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"Sharing is a common form of caring, but I'd rather forgo the Alcohol, especially before a battle. See you all later then, and thanks." Kai said, waving to the group before he wandered out of the Cafe, and towards the hangar.

****

Not wanting to have to jump straight into battle, he moved his way down rather quickly and arrived at the hangar in time to do a personal check-up on his temporary Alpha squadron of marines in the new Scimitar type C, or Atmospheric variant. It was still okay for space combat, still being a scimitar, but it lacked something of the A model. Kai brushed a hand along the primer-colored wing of the ship, making sure the mini-missile pods and chainguns were attached properly. The lieutenant looked around the hangar to see what other groups were around, and he noted a squadron of red-tinted starfighters, mostly A-variants, but a few B-variants that must have been replacements to the originals. He wondered who they were, since they weren't the Hymn's normal Red squadron.

Siberia accessed the broad com to contact Kai's Alpha contingent of Scimitars. "This is Red Siberia, Captain of the Red Bravo Squadron. We'll be flying support for you, Alpha Squadron. Heard good things about the Hymn pilots. Don't let us down, eh?" His tone was friendly and light. "We'll be sure to make a good impression. To answer that silent question, my squadron transferred onto the Hymn during the conflict at Ovid III when our original deployment vessel went down in the fray."

"Well, I'm glad someone is here to help us out, Siberia. I'm Lieutenant Nakamura, Alpha lead. And Hymn Pilots won't let you down, But there's a reason Alpha's only being assigned Escort; We're marines not Pilots. I know a few of us are as good as any flyboy out there, but a couple of us are still a little green under the gills'" Kai informed, checking the Turbolasers with a few tugs, making sure they were installed properly. He stripped off his jacket and pants, revealing the Black marine-issue jumpsuit, and donned a pair of gloves and special flight boots, and finally threw on the helmet, before jumping in the cockpit, and beginning his flight initiation. As Squadron lead, he was privy to readouts of the rest of his squadron, and they seemed to be doing very well. "What ship were you on before Ovid?" Kai Asked.

Click, click, click. Various actions probably pertaining to systems checks could be heard as Siberia spoke again. "The Great Fox, rest their souls. Don't worry about your greens, we'll keep the Drathonians off your guys, no problem. We're looking forward to dishing out a little payback after that scandal at Ovid." Red Czech cut in with a brazen, "Hoo-ah!" and was followed by Slovakia with a much deeper, louder, "HOO-AH!" Siberia put his men back in their places. "Check yourselves. We're not out the gate yet. Wait until we see the lizards... that is, if they dare to show themselves."

"Well, don't expect anything like that on an Escort mission, we're just the safety net on a freighter that's folding in about an eighth of an AU away from the station, and its corridor is a green one. Still, if we do get into anything I'll be glad to have veterans on my wing. and I'm sure my squadron will." Alpha squadron's status checks started coming in green, and the C model Scimitars began to warm up their engines, creating a ubiquitous whine that went with their thrusters. "We've got about two minutes to launch, is your squadron ready? I'm only waiting on three. make that two."

Siberia took a quick glance at the dash. The final signal was flickering from red to green. "Crimson Squadron's ready and willing, Lieutenant. Just give the word." In the following brief silence, Ruze finally perked up. "Quick question, Lieutenant Nakamura: are the Hymn ladies as pretty as they say?" Several Reds chuckled, and a couple had left their coms open, Siberia included. They all knew He was already engaged in a relationship (of sorts) and was simply supplementing his reputation to lighten the mood. It was all in good fun. "Hey, keep it tight-lipped, Uz. Save the jibes for the hangar." "If I do recall correctly, sir, we ARE still in the hangar." Silence for several seconds... Then, "Quiet, Three."

The young Lieutenant rolled his eyes with a bit of a Grin. "The women on the Hymn are just as pretty as all the other Terran women. They just happen to be more likely to kill you." A brief pause, followed by the confirmation of the last two pilots in his squadron, and Kai returned to the comms. "Alpha is read to go. Red Bravo, your initial jump coordinates are X4515, Y108094, Z1228883. from there, we form up and wait for the transport." Kai then flipped a switch, turning the comms to the Station's control center. "Saratar command, this is Alpha lead, confirming Alpha and Red Bravo are ready to go. Takeoff permission granted?" "Alpha lead, this is Saratar command, you are go. depart as ready, and have a safe flight. " "Thank you Saratar Command." he flipped the switch once more. "Red Bravo, we are go, proceed at your leisure, we'll follow you."

There was a smirk in his voice when Siberia acknowledged. "How kind, Lieutenant. You heard him Reds. Out the gate, on me." The engines were hot, so Siberia led the charge. In perfect order and regularity, Red Bravo exited the hangar. Once they were all out, Mongolia-- being the last one out-- announced it. "Good. Jump coordinates again are: X4515, Y108094, Z1228883. See you on the other side" Drives charged then catapulted the Reds out to the indicated destination in the same regulated fashion.

Alpha squadron followed suit, using a basic triple diamond formation as they exited the hangar, with Kai's scimitar leading the first diamond. As soon as Red bravo were off the sensor screens, Lieutenant nakamura gave the signal to engage fold drives, and they all charged up and fired in quick succession, the short range FTL jumps hurtling the fighters towards their objective.

"Fred, I don't think their heads or yours look like jars." Killy lied. "They look more like, uh, never mind that." The lone Ottyo seemed to retreat a little, pouring himself some of the spiced rum into a tumbler. Both Cibo and Marcus gave each other a look that asked, 'Really now?' Killy carefully eyed it before downing the contents. He mulled over the flavors before speaking. "If only absent friends could taste this."
"To absent friends." Marcus spoke, toasting.
"To absent family." Cibo added. Regardless of what happened next, Killy downed several more shots of the rum. Cibo gave a small, lazy smile. He gave everyone a sheepish look; either the alcohol was taking effect, or he was thinking of something.
"To...new ones?"

Cibo tensed and her hand dropped towards her sidearm. Marcus kept up a facade of confidence, but was getting ready to hide under the table. Killy had narrowed his eyes, and the position of his head crest's feathers were just starting to look a little less than friendly. "Heaven? Lord and Savior? Is this a joke? You, members of a highly advanced civilization...worshiping? Who or what is this 'Lord and Savior' you speak of? And heaven?" Cibo, with her free hand, discreetly poured another shot for Killy; he picked it up and downed it without even noticing. "I know nothing of your customs...but this feels...ominous."

****

'F*ck. Don't tell me this b*****d is some sort of religious zealot.' Cibo thought. 'I know we'll be able to put him down for good if he moves the wrong way, but who'll get cut up before we can? Probably Fred at this rate. Dammit. I gotta somehow...of course.' Cibo poured him another tumbler full of rum. Killy reflexively drank it again. 'If I time it just right, I might be able to load him up with this!'

****

'How the hell am I going to get out of this jam, and how the hell am I going to make sure Cibo doesn't?' Marcus thought. He watched as Cibo poured the Ottyo another drink, only to have it quickly disappear. 'Always were a smart b***h...'

By now, Killy was looking rather confused; his mouth was slightly ajar, and his feathers were now in disarray. "Then...why the mention?" he simply asked. "Most of our neighbors wiped themselves out, and even we followed the trend...so why do you mention such a grave issue lightly?" Cibo poured him another tumbler. It was easily his tenth, and the bottle was half empty. "Oh, thank you. Wait, why are you pouring for me?"
"Ah! Um. Just. Uh, common courtesy."
"I see." He poured her a shot and eagerly waited her to drink it. Under his unblinking gaze, she had no choice to comply. Marcus snickered. "So you don't think some form of god exists? That is a relief. I do not see how anyone can come to the conclusion that an all knowing and powerful god who lets suffering continue is somehow benevolent." Cibo poured him a drink, and he returned the gesture. They both drank.
'God damn you!'

"Irish? Excuse me, but is this some sort of subspecies of Terran? You look much like the others to me. Hmm. Then again, I suppose we would too..." This time, he poured the glass for Cibo first; she was starting to slow down, and she spilled a little when she tried to pour for him. "Careful there." She could only grumble in response. The bottle was nearly empty now, and the Intelligence Officer was not looking too good, not one bit. She was looking rather sleepy, and was apparently rather confused.
"Hey, who are you?" She asked Killy.
"Killy. I am an ally...or friend?" The feathers on his head were starting to spread out erratically, becoming even more messy. He sounded confused as well.
"Oh hi. Nice to meet you." Marcus face-palmed.

A few Long Island Teas. Beer. And many, many shots of rum. "Oh wow, you're really colorful. Like the pet parrot I used to have." She reached up and started to stroke his face. "You're a good boy, yes you are! Yes you are!" Though it was rather disturbing to see Cibo acting like this, the expression on Killy's face was simply priceless. It seemed to speak the words, 'Help me.' aloud to anyone sober enough to see. Even Marcus was disturbed by Cibo's...affections.
"So...have you had any pets?" she asked. "Mine all died when they blew up the city." she started to become rather depressed "Hey. Answer me. Hey."
"No organic pets. But I did have an old War-Mecha."

****
"War Mecha? A War Mecha? Ok, you gotta tell us about this." Marcus cut in. Cibo gave Killy a pleading look for him to do so. 'Ha. Even when she's completely tanked, she's good for something!'

****
Thump. Cibo's head hit the table as she passed out.

"Wow. She doesn't get drunk that often does she?" Fred directed the comment towards Marcus. With that, Fred got up, took off his leather flight jacket, and laid it on top of Cibo. "It is not good to be cold when you are drunk." He sat back down in his seat and poured himself another shot of whiskey, relishing the burning feeling as he swallowed it.
"Now where were we? Oh yeah, war mechs."