2023-07-04: Victims of the Future

• Cast: Teletha Testarossa, Jezebel Richens
• Where: Merida Island
• Date: U.C. 0097 07 04
• Summary: An opportune pickup during a tense climax leads to a new recruit, a new ally, and a new unit for Mithril's forces.

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<Pose Tracker> Teletha Testarossa has posed.

Problems beget problems, but the appearance of a new GUndam (and the defense of the submarine during a stormy battle) was enough for Captain Testarossa to have it be pulled up alongside the flying machine; Picked up and hauled into the hangar deck without much of a hassle, keeping a strong guard outside of it until Jezebel was properly detained (Read: Coaxed out of the machine with assurances of no harm) and set into one of the empty conference rooms. No brig, but generally unrestrained and brought to the island with limited supervision.

With all the hustle and bustle of Mithril dealing with a 2nd compromised asset in just as many months, the Gundam itself was docked and inspected by engineers. Noted, catalogued, attempts at finding out the construction and origin of such an advancement, specifically noting the hardpoint capability. Out of respect, the insides were only checked over for contraband; There was no hostility, ergo, there was no need to have a heavy hand on someone's mobile suit, stolen or not.

Mithril processed as it always had, but its long-turning gears came to bear down on Jezebel soon enough. The usual requests: Name, nationality, where did she get the robot, are you willing to explain why you did what you did, the typical stuff for someone who decided to enter into a firefight and fight with them With this information at hand, Tessa entered into one of Mithril's conference rooms, the captive(?) in question having been brought only a bit prior. Guards stood outside, but overall, Jezebel had been allowed to keep her stuff, her survival pack, and everything except any sort of communication device.

The face of a tired teenager in a formal military uniform as she sat down across from Jezebel, glancing at a file folder she had, glancing over at the gal...And holding back a sigh. Being so formal was uptight, but she had to do this.

"Thank you for helping in saving my ship." Stilted. Formal. An attempt to crack at the uncertain surface. "...Why did you do it?"

<Pose Tracker> Jezebel Richens has posed.

Jezebel was, similarly, taciturn during her stay here - quiet, guarded. Paranoid, maybe? That might be the word for it. Overall, though, she more or less acted as only slightly less than a 'model prisoner' - answered about herself are forthcoming enough. Full name, date of birth, country of origin. Talking about the Mobile Suit was much more stilted, generally. 'I'd prefer to discuss that with a commanding officer', she would say about the MS, every time. Polite, but firm about that. Was she willing to talk about why she came to help? ... That one was harder, too.

Why did she do that? It wasn't a 'spur of the moment' decision, per se - none of this was. It was well thought out, from the first step. While maybe she could, in theory, steal a Gundam and escape with it to go rogue - that has happened plenty - stealing the support equipment on that suit requires at least a little more planning, since it isn't quite as simple as hopping in the cockpit and gunning it for Earth. Clearly, if she's here, she thought about it. No one puts that much thought about how to get somewhere without thinking about why they want to go there. But that question is a little more broad. She isn't sure she has to answer that part, not right now.

Seated in that room, she looks 'out of place', insofar that she looks uncomfortable. Tired, somehow, even though she hasn't really done anything during all the processing. Being a 'prisoner' of Mithril was not hard work, and yet, she looks - to put it nicely - terrible. Obviously, she actively surrendered the more weapon-shaped parts of her survival kit, and keeps that bag at her feet. When the Captain finally appears, she sharpens back up. Eyes focus back into this place, this time. The battle stops replaying. It's a little frail, though. Two facades facing one another.

"Your welcome, ma'am." Stilted. Formal. An attempt to present herself as a serious, professional soldier, even in this situation. As if her MS wasn't trashed on some tarmac somewhere. "... It didn't fit." She considers her words carefully, pausing after the statement. "It just didn't make sense. Going about it that way seemed too randomly violent. You aren't the Black Knights, or something, so something just felt off about it. I guess if I was wrong, I might've changed my mind, last minute? But I don't think I was. Sorry, that's pretty vague." Shrugging, she appends, "I guess I don't have a very good reason, then, ma'am."

<Pose Tracker> Teletha Testarossa has posed.

With the amount of work placed onto the Captain, those ashen eyes gazed at the brunette model prisoner. Reports backed up her gut instinct, the first conclusions she reached reinforced on every successive report: Model Prisoner. Tactiturn. Refusal to discuss the mobile suit. It was a very generous boon, technically.

Naturally, Mithril was suspicious. Especially when it came with additional parts, rather than merely the suit itself. The hardpoints on the base frame said to that, what with being able to detech some parts of it so easily. (They were kept on after confirmation. Really, the entire suit was just as it was taken on, only cataloguing the battle damage on it and patching it up so that nothing more could leak out.)

"...What didn't fit?" A question that she's asked countless times herself before ascending to where she was. "The world? Your situation? Something else?" A grimly set jaw on a face much too young to have that sort of experience. "We aren't the Black Knights, but we can't get anywhere unless we know why..." How to parse this. How to answer this. "...Why you stole the Gundam in the first place."

Any engineer worth their salt knew the multiple Gundam archetypes. The fact that this was a new one was surprising enough. "We can talk about the specifics later, and how you came about it, but...I just want to know what started it, and why." Weapons were weapons, but the intent was what she was scavenging for.

<Pose Tracker> Jezebel Richens has posed.

The prisoner cannot keep her eyes on her, eventually closing them and looking away under that line of questioning. Things are different here. That's one of the things she thought about, while she waited for her interview. If it was the EFSF, what would they do instead? If some unknown combatant flew to their aide in some unknown, secret, stolen suit? Maybe they'd treat her relatively well, but they'd absolutely split that MS open and learn absolutely everything they could about it. But Mithril was more polite about it.

Maybe they would, eventually, if she just refused to play ball forever. That'd be fair, but that isn't why she's here. "... I guess a few things." Somehow, she manages to meet that look again. It's so wrong for her to be that scarred, and for someone older to be licking their very first cuts. Maybe that's it. Really - it's shameful. Somewhere in her stomach, that little bead of gross, anxious energy forms again. It's not right for this girl to have that look on her face, but she does, and Jezebel can't say anything about it, because what the hell has she done? "I meant the pattern of the attack looked weird, but it didn't look like it was connected to some other large, random terror group to us. I was seeing one thing, and being told another." It isn't that she knew something special. It just... "Looked wrong to me. I don't know why." But that isn't the important question.

Again, though, her expression falls. "Every time something happens, they put us on ready. Prep the suits for sortie, get everyone ready to go, and then we sit there, and do absolutely nothing. It's..." Again, the prisoner can't look at her face and talk about this. It feels shameful, somehow. "It was too much to just keep watching things happen from afar. I wanted to do something. At least try to do something. So, I stole the Gundam, because it wasn't doing any good. What's the point of making something like that if you don't use it? And - I didn't trust the people who made it. Not with everything going on. It's funny, I guess. I wanted to use it, to have it used, but not by them. So, I took it, and then I got a little help, and then I flew into your ship and nearly died."

Because she couldn't actually do anything at all. This entire time, she labored under some false pretense that she could do anything - that all it would take is getting in a Gundam and pulling the trigger, and she would get to make things go different. That she could do anything except show up, flounder, and nearly die for no reason, because she decided to move.

She doesn't look back up.

<Pose Tracker> Teletha Testarossa has posed.

The Captain is patient, flicking her mind through the possibilities and tracks of this interrogation. Truth be told, she did memorize everything in that folder; It served more as a contingency measure and to set physicality of her mental tracks. There were more than a few people crowding around the machine. It wasn't everyday that one had the experience of seeing a new unit come from anywhere, especially one with the clear inspiration that this particular one had.

There's an instinctual stiffening of her back, the younger Captain matching the sight of an older woman who had just fallen into the turmoil of this world. The answer. That something was wrong, that decisively, something was wrong, and the ability to act out on it was something that was seized. With regards to this, she could afford the smallest bit of relaxation. It was stolen in the spur of the moment, but the resenment was long-standing.

There's a tertiary, tangental opportunity to learn about the workings of the EFSF. Something to file for a later followup. For now... "Doing it because you felt something was wrong, and doing it because you couldn't take it anymore..." The repetition to allow the answer to hang in the air, to coat it with minute clarification.

"...You want to do something, but you don't know how." The shot in the dark. The conclusion that led to her actions in the storm. "Am I correct?"

Leading on. "And what were you hoping to accomplish with that? The EFSF doesn't take kindly to deserters, moreso when you have a new Gundam that hasn't been formally revealed to the world." Was this the Federation's answer to the Gundam Fight? What a mess. "Are you hoping to be returned after negotiations, or are you willing to stand back up after being knocked down once?"

<Pose Tracker> Jezebel Richens has posed.

That, at least, she has a more firm answer to. "Please do not return me to the EFSF, I think that they will kill me." She is well aware of the cost of doing this. There's no way she can go back there, maybe ever. Her family will, eventually, be told that she's a deserter - eventually, it'll become public knowledge that she's a traitor, even. The weight of that...

It also makes her a little sick. Truly, there isn't any doubt that what she did was the right thing to do - that it was better for her to leave. That she could make some positive change if she did something as crazy as conspiring to steal a Gundam and deliver it to someone else, who would actually use it. Of course she still believes that. Of course she does. But... all the same, it's terrifying. Her very first step off the path, the very first time she tried to do anything, she was beat, badly, for it. There's no going back from this. If she's returned, the very best she can hope for is some hole for the rest of her life, but probably not. If she stays, she'll have to keep doing that kind of thing - well, maybe not. In reality, Jezebel really doubts that the Captain would force her into battle. That's another option - negotiate something else. Give Mithril the Gundam, maybe perform some logistical work for them. That might work. No one is forcing her.

But that isn't what she wants to do. What she wants to do is what she decided to do. "That's correct, for the most part. I know that I want to keep going, though. I don't want to go back to doing nothing. I think that the Gundam I stole is a part of the future, and that I'm not ready to just let that go." That's the difference. If she just lets it go now, then she lost. If she keeps going, maybe she can do something. Just maybe she can have some place in the future.

"Ma'am, I'd like to join you." It's a bit difficult to say out loud, but she spits it out, after a moment. Finally, she manages to look at her, and this time, her gaze doesn't waver. This, she's more sure abou than anything else she's said in this room. "I didn't make a particularly impressive first showing, and I'm not that special. I'm a little ahead of the curve, is all, but I know that F90 better than nearly anyone, and I want to use it well." There's something left unsaid in that. She's a soldier, so she's never had any option on where she went or what she did - that said, she never had a fight she didn't decide to have all on her own, just because she thought it was the right thing to do. That kind of 'independence' is a freedom in of itself - it lets her make any decision she personally wants to make, wise or unwise, and that's new, and terrifying. But, this choice is limiting. She's a soldier, but like this, she can pick her captain. A first decision, to pick a fight she did not, could not, win. A second, to keep fighting in spite of that. A third, to give up some of that brief, complete liberty to have a place - because she thinks she can trust that to someone else, but not herself. Not yet.

"... Please. Let me be a part of this."

<Pose Tracker> Teletha Testarossa has posed.

That was the answer she was looking for. No one in this line of work wasn't aware of what the EFSF did, and the Federation had already revealed themselves to desire a tighter grip on the world than most. "We won't." The unvarnished truth, and that was that.

She mentally sets her ball on Jezebel's court, to allow the answers to flow naturally. Even for a girl as young as her, it was plain to see that she was going to wait for an answer in silence, no matter how long it took.

Her lips do curve in a small smile. To keep going. To keep pushing for a brighter tomorrow, no matter what comes. The deliberation reminds her of herself; A will cemented after deliberation, a want after something so devestating to require atonement, whether the action was by outside frustration or childlike innocence. That is what the Shuffle Alliance wanted. That's what Mithril wanted. The source of it all: Discontent with the world at large, but to change it for the better.

She matches the gaze headon, listening to the declaration at hand. The want for another chance. The skills she has. An EFSF soldier walking away from the guaranteed promise of what the end of a long career had. To shift over to becoming part of a private military with all the trials, tribulations, benefits, and downsides with tossing oneself into this pit willingly, all for the chance at something.

Though she could not show such admiration, she did allow for her smile to tick upwards that bit more.

"I can't just say that you're hired. There's a process for everything, and Mithril is going to be naturally suspicious because of your circumstances. Hijacking a suit in general does come with grave consequences." That being said, she opens the folder and flicks through the first few pages. "What I can do is vouch for you. Know that you're going to be an employee of a PMC, and adjust expectations accordingly. We may be doing things that the EFSF won't or can't, but we can't move everything for your whims when it comes down to it. Only to the best of our abilities." However much that was, for better and for worse.

"For now..." She sets down a few pieces. Documentation of the damages on the F90 Gundam, with recommended repairs, materials, and specifications. "This is what we think your Gundam will need for full operational capacity. Let us know if anything's amiss." Another piece of paper. There's an application sheet, a few forms for Human Resources to confirm that Jezebel knows what they're getting into, and other minutae. "The full-time guard should let up in a few hours, but you won't be allowed off until everything clears."

"...I also understand what you mean by wanting to keep going. Everyone on the base feels the same. I won't ask you to inscribe any oath or anything, but remember why you came here. That's all I can ask."

A deep breath out, the Captain slumping over from the stress leaving her body. "May I be honest for a second?" A beat. "I had my suspicions, but I had to hear them." Trust, but verify.

<Pose Tracker> Jezebel Richens has posed: 

Finally having said all that, it's like the soldier in front of the captain has come alive again. Spitting it out made her shoulders relax a little, and she looks just a little less scared. That's what it was, after all. That's all it was that kept her locked in place, that made her look so wrong in this room. It's not gone. Not really. Maybe it shouldn't ever be 'gone' - people should always be afraid of going into a fight. But that doesn't mean that she shouldn't step up. Her expression softens, a little bit. Less intense, and she nods when she's sure she's been understood. It's going to be okay. Or, rather, maybe it'll be okay. She supposes it is still technically possible that Mithril just declines to hire her, on account of her being a traitor and that being sketchy. Ah, well. At this point - she's no longer teetering at the edge of a pit.

She's already jumped, so now it's just to see what's at the bottom. Once you're in, you're in. If she hits the bottom and gets crunched, that's that, but it was her choice to jump, and that makes it the right choice, no matter what else. And, frankly - it was certainly not a well measured jump, but maybe it couldn't have been. Maybe she had spent so long with her eyes on the road that she lost the chance for easier, better options out. If she had decided not to enlist, or done anything else, she could be someone else, could do something else, but by the time she was commissioned and in service, there was really not many options for her. ... No, that's not quite it. It isn't 'what she had done', exactly. Probably, most officers, most soldiers, in the EFSF don't end up having this conflict. They probably complete their term, then go home, or re-enlist, or do whatever else, but they aren't her. Really, there was no reason that Jezebel had to do this by force. She could've just waited out her term and left. But -

That would miss the point. It isn't the choices she made on the way on their own. People get locked on paths in life, and, indeed, this is another path she is putting herself on, without a clear way out. There will be contracts, expectations, requirements, orders. That's not the problem, and it isn't why she left. If she chafed at being a soldier, she wouldn't be here begging to keep being one. No. It is entirely what she learned, or rather realized, while there. Most people don't get to look at the future. And in some small way, she did, and that, finally, woke her up, to pick a different path to lock herself on.

It's a few quick glances over the forms of the damage to her Gundam, but actually going into detail about that is going to be a nuisance. "... Yeah, the armor is weird, glad they caught it..." It'll be annoying and expensive to maintain, frankly, but that's just the cost of owning a Gundam. Really, it's the cost of owning any specialty unit. It's worth it, if you're good, or else they wouldn't keep making them, though. But, that isn't what she wants to talk about right now, and she can review this paperwork later. For now, she refocuses on the captain. Hopefully, her captain.

"I understand. I am a soldier, it isn't like I'm going to expect special treatment." ... Of course, she says that like she was a front line soldier, instead of a test pilot for a Gundam. She doesn't seem to realize how embarrassing that is, right now, distracted as she is. "Sorry, ma'am, I don't think I follow your meaning."

<Pose Tracker> Teletha Testarossa has posed.

There's always the want to make sure others are okay. To watch the soldier in front of her twitch and relax, to try and note every small detail of her (hopeful) future SRT member. One can't always set themselves exactly where they want to be, but it's her hope that Mithril is willing to overlook the recent spats of Traitors in their own organization enough to entrust that a traitor from another organization would be welcome on-board.

After all, there's already one like that on-board.

She keeps the internal war going in her head; About thoughts of moving forward. Paths to push and prod along, paths to try and keep oneself on...And what about after? What if the path was wrong? There's nothing she can do but to help others with their own paths, to keep going down until the path ends. And afterwards? ...See where the branches lead.

"We can source similar parts, so don't worry about the quality of the replacements." Maintaining a PMC in general was expensive; It was lucky that she wasn't the one in charge of budgeting it all. They were worth their weight in gold, and everyone who's managed to successfully pilot one was worth their own weight in even rarer materials.

"To put it simply..." Her smile blossoms, the Captain looking decidedly more relaxed than she was a moment ago. "If I had the suspicion you were someone looking for a free room and board, or thought about harming us in any way, you were most likely going to wake up tied to a chair and subjected to a harsher interrogation." Leaving out the worse parts of it.

<Pose Tracker> Jezebel Richens has posed.

For a second, whatever else was shifting and clicking through Jezebel's head stops, and her expression changes. Eyes narrowed, slight frown. Well, that isn't that strange, right? For a girl like her to say that kind of thing - to more or less make a barely veiled allusion to an 'enhanced interrogation', to do it with such a wide smile on her face, is off putting. Alarming, maybe. It brings to mind some terrible shadowy organization, that would have a girl like that involved and comfortable enough to say that. Maybe that's even true, actually. But since the young captain is paying such close attention to the soldier, then - she gets it. She's not upset. She's trying to tell how serious she's being, and when it clicks that she's not only serious, but is probably downplaying it, her shoulder shift, a little.

She smiles too, and laughs, shaking her head slightly. It's genuine, and maybe that says something about her, too. "No, ma'am, I don't think that'll be necessary. I'm glad this organization isn't that... uh, soft, I guess, towards enemies. If this was easy - if I was welcomed with open arms, right away - then you'd be taken advantage of." Her smile doesn't fade as she, quickly, adds - "Not to say that I would've preferred a cell. I think this was just right." That makes most sense.

Be strong and firm against your enemies, so you can take care of the people inside. But not so strong, so firm, that you cut anyone reaching out. They aren't so strong that they can trust infinitely. No one is. That's good. It makes them easier to trust - that they'd be harsh towards her if she was going to hurt them is a comfort. That's good. Really, she just doesn't think she can be that soft of a person. She doesn't want to be, either. Someone like that can't change the world, she thinks.

"... Thank you. I wasn't..." It's a good thing she's so patient, or else she would definitely lose her mind listening to Jezebel try to articulate herself. "I don't think I would've survived that fight if not for you." She's not smiling as much, but it's still there, because she is she still here. "I was ready to give up, and I'm glad I didn't." She lost her footing in the fight. Everyone does, probably, but really - she made up her mind to try to be a part of this at that order. 'Do not die.'

Jezebel isn't going to make any oaths. But she's going to follow her orders.

<Pose Tracker> Teletha Testarossa has posed.

She maintains that smile with genuine appreciation for Jezebel not turning out to be an enemy of any kind, noting at how the soon-to-be-under-new-employment "prisoner" lightened up. A shadowy organization with a girl that wasn't even of drinking age piloting a flying submarine? Perish the thought.

"It's the line of work you'll understand soon enough. Considering your circumstances, you'll be happy to know that there's two openings thanks to recent events." It sounds so much more jovial than what actually transpired. "We aren't usually in the realm of abduction without purpose, so I'm glad that this was considered reasonable enough." The implication that there were worse quarters prepared...But that didn't matter. Right?

It's a tricky act to follow, but something well worth doing.

"The first fight jitters...It seems to be universal, isn't it?" She is relaxed, leaning back on the chair slightly, but she still is putting up that formal front. It's only proper between captain and incoming soldier. "It's the most important thing I can do for the people under my command." A deep sigh.

"I can't abide by a winning situation if that means one less person is coming back." Those words were said with renewed conviction in her soul, stating the plain obvious. "You have my word that wherever we go, you'll make it back."

<Pose Tracker> Jezebel Richens has posed.

It's a bit hard not to grimace at openings at a mercenary company, since she thinks it can only mean one thing. It just feels unlikely that it's a line of work with very many retirees. Of course, she is technically wrong; there could instead be very high profile betrayals that have people exiting the organization. You'd imagine a woman in her specific circumstances would have that in mind, but it does not occur to her. After all, she left a 'bad' organization and joined a 'good' one. ... It's nice, isn't it? She can hold on to being naive like that a little bit longer.

"Truth be told, I had wanted to be standing at the end of the fight, and then ask to join from a much more, uh, impressive spot. That was pretty silly, in retrospect." That one, she's cognizant enough to be embarrassed by. What, making some declaration and 'application' from the cockpit of a Gundam? That really is a little much. "... But, yeah, I learned a lot, real fast. I have a lot to pick up on, but I won't be a liability."

That last part - it also sounds 'too cool' to her, frankly. She did decently well in the Academy in the tactics classes, and it isn't like she was trained to feed men to a meat grinder, or something. But it was drilled into her that, if she wins, some losses can be alright. Wars take battles to win. Battles take lives to win. The lives of your men are valuable, but they are valuable because of the force they can impart; if, in dying, they impart force enough to win, then their sacrifice was worth it. The idea of making it a near requirement that everyone comes home just seems insane to her. Impossible. Maybe, not even desirable, if it means they fail to accomplish an objective, but that's why she isn't the captain.

"Understood, captain. Like I said before, I won't die." It's just as insane, though, to simply declare that you won't die in a fight. And, yet, she's absolutely confident in that, too.

<Pose Tracker> Teletha Testarossa has posed.

She leaves the prospects of openings at that. "It's why there was a cleaning crew when we first arrived." That should be clear enough. There should be no question as to what Jezebel had involved herself in.

"First impressions are important, but I can understand why you could think that way...Unfortunately, we don't usually take walk-ins." For one, actually recruiting for Mithril is cladestine. "So long as you follow the basic training Mithril gives, you shouldn't have much a problem. There's other people here in the same boat; Leaving whatever organization nurtured them, hoping for something better." There's a gut feeling; Those two would get along well. Hopefully.

There's barely any wavering in her declaration. She was aware of what she was saying; A meat-grinder, a place where the good die young and the old should be feared. The concept of sacrificing, the "ultimate play" made for the best outcome. Something that happened even a few days ago. Impossible. The word that weighed on so many minds. Was it? Truly? The answer was on a Need To Know basis. She's proud of what she can do, not vain.

The recognition that the soldier in front of her was only a few days fresh in meeting her. It's slightly refreshing to have someone with no understanding of who she was be faced with such seriousness.

"That's what I wanted to hear. So long as you believe in me, I'll make sure of it." Faint memories. Khanka. Khanka again. Other places. Miracles are hard-fought, but they can be made. They can try to make something as close to them as possible...and then they'll be considered miracles.

"Do try to rest. I'll make sure you have a proper bed by sundown."

<Pose Tracker> Jezebel Richens has posed.

There's a single, firm, nod of her head. "Will do, captain. Thanks."

She gets it. It's okay. She's okay. It's messy. Scary. There's work to do, for her, that'll keep her up for awhile - small, minute suggestions and corrections on the materials forms for the F90 repairs, some insight into how certain things should be reattached, consent and understanding forms, a more formal application than smearing a Gundam into a flight deck, et cetera. It keeps her busy, focused, for awhile. ... But, only for awhile.

By the time the guards come to get her to move her into a more comfortable bed than a conference room, she's passed out on her rucksack, dreaming of tomorrow.