2022-01-22: Guarded Is the Wounded Heart
- Log: Guarded Is the Wounded Heart
- Cast: Anser Vulpecura, Madelyne Embersteel, Nanai Miguel, Shelby Korts
- Where: Sweetwater Colony, Lagrange Point 1
- Date: 2022-01-22
- Summary: While putting some recently assembled testing equipment through its paces, Nanai has a chance to apprise three of her best pilots of their new agreement with the Shuffle Alliance. Everyone feels the caution of being misused again, though everyone copes with the thought very differently.
<Pose Tracker> Nanai Miguel has posed.
By Federation reckoning, Char's rebellion spanned six days of brutal and unpredictable fighting. By the reckoning of those who fought alongside the Red Comet, it lasted years.
It took years of careful planning to arrive at those six gasping days. These years were spent fast and slow, in skirmishes and intrigue, with confusion and clarity. A plot to overthrow the hegemony of the Earth Federation is not born easily, but it was born all the same -- here in Sweetwater Colony.
It is here in Sweetwater Colony that some of the rebellion's survivors have returned.
Three years have passed since the Axis operation. In those three years, Sweetwater saw martial law and government crackdown, but also lessened scrutiny and eventual disinterest. It may be madness in some eyes to turn away from a place that fomented such a momentous threat, but these eyes have no connection to the hands at the government's weighty levers.
Ultimately, Sweetwater is an impoverished collection of displaced people who scrape by with minimal resources. What happened was quite literally exceptional. It only took three years for these malcontents to become once again beneath notice.
It was admittedly part sentiment that guided Nanai to choose Sweetwater as their hiding point, but no matter how compromised her emotions may have been, she remains a dreadfully intelligent woman. They knew the heat had died down in Sweetwater while they were hidden in space with the other remnants, and they knew they still had contacts at the colony. If they were so weak as to be allowed to take advantage of familiar haunts, then so be it.
Official Federation military presence on the colony is scarce and remains predominant at the far end of Sweetwater's open-type section, near the main docking facility. At the other end, in the ramshackle and rough-hewn closed-type section, there is far less oversight. The occasional patrol when they put their mind to it, but they come in such large numbers and heavy gear that they are easy to elude. The sympathies of the civilian authorities allow this.
When Nanai finally felt it was time to again open the book on her scientific activities, of course it was in the closed-type section.
They have a large basement to themselves underneath a mixed-used commercial and residential block, located near the false colony wall area where they've hidden some of their military supplies -- namely their mobile suits. There's so much unregistered construction going on throughout Sweetwater (a necessity to house the ever-incoming refugees) that it has been simple to sneak in the materials they've needed. Over the weeks, Nanai and her assistants have begun to scrounge together the familiar sights of a psycommu lab.
"Alright... both of you can disengage the programs now. Don't get up yet. Give your bodies a chance to adjust."
One of those sights is the simulator chair. Nanai has managed to assemble two of them so far, and that may be all she can fit down here for the time being. They're like steel thrones, with bulky bases and wide armrests with modular control arrays sat in them, and atop it all a mounted helmet that houses a virtual display and psycommu interface.
Two may be all she needs, anyway. She has two star pupils.
The one-time director -- though some still call her that -- sits in an office chair behind a long workbench that is pulling double duty as a desk. She has taken to keeping her hair in a bun these days, and she's wearing her glasses again. With the labcoat over her civilian wear instead of a uniform, the experience is far more casual than it ever was during the rebellion days. Then again, some of those present were not around to see that.
Nanai keeps her eyes fixed on the monitor readout for a moment longer, and then rises to approach the simulator chairs.
"How are both of you feeling? Any pain or vertigo?"
<Pose Tracker> Madelyne Embersteel has posed.
It ain't really much of a thing Madelyne Embersteel has ever done prior to becoming best friends with Nanai Miguel, but simulations have become one of Maddie's favorite things to try out. Really, when she was growin' up they didn't have much by way of entertainment, and by now it's clear that Maddie is treating the whole thing as such, with a side of callous reckoning that poor Shelby will just have to endure. Fight fair? Hell no. Fight in good spirits? Absolutely. She has to do something to keep in good spirits, after all this would-be-electric-chair-turned-psychu-vidya-game //demanded// she be hatless and coatless and so she had those things in a pile. About the only thing she refused to part with was her gun, and her good spirits. Which she has often been spreading around with a banjo she found just the other day.
And given' that she'd be doing so much more singin', she's been practicing every chance she gets.
//Every chance.//
Even when in combat, or maybe especially when in combat, she can be found singin' the Sweetwater Side Four Blues. Which, really, is just an acapella version of some song or another she heard that one time at her cousin Ed's house. Always with important modifications. And so when she comes out of the program and she stops singing in her head, her vocal chords take over. "-had them apple bottom jeans" "Boots with the furrr" "Naynay got the whole system lookin' fer hurrr" "She hit the flo'" "Next thing you know" "Shawty got low, low, low, low, low, low, low, low"
Maddie blinks a bit when she realizes that Shelby has disengaged and the simulation has ended, and taking off the helmet she blinks, blissfully allowing her song to fade into oblivion. "Whatsat? Vertigo? Not a chance."
Maddie stands then, clearly disregarding Nanai's advice, takes two steps and promptly falls over, one leg kicking briefly into the air. "But I definately think I can feel the station spinnin'. Hey Short Skorts, how you holdin' up?"
<Pose Tracker> Shelby Korts has posed.
At the start, she was apprehensive of sitting in the chair. There's too many memories tied up with this sort of technology and equipment; even with the homey DIY touches of the laboratory cobbled together in the depths of Sweetwater, there are feelings she'd rather forget rather than process.
Inside the simulator, there's a certain sense of serenity. She has something to focus on, a goal in mind, a place to direct her attention and reawakening skills that have been left somewhat dormant in the few years since she returned to the colony. Here, the Noise is not as pervasive. Here, the Noise isn't as loud.
Unfortunately, it does mean she's able to hear Madelyne's entire concert in full.
Sliding the helmet off her head, Shelby Korts lets it sit on her lap for a moment, eyes closed as she pinches the bridge of her nose. It isn't Maddie's antics causing it, however, and her brow tics in a familiar, certainly documented manner as her six senses readjust. The Noise gets louder again.
When her eyes open, there's a little bit of tiredness in them, but that's nothing new. She's about to answer Nanai when she gets the question from another side, trying her best to push the flat line of her mouth into a small smile to the two of them. "Just the usual headache, Director. And, ... ah... a little nauseous." Shelby unfolds her glasses, sliding them on and blinking a few times.
"To be honest, it ...does feel better than the old calibration."
<Pose Tracker> Anser Vulpecula has posed.
What began as a suspiciously unlikely bedfellow has proven to be one of the most steadfast loyalists to the cause. Anser was little more than a journeyman mechanical engineer skulking about the Rewloola during the time of Char's ultimately ill-fated rebellion, and when the time came to defect, her appearance was likely met with a mixture of skepticism and suspicion - but the now-young-woman does good work, and even through the comparative hell of falling from grace and landing on Sweetwater, she's stuck. It helped that for the first several months, she was able to help bankroll some of the operations, but currency is fleeting when it comes to supplies, and her savings (considerable though they were), dried up rather swiftly.
Whether it's fixing small little nuisances around any flop that they come across - making small little optimizations like fixing that /fucking coil whine on the fridge/, or doing full service runs on the mobile suits, necessity and persistence have made her a force to be reckoned with, and she's easily a vital part of keeping the costs of repairs down.
She's not the sort who warms up easy, but three years can make even the chilliest personality thaw, though she's never been especially keen on talking about herself, she at least sees those around her as friends rather than coworkers, now. She's watching from a slightly elevated position, which isn't terribly uncommon for Anser. She has a way of finding the higher ground so that she can more effectively loom. It... may be the only way she can effectively loom, truth be told. She's swiping away at a handheld device, skimming through forums and perusing schematics, news headlines. There's only so much one can do to keep occupied while the simulations are running.
"If you feel nauseated, Korts, please, lean off to the side." She intones, carefully, looking up as the two begin to wind down, folding her handheld and tucking it into one of several pockets in well-tidied coveralls, "Hold a fixed point and breathe it out."
A beat.
"I really don't want to have to clean tinned meat out of a sim seat."
She really, really doesn't, and it absolutely would be her job to do it. Pacing along the length of the slightly-elevated catwalk, Anser pads on down to ground-level to stand next to Nanai. There's a height difference. A minor one. She looks up to the other woman, raising a brow, "...Sounds like there's plenty of room for improvement," She rests a hand on her hip, above her everpresent sidearm. "But at least it doesn't look like Korts is seeing triple, this time."
Her lips tick up into a smile, "...Though we might consider some sound isolation for Embersteel." She glances to Madelyne, "...Lovely voice, though." Her deadpan is so thick that it's hard to tell what's a compliment and what's a joke. This is how she is.
<Pose Tracker> Nanai Miguel has posed.
Nanai has heard this song. Several times.
Nanai has pretended not to hear this song. Again several times.
Sometimes, delusions are the only way to survive this cold world.
Nanai slips behind the console at the side of the linked chair set. It's no sooner than she's disengage the helmets -- they slide neatly up on the high chairbacks to protect the delicate psycommu interface from inelegant movement -- that Maddie is off to the races and also off to eating the ground. It's cold and metal. Carpeting was low on the list.
Nanai half-lids her eyes. Withering looks have proven useless on Madelyne Embersteel, but at least they make Nanai feel better.
"Maddie, a part of finding your capabilities is finding your limitations. None of us should be eager to find out what you're like with a concussion, least of all you."
Her gaze shifts over to Shelby, and her expression has softened even before she's done examining the other woman. She walks around the front of the chairs -- delicately stepping over Maddie -- to offer Shelby a hand.
"A little nausea is fine," she says, adding after Anser's advisement and dearest tinned-meat-related wishes. "It's your first time back with a psycommu. Tell me if it gets worse and we'll medicate."
Nanai turns her gaze down to Anser once the (diminutive, don't tell her) engineer is at her side.
"Once we have the clean room partition set up for the materials lab, you can hide in there while she's in the singing mood. Though..."
Shelby helped, Nanai begins walking back to the workbench-desk.
"...about that tinned meat. Do you all know Dr. Sayla Mass, the famous philanthropist? She was here for a fundraiser for the colony the other day. I had a chance to meet with her briefly."
<Pose Tracker> Madelyne Embersteel has posed.
It is with ever present celerity that Madelyne crawls towards her hat and coat, for a more comfortable pair of security blankets could never be invented to suit her. She'll make it to her feet eventually, dusting herself off best she can and cocking one hip to the side. "Good job Skorts, almost got me more than once. Did the singing help? It was supposed to put you at ease and lure you into a false sense of security over comms. All part of my cunning ruse."
When confronted with the idea of a conscussion by Nanai, Maddie squints. "Psssshh. Everyone knows concussions were made up by parents who wanted to keep their kids from havin' fun and doctors who wanted to charge for somethin' ain't nobody could prove! I'm tellin' ya just one big conspiracy. Besides, I don't know what you mean by limitations. Didn't you just hear Little Miss Mechanical Genius over there? Anser said I have a //lovely voice//. I've only really been singing ever since I found that banjo a few weeks back. Apparently I am just good at everything."
Maddie sniffs once and then perks at the current topic.
"We fixin' to get some more t'meat? Can't say I really know the Doc all personal-like, but she's got a reputation. No one trying to put her head on a spike as far as I know. Wait, what's this got to do with T'Meat? Other than makin' me hungry. And onory.... Hongory."
<Pose Tracker> Shelby Korts has posed.
"You sure did get me with it a few times. Definitely a tactic you should utilize a lot more in battle. With other people. And, thank you for the deep breadth of your concern for the chair," Shelby says, her gaze shifting from Maddie to Anser. Her tone is equally dry, but that's fair -- she's trying to not think about food right now.
Taking Nanai's hand as she stands up from the chair, the former Director will feel the tension and the brief full-body wobble before Shelby can truly get her bearings. Taking a breath and giving the woman a nod, her other hand slips up to grip the back of her neck. Report if it gets worse? "I will. Thank you."
Picking up her favorite, well-worn hoodie from the back of a chair, she's got it halfway on before she responds herself, first glancing over to make sure Maddie's on her feet with no further issue. "What did you talk about? -- I mean, if ... that's something we should know about. I can't imagine it was just about the food, or the blackouts."
<Pose Tracker> Anser Vulpecula has posed.
Turning that tempered smile up, up, up, towards Nanai, Anser folds her arms and lifts her shoulders once in a muted shrug. "I never said I needed a hiding place. Plenty of solutions for everything the world throws at you, if you keep an open mind, and an absurd amount of pockets." She dips her hand into one such pocket and briefly flashes some earbuds to Nanai while Madelyne is still getting oriented.
She cranes her head slowly to the side, and grinds out a sigh at Madelyne's words, one eye twitching briefly as though fighting the impulse to correct her. A battle she loses. "Nnn. No. Think of your brain as a big ball of ice in a glass of scotch, and any time you move it too sharply, it clinks against the glass. Clink against the glass enough times, and you get cracks that don't mend. Even if the ice was always going to melt, you concuss yourself enough times, it'll break apart and dwindle all the quicker."
She pauses and cradles her chin in thought, "...I think I've puzzled out your singing abilities and saddle-related inquiries for the Solstice just this very moment." No. She is not adorning the Solstice with a saddle.
She's not.
No.
Shelby gets a smile, "...What's good for the chair is good for the pilot. Both have to be in working order, or it all goes sideways."
The talk of philanthropy gets an owlish blink out of Anser, and she's quiet until the others have said their piece on the matter, "I'd normally think to be skeptical, but that's a hell of a name to be on Sweetwater. She's the type that gets results." Her words are tinged with approval.
"Did she get us an expedited shipment? Things are looking bleak. I think we're going to have to open the chocolate-flavored rations soon, otherwise." Her hand reflexively migrates down to her stomach, her lips twisting. The 'chocolate' rations are the absolute worst. They're always saved for last. Universally. No one involved in their creation, it seems, ever existed on the same planet as chocolate.
Ugh.
<Pose Tracker> Nanai Miguel has posed.
Nanai surveys Anser's earbuds. She taps the side of her head in deference to the engineering solution and leaves it at that.
Looking to Maddie, Nanai purses her lips. Wild calculus battles across her mind. The victory swiftly goes to not engaging Madelyne's conspiracy theory about concussions. Sometimes it is important to strike, and other times it's important to know when your foe is hurling dummy balloons out the window. Besides, Anser is already gleefully lasering away in counterattack.
"You're all right in a way. She's helping with supplies, and it wasn't just about the supplies."
Nanai bends over to look into the terminal. She types away -- session notes, probably -- but doesn't signal an end to the conversation. A history of underground civilian labwork breeds excellence in multitasking. The glare from the fluorescent lighting shines across her glasses.
"The fundraiser went well enough, but she's supplementing it with supplies delivered through untracked channels."
Polite way of saying smuggling. Nanai waits a beat for the implications to percolate.
"She's another contact with this... Shuffle Alliance. I don't precisely know what to make of it yet, but she seemed receptive to an offer to help with whatever it is they do. Organized vigilantism."
<Pose Tracker> Madelyne Embersteel has posed.
With a tip of her hat to Shelby at approval of her new battle tactic, she begins unwrapping something she took from one of her many coat pockets. Foil flays and she scoffs all through Anser's analogy, finally biting eagerly into Maddie's favorite ration: Chocolate, of course.
"Now look," She says with a mouth ful of delicious, one year out of date chocolate ration. "I ain't no fool. I'm a newtype. Which means my brain ain't made of ice. Naynay's scanned it! Using your example, my brain ain't even on the rocks at'all. Which means there's more room for whiskey. Whiskey that's mixing with everyone elses whiskey, and turning more delicious." Her voice turns almost ominous. A spark behind her crystal blues. "Maybe even mixin' with //your// whiskey. Which is probably why you're thinkin' about that saddle idea, because I was just thinkin' about it."
Maddie taps the side of her forehead with that 'think about it' kind of gesture to Anser before opening her mouth to take another bite of her ration. Which encounters a pause as she stares at the bent over Nanai.
Chomp.
Maddie tilts her head, grinning like an idiot for just a brief moment before the talk of smuggling rips her attention more in the direction of Nanai's words. "Wait, whatsit? Now that sounds like a behind I could, I mean, something I could get behind! How much did the Doc says she was willing to pay for our expertise? Now keep in mind I am willing to consider all forms of contraband up to an including slightly outdating T'meat as payment. Also what the hell is a vigilantism? Sounds like a disease."
<Pose Tracker> Shelby Korts has posed.
Shelby sighs only lightly, nodding at Anser. "Right, right. It's just been awhile."
Of course Maddie likes the chocolate ones-- of /course/. All this time working at a restaurant and Shelby still hasn't figured out how to make those into a passable meal, let alone a dessert. Her blue-eyed stare shows a bit more emotion than it has in the last hour, though a lot of that emotion is easily catergorized as 'dismay.'
"Then, ... they have some extremely deep pockets. That's not necessarily a bad thing, is it?" Shelby's arms cross, letting her weight shift with a slight cock of her hip.
"No, Maddie -- like, vigilantes. Like, they try to keep the peace even though they're not part of a military, or police force." Taking a step back, she sits on the edge of the psycommu test chair's seat, letting her elbows rest on her knees. It also gives her time to parse the idea of the saddle.
"So, what's the plan?"
<Pose Tracker> Anser Vulpecula has posed.
"Not giving you a hard time," Anser assures Shelby, lifting a hand to shift her black-dyed hair over an ear. The platinum roots are more visible now than usual, with the coffers running on empty. She turns her head at the sound of crinkling foil wrap off to the side, and recoils.
Maddie may as well be chewing on roadkill, the way Anser looks at her. The mechanic, who doesn't shy away from scraping oil and... various bodily fluids out of places they have no business being, full-on wrinkles her nose and retreats back up to the catwalk, both in order to regain her tactical height advantage and to distance herself from smelling the foul mixture of saliva on that wretched abomination masquerading as chocolate.
The subsequent words see the typically composed mechanic tossing her hands up, "People think the same things all the time! Not everything's a /Newtype phenomenon/. Besides, you're probably just thinking about it because it was /literally the last thing we talked about/. You'll add weight, you'll add drag, and then you'll fall off or we'll crash."
Bicker, bicker, bicker. It was almost better when Anser was stone-faced and quiet all the time, but... well. This has been livelier.
Turning her full focus pointedly back to Nanai, a bit of that old Anser seems to bleed back into her voice. "...Funds are good. Edible food is better. But is that who we are? Guns for hire for organized vigilantes with floaty objectives?" Her hands clench against the railing, and she mumbles tersely, "Sorry. I... know we can't be picky, and I'm hungry."
Bright red eyes track towards Maddie wolfing down the disaster ration, and she grunts.
<Pose Tracker> Nanai Miguel has posed.
"ReZELs can carry other mobile suits in waverider mode, can't they?" Nanai murmurs during a moment of distraction with her terminal. She taps a few more keys and straightens her posture with zero evidence that she realizes the conversational grenade she just handed Maddie.
The tawny-haired woman sweeps her gaze from one person to another -- Maddie, eager and brash; Shelby, curious and willing; Anser, cynical and pragmatic. Quite the spectrum.
Nanai's stoic expression, her constant companion during the rebellion, drops by fractions to show concern mingled with resignation. She reaches to her side to angle the office chair toward her and drops back into it. The wheels carry her back a few inches.
"I know this isn't..."
Her words fail her for a moment. Another thing that would have never happened while she was in uniform. The director bows her head slightly to remove her glasses and rub the bridge of her nose, eyes closed.
"Of all the connections we could have made, they seemed to be the most in line with... what we're willing to do. What we want to do. This Mithril group remains a mystery, but the crew of the Freeden has a long history of opposing Federation science crime and I don't see any reason to suspect that these gundam fighters are anything more than who they seem to be."
Another pause. Nanai sets her glasses aside on the workbench and returns her gaze to the other three.
"We all know that just stopping the symptoms only goes so far, but it's still something. They're most likely watching us and deciding whether to turn us over to the Federation for war crimes. If helping them gets us more supplies to Sweetwater and proves that we're working in good faith, then so be it. We can decide on our next move when we're in a more secure position."
<Pose Tracker> Madelyne Embersteel has posed.
There's a skeptical look thrown in Shelby's direction, as if she's certain that the younger Newtype is either trying to trick her or make fun of her. But maybe it's all the time they've spent in sims or otherwise getting used to each other's Newtyping Newtypeness that leads her to believe Shelby is being earnest. "For free?" Maddie almost looks offended. Not that doing things for free is an impossible idea to comprehend but KEEPING THE PEACE seems like a tall order to take on without some kind of compensation.
Like T'meat.
"Anser draws her attention as she beats that tactical retreat, seeking the high ground, and all through les petite mechanic's tirade against newtype mental power and Maddie's idea, the Earthnoid can't help but grin, waving a hand dismisvely. "Everyone knows if you go fast enough drag barely matters. 'Sides, you're such a good pilot that I'd never feel the bumps as we skipped past mach five, and hell if we were in space there'd be no bumps at'all, right? I have complete faith in ya. Just let me know when it's all ready to go and we'll give a quick straddle a try."
Maddie is many things, including bad at reading the room. In many ways she doesn't like to feed into whatever the prevailing sentiment might be. It's just her nature. Contrary is safe. No one gets close, and really when people are down maybe her being 'up' can make a difference. But as much as she enjoys her passive aggressive Anser-sparring, she can't help but slide down that slope of tiredf frustration as Nanai's words fail her.
Her ration-holding hand falls to her side, gripping the half-uncovered monstrosity like a resolute weapon.
Maybe it's that empathy she's always denied was there, and with a glance to the other too, her brows lift, and one corner of her mouth turns up. Thoughts about payment or any notion she might have to balk at doing something for the good of some cause slip away, all given over to the sense that this living tie that binds, Nanai Miguel, with some much burden, probably doesn't need any guff right now. Instead, Maddie speaks, her tone holding less of her inherited Texan twang and more of her home grown Georgian belle. "Well Naynay, I think that sounds just fine. We can go on out and help out miss Sayla, and this Shoofle thing, and maybe gain an umbrella to keep the sun off our backs all at once. A right good plan."
And then she smiles.
Half her teeth blacked out by chocolate ration bar.
<Pose Tracker> Shelby Korts has posed.
"It ... depends."
She just leaves it at that with Madelyne for the moment.
"Could probably even pull off an atmo-drop if you had a ballute large enough," Shelby adds to Nanai's remark, slipping her glasses off long enough to rub the bridge of her nose again, eyes briefly scrunched tightly closed. "Be a rough ride until you could get up to speed."
"All right," the Newtype says with a deep sigh. She also nods at Maddie, before looking back at Nanai. "I agree. If we show up and help with this, it'll be some good will that will get our foot in the door with the Shuffles. I can also put out feelers. ... I mean. Listen to them."
She makes a small gesture before her fingers rest at her temple, unconsciously rubbing. "You know what I mean."
<Pose Tracker> Anser Vulpecula has posed.
Apologizing twice wouldn't accomplish anything. She can't unsay the words, and so Anser Vulpecula clams up and lets everyone else talk, just like old times, her posture loosening until she releases her grip on the rail. She folds her arms, and lays her chin down them, observing the scene from on high, a youth in sullen repose, even if much of her annoyance has now turned inward.
Belts have tightened a few notches since they got here, and Anser? Well, Anser hardly had any notches on her belt to spare to begin with. Her soul and her body both are less weighed down by gravity than ever before. Would Char Aznable be proud? The gaunt machine that is Anser is running on muddied oil, and the last vapors of fuel, dark bags under her eyes from overdoing it for far too long, and getting by with it simply by virtue of youth.
Only when everyone else has spoken does the small mechanic nod her assent, "...It's logically sound. I don't have any better proposals that don't involve starving to death over pride, and that would make the last three years nothing more than a cosmic joke." She straightens, and stands tall.
Tallish.
"We've been doing what it takes to scrape past until now. Arbitrary time to be drawing lines in the sand, when it comes right down to it." It's not a second apology, but the intonation holds the intention of one. "...Didn't mean to drag the mood down. Food's good, right? Supplies? A foot in the door?" The forced optimism is half-hearted, but she's trying.
She is.
<Pose Tracker> Nanai Miguel has posed.
"Hm," is Nanai's response, a little exhale of air with an attendant hum.
She turns her head to look out across the length of the lab space, and the great emptiness that remains to be filled. Emotion drains from her face. Sometimes she gets like this, though usually it's when no one is looking. Now, perhaps it shows the depth of her thought.
Finally:
"Not your fault, Anser. We're all feeling vulnerable here. Except for Maddie."
A tight smile. She turns back to return her attention. This means that she ends up staring directly at Madelyne's 'missing' upper teeth for a solid three seconds, which are hopefully misunderstood by the other woman as being Nanai's careful consideration of her point.
"Yes. Well."
Nanai reaches blindly for her glasses, finds them on her first try, and slips them back onto her face. Afterward, she sits up and folds her hands in her lap.
"We've gotten in touch with some of our old contacts, including people who fled with us and left for elsewhere. We've put together enough of a transport network to move our mobile suits around the Earth Sphere with little notice. We'll be mostly stowing away on friendly freighter ships, but as long as we play it smart, it'll do the job. Planetside and back, if need be. They do seem predominantly located down there."
The tawny-haired woman rises from her seat and tugs on the inner edges of her labcoat to get it back into place. This seems to have an overall orderly effect that carries to her words.
"Maddie, you're the most familiar with... let's call them 'adventurous combat activities.' If the Alliance needs extra guns, I'm trusting you to make us seem useful. Shelby, if you want to get a feel for them as people, then I think you make a good candidate. There's shared history between you and groups like the Freeden."
Nanai's officious demeanor softens momentarily as she advises: "Take it slow. You haven't been on Earth in a long time and this will be a lot of new people. Remember what we practiced when it gets too loud."
She looks to Anser last. "Your help with the colony's building projects has been miraculous--" it's impossible to tell if that's humor "--but your expertise might be useful with them. If nothing else, talking shop with their engineers might open doors for us. If they ask anything about us supplying them with designs, tell me."
Nanai splays her hands apart to show the gambit she's played.
"That's a cautious approach. We get to know them just as they get to know us. Thoughts?"
<Pose Tracker> Madelyne Embersteel has posed.
Between Nanai's compliment on Maddie's lack of vulnerability and definately misconstruing Nanai's stare as something else (but not the something else she thinks), she offers Nanai a single fingergun, because the other hand is still holding on tight to her perfectly good chocolate ration. "Easily done." Says Maddie, when Nanai asks her to make sure she can be an extra gun, and prove their worth. "In fact, if you want, I can figure out which of their current lot is their best three guns for hire and take'em out. You know, wound them, at least. Then they'd need to rely upon us even more."
Maddie pauses a word here and there to contort her face in all sorts of ridiculous ways as she uses her tongue to scrape chocolaty goodness off of her teeth. "It's the same tactic I used to get the job to hunt //you// down, Nanai. Shot Tiff Bannon's foot right off, then they had to pick me for the job!"
Maddie seems to realize, perhaps a moment or two later, and maybe in the midst of psychic pushback that her plan may not be the best suited for the 'cautious approach'. "Or I could maybe just make sure I'm quick on the draw for'm, maybe even take the Draygun into some infantry style situtations, given how small she is. As for other thoughts, well I ain't the diplomat you are but if you want me to mix in with their people and strike up a card game or two I'd be happy to represent our little family here."
Maddie pockets her ration finally, barely folding the foil over. Pocket rations are perfectly fine for later. In the meantime she draws her revoler and kick open the cylinder to dumb the rounds into her hand. Into a pocket those go, and she carefully plucks new ones from her belt, clearly up to some new scheme of her own.
"Don't you worry Anser, you ain't got nothin' to apologize for and as far as being hungry in the short term goes, I've got a plan. A plan to Fix Everything."
<Pose Tracker> Nanai Miguel has posed.
Nanai stares blankly at Maddie until she stops talking about shooting at allies and starts talking about shooting with allies.
<Pose Tracker> Shelby Korts has posed.
Food is good. Supplies are good. Foot in the door. Shelby's thumb lifts at Anser and she gives two short nods with a small smile. "Right."
Nanai slips into lab-commander mode. Immediately, the pink-haired young woman's back straightens to attention in a manner that harkens back to when she was a very... different person. The Director is, of course, right: It's been a long time since Shelby's set foot on Earth, and she didn't exactly leave on good terms.
Looking somber for a moment, the pilot nods again. "Understood, Director."
And then, like a disaster elemental, Maddie talks about wounding them. Or playing cards with them. Or, or, or-- Shelby's head turns very slowly from Maddie to Nanai. She is very, very pointedly thinking: 'What. The. Frick.' That, and the perpetual wonder of just where Mesta Mesua /found/ this woman. "C-Cards sounds good, Maddie."
Shelby rises up from the chair again, hands sliding into the pockets of her hoodie. "I guess I should pack a jump bag, then. I'll stay ready to move if they call for us. -- That is, if our suits are okay to go, Anser... a-and I mean, I can wait if you want to calibrate the psycommu more, Director."
<Pose Tracker> Anser Vulpecula has posed.
Compliment or lighthearted jab, Anser's reaction is nothing if not predictable. The word 'miraculous' causes a subtle twitch of her eyes, but where before she might have coldly corrected Nanai, the frayed woman just acts her own age for once and bobs her head.
Maddie's first to speak - that's little shock. Anser tilts her head slowly to the side at her closing proclamation, and murmurs, "...I look forward to your proposal. I would like very much for Everything to be fixed." There's no removing the pedantry from the cynic.
Shelby's question is met with a thumbs-up. "As for the suits, I've been keeping them purring, even if I've been giving Sol the preferential treatment. She's the new girl. Has to feel welcome." Lucky Solstice. "You'll find them every bit as good as you left them, if not better. And if anything's off, I'll lend a hand."
She flits her attention back down to Nanai.
"For my part... things always need fixing, and branching out isn't the worst idea in the world. While we've been scurrying around playing defensively, there might be technological advances I can glean from them by getting my hands dirty. No one with half a mind would let a new hand work on something locked down, but sometimes there's test code left over they forget to purge from the test units. Markers. I won't make a show of it, or steal anything, it's just... well. If there's any dirty laundry, I'll let you know."
Her pragmatism is already compelling her to find the most beneficial ways to exert herself, even upon those who might take them in as allies. Anser chews at her lip, and murmurs, "...But more'n likely, the danger's the other way around. You know that." It's not a question. She looks squarely at Nanai, "If they're extending a helping hand, you can /bet/ schematics and plans will be front of mind for them. Until we know for certain where this 'Shuffle Alliance's guns are pointing and why, we ought to hold them close to the vest."
No one here assembled really needs any clarification on the dangers of putting weapons in the wrong hands is a Bad Idea. They've had literal years to discuss it, argue about it, debate it, and come to terms with it.
A madman with a large weapon casts an equally large shadow, and those who stood behind him oft-struggle to escape it.
Until someone extends a hand, leastwise.
<Pose Tracker> Nanai Miguel has posed.
Nanai shakes her head no to Shelby's last-minute deference.
"I checked your Jagd Doga myself yesterday. The psycho-frame has been shuttered. The funnels will still be responsive, but you don't need to worry about resonance or crystallization problems."
A look of reassurance flickers in her eyes. "We can remove the binders later, if you want. But, Shelby..."
The director steps forward and slips a hand onto the younger woman's shoulder. Her voice drops, but not so quiet as to be unheard by the other two present.
"Exit plan for every dock. Exit plan for every fight. If you're at risk of being shot down, back off. If you ever feel unsafe, get in the suit and run. We'll find you."
A gentle squeeze on Shelby's shoulder, and Nanai moves away. She takes a few steps around the other side of the workbench to collect some errant papers, and while doing so she looks up as she listens to Anser.
The subject matter is not lost on her. No, of course not. Of all people, she is the one whose heart plays host to this knowledge. Her expression tightens, her eyes narrowing as she looks down.
"Anaheim has the psycho-frame. So does Bakharov. Plus anyone they've shared it with. Until we can prove that this technology isn't merely another super-weapon..."
Tk, tk. The noise of Nanai tapping the edge of the papers on the desk to line them all up.
"No more."
<Pose Tracker> Madelyne Embersteel has posed.
For all her faults, Maddie really is trying to be helpful. After all a long line of decisions and habits that have kept her alive for an unlikely amount of time has gotten her this far, and it's hard to buck those instincts. Even if it means sometimes shooting could-be friends. But she'll hold back, for now, intent on shooting something else.
"Well don't you worry your little head my mechanically inclined friend, I'm your huckleberry. About'parts where I found that banjo I found some rats that were big enough to scare off the stray dogs that run wild just a few blocks yonder. I figure we don't need more than, what? Maybe four or five of those and we'll be into some rat burgers by lights out. If I get any more I'm likely to trade them for some rehydrated spuds and upgrade that spacer grade bread into a real bonafide bun. Now I can't promise much by way of fixin's but I've got some freeze dried JENE brand parmesan cheese under my bunk that I've been saving for a rainy day and and you know we got catsup packets from that fancy well-done steak place that's over by the docks, mirror-side. Anywho, shouldn't take more than a few hours. Any of ya'll want to join in?"
Maddie excitely looks between them all, her rock-salt rounds loaded, and her rat-finisher (aka, a hammer), taken from the toolbox behind one of the sim chairs.
<Pose Tracker> Nanai Miguel has posed.
Nanai remains holding the papers after her dramatic statement.
Slowly, surely, her head turns to look at Maddie while the other woman is going on
about
r a t b u r g e r s.
"Madelyne I swear on the Earth itself I will pay you to go to a restaurant instead of eating rats and calling it 'trail cooking.'"
<Pose Tracker> Anser Vulpecula has posed.
Anser Vulpecula stifles a laugh. Poorly.