Welcome to Gaia! ::

Tanasha made a dismissive motion at the word assassination, and picked up her helmet.

Bah, it is not assassination to target a ship's bridge in a conflict, and as far as I am concerned the only real enemy forces present are the ones who are present by choice. I fail to see how the mass slaughter of a thousand kidnapping victims is somehow more morally justified than the precise death of a dozen of their slavers.
You do, however, need to understand that I am subject to significant political pressure restricting my actions. Without orders or immediate cause, I can only fight them should they venture into our space and then only if all other reasonable options are exausted. Should combat be unavoidable my orders are clear that the defense of innocent lives is paramount, and specify that to that end battles must be short, decisive, and use any course of action which would insure a swift and clean ending.

Putting the helmet on with a few clicks and a soft hiss, she continued.

You do not trust me? That is an understandable if ironic statement; Naturally I would not expect you to trust me as the only reason I have given for it is that you are not dead, but your actions and the state which my Capitan is in are ample cause for me to mistrust you, and that goes doubly for any claims you make about your opposing force. But it does not matter how I feel about your war, as even if you had me completely convinced I would still have no options allowing for assistance. Funneling you weapons and technology to give you an edge is already pushing the limits of what I can and can not do, and something which will be coated with more sugar than the Val-U-Mart breakfast foods aisle - which reminds me, should it ever become relevant you are a salvage and mercenary contractor. I do not have any authority to broker treaties, but I can sign-off on supply contracts.

Tanasha nodded. The armor translated the motion rather well, though if it were a sign of armor sacrifice for flexibility or a sign of solid engineering was open for debate.

Indeed, but politicians are an indecisive creature when they know they do not know the situation. If the Ixachtl come after us, then my options will only be restricted in retrospect.

There was an outlet of breath, although it's exact meaning was unclear

I am without the benefit of a bubble world containing only the people I know, and leaving only hazy charcoal caricatures of the world outside. I have no illusions suggesting that one person is any more worthy of life than another. Every time I lead my forces into battle I know that good people are going to die who do not deserve it, on both sides.
But that does not, however, change the fact that my job exists for the sake of countless innocent people. I can not allow somebody to threaten them, and weither they are a pawn or a puppet master is irrelevent to that. It is my duty to keep the number of friendly casualties as close to zero as possible. That I try to save as many lives as possible is itself a decision which has had lamentable consequences in the past, but doing everything in my power to give myself no reason to hold regrets is how I sleep at night.

Now THAT was certainly a sigh! ... Probably!

Witholding secrets from the troops; not telling them the whole truth so that they can do their job and continue to live a happy life. It leaves a foul taste in my mouth, and erodes the trust they hold in me. It is a difficult decision to make, I will need to weigh the consequences carefully.

[OOC]I am tired, and this post is rambling. I'll try to remember to go over it tommarow and stop it from being so angry-rantish.[/OOC]

Tanasha bowed slightly to Hannah as she left. She was quite used to having to put up with people who are either insulting or lacking in tact, and now was not the time to sour things.

No, she would wait until her Nida was able to say her piece before deciding how they should best be treated.

[OOC]This is what I decided to wholesale remove:
There are many cultures in which the greatest honor is to die in battle. They are not cherished for failing at their job, they are remembered for believing completely in their goal and not being swayed by the threat of defeat, no matter how great or horrible. They are celebrated for realizing that a failure of capability is not the greatest tragedy that one can face, but a failure of spirit.
Every day I make decisions that change the lives of those from my ranks, those for which I care. Some will come home in pain, some will come home dead, some will not come home at all, and some will come home considering the rest lucky. Sometimes those decisions are made on faulty information, sometimes something unexpected happens, and sometimes it was just the wrong decision to make.

Reason? Too ranty and not on-topic enough. sweatdrop

Also, I picked up a copy of MechAssault. Among the various horrors it has inflicted on the franchise:
LASERS which move at a brisk walk, of which there is only one kind.
Limited ammo for ALL weapons, including energy weapons. (Wolf's Dragoons using ICE mechs? Absurd!)
Infinate low-damage mode ammo when ammunition runs out (Glowing blue pure-energy Missiles? OH NO! THEY REVERSE-ENGINEERED SAMUS'S SUIT!)
PPCs which you charge up to fire, rather than recharging AFTER firing.
ACs labeled as "machine guns".
Wolf's Dragoons completely not realizing that the WoB logos, uniforms, transponders, and fanaticism means that the people they are fighting ARE the WoB.
Combat where EVERY DAMN MECH explodes in a nuclear fireball, but the fusion-powered hovertanks do not.
Techs ripping apart assult mechs to get a light mech working after they were damaged in a dropship crash... and finishing the task before the nearby base can scramble forces to intercept.

... And that's just the first and second missions.[/OOC]

Tanasha: Checking in on the MPs running the control center.

Lagrange: Keeping an eye on fluffy, who's actually authorized to use the tools.

*Griffin smiled at her, looking directly into Sparrow eyes, she couldnt blame her for not knowing her rank... after all whats is rank? the right of a person to bark orders?.. just a formality, true warriors doesnt need rank.. its just a way to keep things in order*

Its ok Sparrow... I guess we are still suffering from the last massive attack *Griffin floated back a bit*

Well, for now you are dismiss, take a good rest, unless anybody want to drink something with me... altough I dont think they have vodka or something liek that aboard *Griffin laughs*

--------------

*Back on Earth*

Well, let me see....*she tough for a moment* guess Im about to reach 1 year or so... how about you?? how long have you been around?

((OCC: Im not too inspired sorry sweatdrop ))

*Alina laughs, loudly*

Oh my... I tough Vanessa was the only one who speaks to her fighter....*she stops for a second* well I guess its ok.. after all you will share the danger with this ship...*she raise her eyes to the cockpit*

You know... it could be your grave or you angel... its a strange feeling isnt it?

((s**t, this thread absolutely will not move unless something drastic happens, huh? sweatdrop ))

((SUPER THREAD ADVANCE: FORTY-SOME-ODD HOURS. I figure nobody had anything that desperately needed doing. ASDF-0 folks can assume reduction in alert status.))

((Okay, folks. Settle in for some reading. It's story time.))



Only two hours since the debriefing. Nida was still exhausted. Flashback scenes always did that to her. All that wavy camera s**t.

Nida wouldn't have bothered with knocking, but she knew Tanasha. The door would be locked, unbashable, and armed. So she knocked. She had a feeling that she was being tracked on camera anyway, but what with all the spare Nidas running about lately, it was no wonder that the door didn't swing open without any effort on her part.

She wore her bomber jacket. Under one arm was a bulky accordion file.

Tanasha looked up from some random odd or end that she was working on and glanced over at the screen. She pushed a button and the door's overlapping, multiple layers slid past each other and into the wall - spaceship design cribbed from Star Trek, but better at saving space than having them open out or slide up. She stood up and walked over to the door.

Welcome, Nida. How are you feeling?

Rather than reply right away, Nida sketched a quarter-a** salute and wheeled her way in past her boss. She set the accordion file down on Tanasha's desk and opened it up.

"Copies of all my patents and proprietary information for the ASDF," she said, laying the first manila folder on the desk. Maybe four hundred pages. Which didn't mean much in terms of content, of course, considering patent applications could stretch into the double digits in page numbers for niche processes or materials.

"Condensed report on the status of the Engineering department and current action items, followed by a more indepth analysis." This was a slightly thinner folder.

"Relevant logs from battleroms, gun cameras, comm chatter, debriefings, and mission post-morts," was the description of the third folder.

"Personnel reports and reviews." Number four.

"My letter of resignation." A single sheet.

She dropped her forehead into an open hand, like she was contemplating a tight budget for the coming month.

Tanasha nodded slowly, as if mulling something over. She picked up the letter and took off her glasses, giving it a quick once-over before setting it back down and sliding it over to Nida.

The rest is fine, but I am afraid I can not accept this.

She leaned against her desk with her arms at her sides.

You have been through a lot, and it has taken a heavy toll on you. You do not know where you want to be, but you know that, for now, it is specifically not here.

She crouched down next to Nida and spoke softly. I will take you off active duty and deactivate your clearance if you want, but I will not remove your rank or database entry. Leaning forward, she gingerly gave Nida a hug, takeing care to avoid touching the stumps and other wounds. You will always have a home here; help is just a call away.

She shifted back a bit so that she could put her hands on Nida's shoulders and look her in the eye.

"Yeah. Well." Nida kept her gaze down and her posture withdrawn. "I, um. I. Sort of thinking of taking another offer that's just come in."

She slipped her chair deftly around her commander and nabbed the accordion folder again. Her expression was flat. "Can't really say what it is. I mean, you probably have clearance. You might know about it already, for all I know. I just, y'know, signed some s**t, so I have to keep quiet."

She withdrew another folder and tossed it on top of the pile. "Details of the reconstruction surgery. I'm not sure whether I'm really allowed to tell you about even that much, considering where I'm going, but it's not like we're not already doing this sort of s**t here. Just on a more vehicular scale." She looked down at her knees. Rather, the preservative caps which had replaced her knees.

Tanasha stood up and nodded. I believe I know what agency you have signed on with. While I have clearance, that NDA is so that they can keep information out of my hands. She gestured to the reconstructive surgery report. Which means that file was never here, and it certainly was not brought here by you.

But Nida had already moved on to getting lost in maudlin introspection. There was a long hesitation before she spoke again.

"Losing limbs is an everyday thing in the military, right?"

Tanasha sighed, sat down on the desk. Not every day, but it happens. I do my best to keep my people as healthy and happy as possible, but the best technology in the world still fails, and I can not protect them from things I can not predict - things like interdimensional kidnapping alternates.

Nida clenched and unclenched her left fist. If she'd had received medical attention more quickly, her right arm's musculature might have been saved; as it was, the vascular system had mostly healed, but the arm itself was useless for a few more days while the myomer was being assimilated. "I dunno. It's not like my legs were me or anything. I just have this really ******** feeling - like I didn't know them, or own or control them to the potential I was supposed to reach. Like I just had them on my body, and they were there, and I didn't think about them or whatever. Like the opposite of my dorsal appendages."

That was another thing. She could have avoided the chair and used her tentacles as motive limbs, as she'd done in Alternida's base. But there was something that didn't feel right about that. As if that would be the dividing line between her former self and some new Nida heretofore unprecedented.

To this, Tanasha had no response. It was just something she couldn't really relate to.

"Well. Whatever." Nida backed the chair, turned halfway toward the door. "I think I'm going to stay at an apartment in town or something for the time being. It's closer to work, and I'm not sure I want to be in my cave right now." She lifted her blank gaze toward her commander. "Her variants killed mine, you know. Only a few got integrated. My children are dead."

Tanasha sighed sadly at this, wanting to mention how at least Fluffy was fine, but at the same time not wanting to give Nida cause to dwell on it. I know, Nida. I know. ... I am not going to stop you from leaving, but do not worry about burned bridges or lingering obligations; I will tend to such things. Go and live your life.

Nida's smirk could be described as wistful. She slowly angled herself toward the door as she spoke. "When you open talks with the Ascendancy, deal with her kindly. I think she had it bad a long time ago. But don't let me hear about it. I don't think I can forgive her."

Tanasha stood up and balled her right hand up and put it across her chest, bowing slightly as Nida prepared to leave. I shall endeavor, then, to infect her with pathogens both embarassing and annoying, rather than terminal. It may have been a bad joke or she may have had a bottle of gonorrhea to spike some food with, it was really hard to tell. T-Boss has always had an odd sense of humor and an... interesting sense of vengence. She may well have been intending to send AlterNida home with a nice trade agreement and some rather embarassing - if false - clues as to how she got it.

Straightening up, she pushed the button to re-open the door for Nida.
Please, Nida, keep in touch. ... And take care not to let the door hit you on the way out. Shiny metal wheelchairs tend to mess with the door optics.

Nida didn't reply, but the grin on her face was genuine as she rolled out into the hall. ********' T-boss. She was going to miss the s**t out of this place.