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Front 9 - The Knight's Plight
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Front 9.1 - The States Union-Special Branch Part 1
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Major Moncha and Helt made their way down the narrow hallways of the Curadh's interconnected decks, passing by many fellow crewmembers all dressed in well kept black uniforms, with gleaming silver buttons and proudly displayed insignias of their ranks and positions aboard the vessel - All stopping to smartly salute at the major before promptly moving on with their duties.
Although the walls did indeed sparkle, Moncha couldn't help but remember how much brighter they had seemed just a few years prior - 'This poor girl's getting old I guess.'
As they neared the curving corner of the corridor the Major spotted a maintenance man in a set of grey overalls and a neat peaked cap. Despite having a panel of the wall taken down and his head submerged in the cabling and pipes beneath, the maintenance man remained well-kempt, his clothes free of oil stains and posture well held.
"Heh, Helty look at him - Even the repair guy's better dressed then you." Moncha jeered looking over at his young subordinates attire. Although Helt had the same black on black uniform as everyone else, he wore it only partially buttoned up and with clear crease lines from having been thrown off at the end of a day's work. Combined with his relatively scruffy brown hair (atleast compared to most others aboard the ship), Helt was one of the least pristine people on the vessel.
"What? That's bull coming from you major!" The young man shot back as his face grew red with embarrassment. Moncha reflexively looked down at his own attire, to which Helt grinned;
"I mean look at your jacket, who turns their uniform into a sleeveless, buttonless waistcoat with only that garish white T-shirt beneath."
He said pointing his index finger towards Moncha's chest.
"Th-That's different!" Moncha exclaimed back.
"Different how?"
"Well, ah, I'm an officer you know."
"Oh so officers get to ignore uniform regulations do they?"
Moncha glared unhappily down at Helt; "You've gotten very bolshy as of late, for someone who's only been here a couple of weeks kid."
Helt stuck out his chest proudly, "A few weeks on a ship in our line of work is a lifetime, you--"
"Pah! Like heck, I've been on this ship for nearly 10 years, now that really is a lifetime." Moncha shot back.
Helt receded a little in what might of been a childish pout.
They had excited the ever-winding silver corridors onto the upper balcony of the ship's hanger bay. Below them spanned a large but relatively boring room. Just about tall enough for the ship's mecha to stand (though not by much) and easily the width of a sports field, the droll space was filled with orderly lines marking areas for certain works and places for Vijaiks to be stood when undergoing repairs and so on. Rather then a lower level hanger, the Curadh opted for just the one wide room with two launch-ways against the far wall to the left and right, forming the whole place into a 'U' shaped affair.
In the bend of the 'U' directly beneath Helt and Moncha laid a large black diamond shaped machine, with a crystal-blue oval on its roof and an array of wires and coolant pipes running into said oval. Along the black diamond could be seen an assortment of score lines and indents for where the machine could fold out and sperate during battle.
Moncha had to admit that no matter how many times he saw it, the 'Fortress' came across as exceptionally imposing. Himself and Helt stood by the railing, looking down at two figures beside the machine - Both were of the same bodybuilder look as Moncha, if a few years younger then him - Each with the familiar platinum insignia pinned on their shoulder's of two small 'pilots' wings. The one with a deeply tanned skin-tone he recognised as lieutenant Gemon, the other with heavily gelled blond hair as lieutenant Yazan.
"What are those two doing down here?" Helt asked between glaring eyes.
Moncha averted his gaze; "Indeed, I wonder....Ahem, anyway like I was saying - A few weeks here is nothing compared to my time eh."
"Look it's not my fault I had to leave my ship, it was that red-devils fault..."
Helt grumbled unhappily.
Moncha laughed aloud, slapping the younger man kindly on the back;
"Right, right I'd almost forgotten how you got 'lost'"
"I did not! My Vijaik was damaged, it just kept floating further away from the fleet! They left me behind if anything..."
"Sure, sure kid. You make it sound like your mothership was destroyed but last time I checked the skirmish of the 4th ended in, oh what was it? Total victory for our side." Moncha said back.
Helt continued to frown as he spoke, "Ya but it was hardly a good win was it sir? We had two ships, they only had one yet we lost more mechs then them! Had the numbers been even we might of lost and that was despite us having the Casnels.
I still remember how fast it all went wrong - War had only started a few days ago, yet we come across this lone IAFS ship. We try capturing it when this crazy red Vijaik-heavy comes out of nowhere. I'm telling you major, that thing didn't move natural at all, it was insane!"
Moncha took on a more considerate look as he listened to the young man recite the story from a few months ago - A thought came to Moncha in that moment;
"Hey, those customs Neos you fought with 2 days ago, they had a crazy red mech too right?"
Helt's face lit up as if an epiphany had came over him, "Hey you're right! That mad one that kept attacking my Casnel even after the Captain told me to retreat - It said something too over the contact radio, about 'knowing' someone. I thought it was just mad but perhaps it was the same mech?!
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Is that even possible sir?"
The major laid a hand to his chin, "I guess anything's possible in this line o' work Helty. Still the reports say IAFS was complete wiped out back on the 4th, be a bit strange for that same pilot to of survived and end up fighting against us again."
"Well I'll tell ya sir, if anyone from that day could of survived it would of been them - Have you ever heard of a regular lone Vijaik beating a brand new Casnel? I bet even you couldn't take someone like that on!"
"Ha! You're not part of the regular old navy anymore Helty-kid, this is TSU-s we're a whole different calibre of pilot to what you are used to. I'll have you know I have the most confirme--"
"--kills amongst the five of us here sir? That isn't really a very big pool majo--, I mean 'Sir-Knight'." Helt interrupted playfully.
Moncha scowled, moving his waistcoat so to properly cover up his own pilot's insignia as alluded to by Helt's comment. Unlike everyone else's the Major insignia differed in a few ways, the platinum wings having a gold trim around the edges and a symbolic silver sword being laid atop the wings.
"Oh look at the time, Aren't you on duty right about now petty officer Helt? Actually about 3 minutes ago if I'm correct."
Helt turned pale, looking to his handheld rapidly; "Oh crap the captain'll kill me if she finds out! Why didn't you say sooner, ain't it your job to keep track of a subordinate's time?"
"Hmmm-M? I thought you answered directly to the captain herself young man, not me?" Moncha cooed back.
Before either of them could go any further they heard a faint hiss and then the sound of two grown men cheering & clapping like schoolboys;
"Woo, atta girl - Great show!"
"Absolutely nailed it Falcy!"
"Those idiots." Helt said from behind a palm to his face, Moncha did his best to suppress a grin as the two lieutenants below continued to cheer and whoop.
A few seconds later and the crystal coloured oval that sat atop the Fortress had raised to a 90 degree angle and out jumped a sight to behold. With long flowing light-blond hair down to her waist, an almost ghostly white skin complexation and a borderline hourglass figure - Out emerged the Curadh's newest pilot and resident, honest to goodness Magi, Petty Officer Falc.
She looked down from her perch at the two cheering men and gave the duo a little playful bow before hoping off the opposite side of the machine, landing daintily on the metal floor beneath. Wearing a skin-tight, white piloting get-up, minus the helmet Falc made her way to the rear of the machine from which emerged a taller and older woman.
Like most she wore a regular black TSU-s uniform but with a civilian insignia rather than a rank badge.
This second person nodded to Falc in the major's direction, causing her to turn around.
Helt froze for a second before waving hesitantly and calling, "Yo Falc, sorry I've got duty but er, good work out there!" And with that the young pilot half sprinted away.
Moncha chuckled, watching as Falc simply smiled and waved back in the young's man direction. He jumped down himself now and floated over towards his two subordinates, offering only a small nod in Falc and the other woman's direction, who by now had began talking by themselves.
Landing on the far side of the Fortress, Moncha walked up to Gemon and Yazan and in a voice loud enough for the whole hanger to hear said;
"Well lads, what are you two boozes doing here? Didn't know I'd started paying you to stand around lollygagging."
Both men grinned before standing proudly to a snappy attention & salute, "Right you are Sir."
Gemon said in a equally loud and boisterous tone, before more quietly adding;
"Nothing much to report Sir, all seems fine, above-board like."
Yazan nodded solemnly to back up the claim, leaving Moncha to sigh; "Nothing at all, really?"
He said back quietly.
Gemon shrugged and glanced to Yazan, who said in his usual southern twang; "They had her take alot of medicine before the simulation but that's all Sir, she didn't seem to be in pain or anythin'."
Moncha sighed a second time before speaking loudly once more, "Alright then, glad we have an understanding! Back to work with the both of you, on the double!"
The dynamic duo both nodded before bellowing a joint 'Sir, Yes Sir', and making off towards one of the hanger bays exits.
"Major, a moment please?" Called the voice of the civilian woman from the other side of the Fortress.
Moncha rose an apprehensive eyebrow at the sudden summons but quickly heeded it, hopping over the intimidating black machine and landing next to Falc who smiled at him pleasantly.
The other woman was someone Moncha was well acquainted with - Doctor Simmins. She had something of a permanent scowl on a face of about 40, with a pair of thin rounded spectates atop her nose and short jet-black hair.
"Ah, sorry about those two Doc - They're harmless really--" Moncha began.
"Hmm? Oh not them, I wanted to talk about Subj--" Simmins began then stopped.
'Still not used to calling her by anything but 'Subject A' hey doc?' Moncha thought internally.
Upon first arriving the good doctor had called Falc always by derogatory titles such as 'subject', until Moncha had lost his temper and grabbed her by the collar.
After that the Captain had intervened, apologising on his behalf and insisting the doctor use a comprise when addressing her subject.
"--About the petty-officer here."
"Go on?" Moncha replied softly.
"I understand you have filed reports insisting your displeasure at the petty officer being deployed by herself once we arrive at Station 9 yes? I would like you to forward those recommendations to me, so I might add my own."
The Major blinked stupidly, "Eh? But Miss.Simmins it's your people who want to send her out there alone in the first place!"
The Doctor rolled her eyes, wincing a little at the incorrect title usage;
"Indeed, my people may but I have no interest in seeing Our girl frivolously deployed out there. Just like you answer to this ship's captain, I answer to my superiors back home - That does not mean I share their opinions Major."
'Our Girl?! Who is this woman, she can't be Doc Simmins. An imposter! IAFS have infiltrated us with a perfect copy of the doctor, that must be!' Moncha thought to himself, genuinely surprised by the doctor's request.
"Err, right, I'll ah, I'll send those on to you I guess..."
"Very good, see that you do. Now then, Sub--. Ahem, petty officer, you are free for lunch, eat light then report back to me for your after-tests, Major I take it you'll supervise her until then? Oh and good job today petty officer." Simmins rattled off before pivoting on her heel, pushing her glasses into place and striding off with a folder of files under one arm, without another word.
Moncha stared slack-jawed watching the sleek middle-aged woman waltz off, completely at a loss.
After a moment he felt a light tugging of his waistcoat, turning he looked down at the sweet smiling face of Falc;
"She's not so bad really Mr.Moncha, she just has a different way of showing she cares." The young woman said in her delicate docile voice,
"Shall we go get something to eat? I'm quite famished."
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