tonya's orders lead them to a small room in what used to be the town hall of Calignac. Most of the room's furnishings have been stripped away and replaced with a large table with four wooden chairs, two on one side and two on the other. One of the Major's aides is already sitting in the room, with a portable typewriter in front of him and a small biofuel lamp to his left for light. If it weren't for the wide windows at the end of the room, thrown open to catch what little light remains, his weak lamp would be the only source of light. "Please take a seat, the Major will be here momentarily," the aide says, gesturing to the seats opposite from him. The man spares Tonya and Sean only the briefest of glances, before looking back down at his typewriter as he makes sure that it's in full working order.


For those still training at the gym, though calling such a poor collection of equipment that seems more than it deserves, they are quickly interrupted by an infantry officer who opens the door and looks around at them. "What are you still doing here it's," he pauses to look at his watch, "Seven twenty-three, and I can't lock up with you still in here."

[smurfingtonthethird]

Sean shuffles in his seat uncomfortably, looking around absentmindedly at the furniture and the objects sitting on the desk.

[Dwarmin]

Tonya seems alert, yet at ease. It's nothing she hasn't been through hundreds of times before...

She pokes Sean in the shoulder. "Relax. This isn't a firing squad. He wants your AAR. I trust you have yours GTG ASAP?" Tonya says, with a cocky grin.

[smurfingtonthethird]

For a brief second, Sean looks shit scared, before he wises up and gives Tonya a glare.

"God damn i...Real funny."

[Dwarmin]

"Corporal, if you're going to rise in Mech Command you're going to have learn a very vital skill-the need to wait. The Major will get here when the tides of war allow it, no sooner. And when that does, you have to be ready to snap to attention. Preferably not fumbling papers and looking like you just wandered in here. Let him see no matter how long he makes you wait, you keep your cool. It impresses the Old Guard. You might not want to stay a Corporal forever, you need to learn these things."

[smurfingtonthethird]

"Fair enough, I suppose. Observing my surroundings is just a habit of mine."