Futuristic Iron and Blood [Private]

[Nogoodname]

Jace chuckled faintly in response, giving a mock salute. "Yes ma'am~ I'll be on my best behavior" she teased, waving a hand to the bartender for yet another drink. Luckily, the raven haired woman wasn't in danger of blacking out just yet. She'd only just gotten started, sitting in that nice, fuzzy headspace between tipsy and full on drunk that let her take her mind off the shame of a botched mission.

Failure wasn't exactly a new experience for a pilot like Jace, it wasn't even uncommon, she'd gotten used to the sensation a long time ago. But still, this mission had been especially heinous. To get so close to her goal, having Gauge right in the palm of her hand, only to have him snatched out from under her without a chance to redeem herself. The sting to her pride was hard to just brush off, especially since it felt like the twist had come from nowhere, with Skeleton key somehow finding out about their ambush in the eleventh hour and showing up just in time to steal her kill.

The faint burn in the back of her throat as she took a swig of her drink was enough to bring her back to reality, letting out a laugh as she felt the woman's finger jab into her side, the grin reappearing on her face as if it'd never left. "Haaa, sorry, sorry~ it's my fault for bringing up work when we're off duty. We've got some downtime until the next gig, eh? Might as well try and enjoy it" she shrugged, resting her head in her hands and thinking for a moment.

"Why don't we talk about something else for now?" she suggested, ruminating on some sort of topic to get invested in, something that'd distract them from the elephant in the room, though Jace hardly came up with much of substance. To tell the truth, Jace didn't really know much about her squad leader, they'd only been working together for the one mission, and before that she'd only ever heard the woman's name mentioned in passing, it was hard to say they really had much in common...

Then again, that just might work in Jace's favor here. At the very least it'd be interesting, so she went for it. "Say, why don't we talk about you?" she asked, raising an eyebrow at the other woman. "Tell me about yourself, we hardly got to talking past a basic introduction before they threw us into that last op. If we're gonna be working together, it only makes sense that we know a little more about each other." she mused, curious to find out just how straight this woman's edge really was.

 

[TheRealAngeloftheStorm]

No shame in trying to drink your sorrows away, Louise thought. The only problem was that some people took it too far.

She let the glass rest against her forehead for a moment, savoring its coolness and driving away the onset of a headache. Her eyes fluttered closed again, chest heaving with a great, deep breath. No point dwelling on this situation. Louise came here to relax, not to ruminate.

One eye cracked open. “Myself? There’s nothing mysterious about me, just so you know.”

Refugees were depressingly common in this age of constant conflict. The Solar War between the Alliance and the Empire and the preceding Outer Colony Rebellions saw a lot of people back up from Inner Colony space and out into the wild Frontier. Far and away from the conflicts that became endemic to colonial space, people settled down, carving their own governments, their own polities. Even Corporate Space, the section of the Frontier they were in, still had to pay lip service to planetary sovereignty.

Louise downed her next shot and set the glass down. “I’ve been working with the Talons since I was a kid. Odd jobs and the like while rest went to war. Mom and dad got picked up as pilot and mechanic for them after they fled the Inner Colonies. That old thing?’ she chuckled, “It’s my mom’s. Don’t know where they found it, but it’s kind of a family heirloom. It’s showing its age, though. Two centuries out of service, and it’s all Kivotos can do to keep it relevant in a battlefield where mobility is key.”

The design philosophy that had led to the Alliance creating their heavyweights two centuries ago were woefully outdated. Speed over armor was key in the modern battlefield. But that was only in the hyper-competitive environment of colonial space. Out here, in the relative wilds of the Frontier, any mech could do. Old models worked with the new often.

“Mom grew too old to pilot, and I stepped up.” she said. “Been fighting for ten years now. Mom and dad’s still around, just pencil pushing for the Talons. There’s been a few close calls, but I always pulled through in the end. I got a few stories to tell.” Louise turned to face Jace in the eyes, letting the bartender refill her glass. “But enough of me for now. I know, just a primer - but we’re taking turns. What’s your story?”

 

[Nogoodname]

Jace gave a slight chuckle. "Might not be mysterious, but you're definitely interesting, a merc with two living parents and a decent childhood's a hard thing to come by, yaknow? Not everybody gets into this kind of business just for the love of it, and definitely not for the pay." she grinned, tilting her glass back and finishing her drink, letting it clink back down onto the bar.
She mulled the thought over in her head for a while. Louise's story certainly checked out, though it still felt.. incomplete somehow. Maybe she'd just been looking for something more dramatic, maybe the truth was really just that mundane. Still, she just couldn't get a sense of that drive in Louise that brings someone to become a pilot. Jace was looking for that fire in her eyes, the kind of burning determination that brings a person to decide that killing people for a living is a good idea, but everything just came back cold. Maybe that's just how it is with Louise.
The pilot cocked her head at her squad lead. "Oh, me?" she asked, giving a gentle shrug and leaning up against the bar, resting her head in her palm, the drink was clearly getting to her, but she wasn't about to let that spoil their conversation.

Jace paused, a brief mental calculation, those obsidian irises glancing back at Louise, she almost seemed to sober up a bit, almost. "It's nothin' special. I grew up on a colony in Gamma Porchil, little backwater right up on the edge of empire space. When the big boys came knocking we drummed up a little home grown resistance, weren't really big enough to catch the Alliances' notice, so we made do with what we had."

A slight truth wrapped in a pretty major lie, there was a Gamma Porchil, and there certainly had been a militia, but the side Jace had fought for? Very different. Not that there were any records to prove otherwise after the Empire burned everything.

"That's how I got the old girl you know and love, a group of us managed to bring her down, engineers sprayed the late owner out of the cockpit and patched her up, and I was just good enough of a fighter to do the honors of piloting her." Now that was a much bolder lie, the Wyvern was a newer model, it'd never seen service by the time Gamma Porchil had fallen. Jace felt confident telling it, though, who just keeps that sort of information pinned in their brain to fact check every mercenary they talk to?

She sighed softly, a well timed hint of emotion, from a story she'd spent quite some time planning out in her head. "Anyways, you know how this kind of story always ends, I got out after the colony fell, there wasn't really a militia to go back to at that point, so, I got into merc work. Been drifting between companies ever since."

 

[TheRealAngeloftheStorm]

When she finished her side, there was a glimmer of doubt reflected in her eyes. Perhaps Jace thought it was too mundane. Which it was; there was no grand, sweeping story of a woman looking to carve her name into history. No tale of revenge. Just a girl who grew up, had a mostly normal childhood and went into the same profession her parents had. Certainly not very exciting. Though it was mundane, it was a lot better than being smothered in the crib if her parents hadn’t fled the Inner Colonies.

There were more like her in the company. Children who grew up following the golden eagle as their parents fought for Kivotos’ ambitions. Most of them took up other positions, from doctors to logisticians. But there were a few of them who were harboring ambitions of joining the ranks for better pay. Kivotos, being the ever-generous backer, was very willing to provide new mechs to their star. An investment, two in one - more bodies to throw at their enemies, and a cheap way of getting combat data without risking important personnel.

Louise leaned back, letting Jace tell her own story.

A familiar tale, really. Falling into the cockpit, flitting between battlefields in search of a home. The Empire and the Alliance swallowed worlds unfortunate enough to be caught between them in their clash for hegemony over all mankind; Gamma Porchil, then, was simply one of those worlds.

Another shot. The beginnings of a buzz was starting to take hold, liquid fire running down her throat and setting her nerves alight. That was enough for tonight, then.

“Far more interesting than mine.” Louise murmured lowly. “And Gravity Spiral is quite the prize. Not something I’ve seen before.” A wan smile. “Though I’ve always had an appreciation for the classics.”

Admittedly, Louise was interested about how the story actually panned out in detail. But this was not the place for heavy talk. She doubted that either of them wanted to go home contemplative rather than happy. Maybe another time, in a more appropriate place.

She stretched, long arms rising into the air and a yawn escaping her lips.. “Still, we’re not exactly standardizing our mechs at all. Kivotos is giving us new mechs to supplement old ones, but most of ours are still First Solar War and Outer Reaches Rebellion stock. Easier to supply, but with parts running out, procurement is up our ass. Even Dire Star’s a bit of a stretch. I can’t imagine how difficult it’ll be to repair yours.”