L
Legix
>ON 188604: Tyben, Colridge Pitview
Compared with the rest of the planet, Tyben had one major difference: It rained. Almost constantly. Or at least it felt like that. The entire trip along the muddy northwest coast of the Great Green Sea had been one miserable slog along rock and slush, watching the landscape turn from miserable desert to rocky slopes where one slip would send you tumbling down to the land of broken spines. But: Ronin had made it all the way out to the former northern reaches of the Osman empire, now firmly under control of the USO.
Colridge Pitview, the local capitol so to speak, was about as harsh as the rest of the planet. A tiny rickety town built into the slopes of a mountain which had had about half of its mass dynamited into a giant open-cut quarry. Now left abandoned as the stone was useless to the new imperial overlords of the planet. The space people used metal to build after all. That and about half the workers had taken up sticks and left, leaving the pit which was being viewed to linger without proper staff.
Still, Tyben had one other claim to fame: It was about one of three places on the planet where rains were plentiful enough to create a non-salty mud. It was a place where things could grow, and the biggest landmark in the town itself was right now the line of former pit-workers lining up to get their hands on something truly precious: Produce from space. All over the half-mountain, on the path up here were little patchy farms were stabbed everywhere in the wet earth. Unfortunately plants distributed by a Freespacer organisation to a generation of people who had grown up living on algae growing on water had left the region far less productive than it otherwise could be.
And so, this is where Ronin would come in. Coming up here with only the name Sheriff Kelly Buchanan as a reference for someone in charge. And following the line of workers waiting for their supplies would lead him into the reclaimed mansion of the Colridge family. The ominous crow-cage out front still containing what was left of the late Baron Colridge... The banners of the Brigade slung from the upper storey windows. The line of hopeful farm owners, many still in old penal worker uniforms leading towards the front gates which were now blasted off their hinges. This was presumably where the woman in charge was, if the Brigade's methods were any indication.
Compared to the lines of impoverished civilians seeking both food and means to bring some sort of productivity to the land of Tyben, the man riding a horse certainly stood out as well-off. Unlike them, however, his attire wasn't consistent to some sort of fashion sense of any sort. His AMES suit was worn on the very bottom of his clothes, keeping him dry in a land of rain and dampness, the helmet in place with the visor down and the reflective outside engaged to hide his facial features. To help hide the spacer suit, however, was the de-militarized coat he often wore open, the frock coat making him out almost like a noble. Unlike a noble, though, the man's waist was straddling an iron unlike those of the world. The forty-five compact was loaded and two magazines were clinging to the back of his waist just below the coat. Even if he wasn't wearing pants to help with the disguise, the space-shooter was worth it for intimidation and ease of access.
Strolling the horse right up to the porch leading into the Colridge mansion, the man cursed under his breath as he threw his leg up and over and hopped down without the grace of seasoned riders. Riding was simple enough with a decent saddle, as he'd learned, but doing so was utterly painful and tiring for a guy in a full-body suit who was used to Origin-made comfort.
"Once I get inside and can take the damn helmet off, I'm going to take the longest drag of my life... but at least I didn't have to smell all the rot and death on the way in."
Moving to the Brigade-claimed building at last, the man didn't do much more than give a single knock and push the door open. He'd seen enough Wild Planet movies to understand that most would come running out ready for a firefight at the sudden intrusion... but he was at least hoping these guys and girls knew not to shoot first and ask questions later.
"I'm looking for Kelly Buchanan! I'm one of Uso's mercenaries!"
As the line for picking up supplies went around the side of the mansion, it didn't exactly look like it would be as easy as it was to just walk inside. But as Ronin went in, it was immediately apparent that he didn't need to even knock. The place was perfectly open to the public, with numerous Brigadiers and townsfolk just sitting around, or lounging on any available surface. Many of them in here just waiting for the rain to pass so they could get back to it. The place was in disarray, regardless. Mud tracked in over the fine carpets from a thousand filthy feet, the furniture was a mess and soggy, while all the fine portraits were torn up, or being used as kindling.
Still, a few of the Brigadiers helpfully looked over to Ronin and shouted, "She's upstairs. Master's Office. Second door on the right."
"Right. Thanks." He made sure to click his comms off from within the airtight suit. The oxygen could wait for a few minutes with the sort of ghetto the mansion had been turned into. Walking carefully through the pigsty, the pistol-carrying man made his way up the stairs. Part of him wanted to go into the first door just to be a nosy prick, but he imagined he'd just open the door to find some sort of orgy room at this point. Giving a knock at the second door, he'd speak up and click his comms back on.
"Kelly, are you in here? I'm one of Uso's bunch. I need to talk to you... preferably where I can breathe without likely smelling an army of dirty, starving farmers."
As Ronin knocked, the door behind him, second on the left swung open. Seemed that in a 'spacer run group, directions could be shaky at best.
"Well you're not escaping the smell. No one makes perfume anymore." A woman, presumably Kelly said, "So suck it up, princess and say what you gotta say."
Turning around, the manliest princess on the planet grumbled at the idea that cleanliness wasn't taken serious by these people. It seemed Rubi really was the top of the society in this environment. Giving a tap to his headgear, the man's visor lost the heavy tint to reveal his face and a smushed mohawk running down his forehead.
"If that's how you want it, fine. I'm here to help you with these farmers. Whether by bullet or by work."
Kelly seemed to actually not be that filthy. Although she was certainly not clean. A slight woman with long blonde hair tied back into a ponytail and tucked under a top hat that had probably been pillaged from the former owners of the mansion. Long oilskin duster, still a little wet from the rain, and a similarly pillaged embroidered waistcoat. Boots caked in mud, finger-less gloves showing off blackened fingernails from working in muck and ink.
"Most peacekeeping is done by the machines these days." She said, leaning against the doorframe. Content to hold this meeting in the hall. "Although if any of the bandit clains come down we'll get every gun we got on it. You some sort of space farmer?"
"A space farmer, no. At least, not with my hands." As if to somehow show her the concealed hands, the man raised his right one. "I'm a mechanic. A builder, I guess on your world. I can make machines, with some tinkering and help from you people on what things need... that can help you grow shit."
While sitting in the hallway was fine, he couldn't take talking through his helmet. It seemed like a more alienating thing than the fact he was from a different world. Reaching to take hold of the body suit's fixture, he'd give it a slight twist and then carefully lift once the seal was removed. The stench hit him hard, but even as the man made a grumpy and annoyed snarl it didn't last long.
"Hopefully you don't grow actual shit... it'd explain the smell, that's for sure."
It seemed she didn't get that offended about the comments of smell. If anything, it was probably perfectly understandable.
"Well most of the earth around here is a layer of mud on rock. Hard to dig a privy out here. Most just leave it to slide down the mountain, or turn it to fertilizer. That an' a lot of folks are coming in seeing as there's space food being grown all up here. We also got mechanics on this planet too, but you aliens tend t' think what we got isn't worth using... You got any plans for what you can do t'help, or is this our show t' tell you what to do?"
"If it wasn't for the fact I'd left my giant robot back in the capitol, I'd be more than willing to take the lead. But, seeing as I'm short a metal monster that could have probably taken on your entire world... I'm here to do what you need done."
Part of it was that he did have plans, but had no resources or trust with the locals to make it happen. Unlike Uso, his employer, he lacked a giant checkbook to help the people who had been curious near the airfield when it came to his craft. After having been on the world as long as he had been now, however, the man wanted to help.
"If it's a dangerous job, give me some of your men or just come with me and we'll get it done. Let me prove to you guys that I'm not just another alien here to belittle you... in return, maybe you work with me to get some things built that would help the whole damn world. And, just maybe, get a vial of perfume and a bath."
Kelly gave a sharp smile and a small shake of her head, turning to step into the room behind her, waving Ronin inside. A small private library, with a heavy desk before glass doors to a small balcony that overlooked the old mining pits of Tyben.
"Mate, we get paid cash in the Brigade. We can buy anything we want from space with that cash. Perfume and a bath is small change compared to what the Sheriff's already got in the books for us. Pretty sure I can buy tiny robots which eliminate all body smells if I really wanted to..." She sat on the desk, pulling her coat about herself as the doors creaked open a little more with a cold mountainous wind. Some of the rain further mussing up the carpets.
"If you're lookin' to subjugate the mountain clans, we can call for a drop off for whatever gear you have from the capitol. Send you north and call it a day. If you want to build something... Well, you space folk are just about always ready to show off your smarts. We got men on contract deals here for working, we can get mechanics if you want a crew to build something. All I know we need is irrigation, but I'm not really a farmer, so I can't tell you all that'll help us. If you want to help us with what we're doing I can... Get you a shovel?"
Blasting mountain folk was certainly a fun idea. The idea of getting to build something and teach the mechanics on the planet how to handle some baseline equipment was certainly an interesting prospect as well. But with all this certainty, there was one thing made clear by her three goals. All three required sufficient tools to make somewhat decent progress... and one tool better than any shovel or small firearm was a giant warmachine. Walking forward and further into the library, the man looked to one of the nearby shelves passively. Right hand shifting over to his pistol's grip, he hummed to himself briefly.
"You can get me that call to the airfield to have my mecha air-dropped. Subjugating the clans might be a bit messy, though, don't you think? Maybe we do things... differently. Sorta like the Yamatai way. Aliens, I guess... but they tend to absorb their enemies and use them. Maybe we can do the same."
Moving ever close to the now sitting and rather dapper blonde, Ronin came to a halt where his orange-tipped mohawk was more than close enough to study in the smelly room.
"You're getting paid in riches, so maybe I help make you all heroes. The Brigade has a chance to do what the nobles couldn't. We do all this right and make those bastards join up as workers, fix up Colridge, and then help those farmers... I bet you're all viewed as heroes and made rich by the Sheriff."
Kelly took a breath. Then took a small tin from her pocket, and tapped her fingers on it a few times. Popping the lid on it, she took a pinch of what seemed to be snuff, and held it to her nose, snorting it with a little shake of her head.
"So you're proposing that we get the mountain cannibals and turn them into farmers... How exactly? I don't know this Yamatai other than what the Thieftaker General says, an' that's not much. But they've sounded like they jus' kill everyone."
"You're on the right track."
Watching the native do what had to be drugs, the man at least felt comfortable as he reached into his pocket with his free hand. One hand still craddling the helmet, he pulled a lone cigarette free between two fingers with the lighter between the thumb and outer two. It was a seasoned grasp that allowed him that sort of grip and control, bringing the deathstick up and between his lips before taking full grasp of the lighter. The click and flame were fast, the tool lowered only once the trail of smoke picked up and his gaze fixed on Kelly entirely.
"Yamatai," the man grumbled through partially closed lips while stashing the lighter in his coat once more, "Would make examples out of them. We find the biggest and baddest clan and fuck them over... maybe we dress you and some of the women and guys up as slaves or something. Whatever gets those assholes to think we're bigger and stronger... then we tell them it's our way or they're ground up. Meat is taken off the menu or we blow them to hell. A crater, our staged presentation... fancy way of screwing with their heads. An effective way, too... shock and awe, Buchanan. Shock and awe."
"What would dressing as slaves accomplish?" Kelly asked, depositing the tin back into her coat. "We've already driven 'em off with the Sheriff's machines anyway. But they're more interested in survival than they are about much else. If you kill 'em, it just makes 'em more desperate an' feeds the human hunger."
Dressing as slaves, obviously, was him just trying to get the snuffing blonde in skimpy clothes. But he did decide to chuckle and play it off as her simply not understanding some sort of 'space tactic'.
"Well, I guess if they're only interested in survival, then we have no choice... I figured the human instinct to fear would be enough to snap those idiots into loyalty, but I'll take your word on it. If we're going to kill them, are you going to clean up? Can't blame me for blowing chunks out of your mountains, either... because to kill people who hide in caves and under the ground, I'd need to tear into it. That'd only cause problems... which is why diplomacy seems best. It's either we think of a way to trick and capture them, deceive and possibly get them to help or work for us... or you and your people get stuck handling far worse work or having to rely on the Sheriff to help you out when or if she feels like it. Because I certainly won't be clearing up the landslides and debris from blowing the shit out of your range with my Tengu's rifle..."
"They don't live on my mountain." Kelly said with a little one-armed shrug. "Don't need to clear anything up north. You can blow up whatever you want out there. I'm just here to hold the line until someone goes out there an' sorts it out, if that's you then you can go ahead. We'll listen to you, give you information, but until we have more to go on we're just leaving the machines out there to blast apart anything coming around th' quarry. An' why would I clean up? Th' mansions just going to get dirty again in a second."
Seemed it didn't actually occur to her that she was the focus of things being cleaned. Indeed, it seemed that bathing on this planet was more a thing for big occasions, or the very wealthy to enjoy.
"Pft... I guess your world lacks the understanding of how cleanliness is good for your health. Or maybe you people don't like living long lives without smelling like a horse's ass."
Teasing aside, the man reached to his pocket and pulled free a cigarette for the blonde. He'd wiggle it briefly, turning and moving past the seated woman and her desk toward the glass door. But rather than pay respect and open it, he put his boot against the glass and the EVA suit did its job with his leg backing it. The glass shattered nice and loudly, his foot kicking around as he trashed it and then opened as per normal door etiquette.
"No need to clean that up. It'd just get broken again, right? You guys are meant to be leading and caring for people but you're too damn busy relaxing and being scared of the damn rain..."
Walking out without much hesitation, the sensation of water droplets falling on his noggin was certainly not the most pleasing. However, the fact was that he was annoyed with how she so casually turned the work off of her and relied on those junker drones to do the jobs for them. It was time to try and teach some sort of a lesson to the woman who would rather sit in the smelly, devastated mansion of the nobility they had blamed and dealt with before. At least back then, he waged with some safe idea, they had order and some sort of control over the area. If those drones weren't doing their job, it was quite likely the Brigade would be suffering with or without the backing of USO.
"Get your ass out here and take this cigarette. Point me to where those idiots are."
Kelly didn't seem impressed at Ronin's outburst. Then again, she didn't seem too worried about the state of the mansion either. The implications of his kicking out the door rolled off her back, the same way the rain dropped off her top hat as she stepped out and took the cigarette, pulling a compass out of her pocket and doing some quick mental navigation.
"About two days ride that direction." She pointed out over the old quarry, which was now a mess of waterfalls as the rain pelted down on it. Beyond that was a long stretch of Bloodtree forests that seemed to extend out to the horizon, over rolling hills.
"We'll call for your air drop so you can go tantrum the mountain clans to death."
"Two days ride... so if I take my Tengu I'd get there in no time. That settles it, then... you'll come with me."
Even if the rain had fallen harder, it wouldn't disturb the man and his near constant drag enhancing the smoke's flame. It was a quick burn, but it was wreathing him in smoke as it leaked from his nostrils and corners of his mouth.
"That is," he paused to reach up and remove the cigarette, turning to face the smelly boss-woman, "Unless you're yellow-bellied. Or chicken. Whatever the statement for a coward is on your world."
"Wuss." She said, tucking the cigarette away into her coat. "We riding, or am I going in some sort of flying ship for this? And do you need backup?"
"If we want to ride, let's get back-up... a few of your friends, if they can shoot straight. Otherwise, you can ride shotgun in the Tengu with me."
Turning his gaze outward over the rain-afflicted craters, the man could only sigh at the next possibly terrible idea.
"I do have an idea for terrifying the shit out of them, though... I need treasure metals and any steel. If we head down and get me some tools and a forge... I'll make you a suit of armor."
Unlike the Freespacer who could make junker drones operate and more or less mechanically subjugate an entire world, Ronin had a terrible idea when it came to the Brigade. Or, more critically, the leader that had decided to be his smelly partner for this operation.
"I'll make you a scratch-suit... a nickname friends of mine back in school had for armor. Makes you stronger, keeps you safe... it'll let you be able to run without tiring. I won't be able to make anything great since your planet lacks tools or proper materials, but I can make something that you'll be able to brag about. Afterward, you won't call me a wuss. You'll be thanking me and promising to take a bath as long as I let you keep it."
"You come from a planet with lots of water, don't you?" She asked simply, "Outside Tyben most water's too precious to waste for bathing, and soap made here burns your skin..."
"But sure. We can get you the metals. This place was the planet's largest active mine for the most part, just need to find people willing to go back into the pits if we don't have enough in store."
"Well, we can fly you out to a lake or something and you can scrub down. Until then... let's see if we can round up people to head into the pits. Find someone to help me get your measurements, too, unless you want to be in a suit that won't fit you properly."
Taking his cigarette, now almost soggy and falling apart, the man flicked it out and over the balcony to some muddy puddle below. Raising the helmet up, he didn't take but a single instant to pull the protective piece into the on-position. His mohawk was visible for a moment, but the visor flickering shut quickly hid that as he turned his gaze to the woman.
"Kelly, I won't lie... I've not made power armor beyond rough drafts and terrible dares from my military days. And that was more than my fair share of years ago. It can't be any dangerous than growing up on this world... but I have to briefly mention that I'll use one of the nuclear-powered bullets from my Tengu to power this. It's a possibility you could blow up... probably make a crater the size of a small house."
Kelly reached under the mantle of her coat which was now glistening with the rain on the balcony, pulling out some sort of spacer-made communications device that Arccos had probably hacked together in a shed somewhere in Osman city. A hazy blue hologram projected out of it, showing a screen as she input a message to... Someone. Probably the rest of the Brigade at large.
"I'll make a report to have you convicted of criminal negligence in the case of my death, if you're putting it that way. But I'll trust you. We'll see about clearing you out a workshop somewhere in town, and getting you whatever metals are needed. Just be warned that someone will probably turn up wanting you to fix a broken garden hoe or something..."
Being convicted of negligence was far from the worst thing. Having to clean her off his mecha and likely pick shrapnel out of his machine was far more unappealing. Either way, the man made sure to turn and start leading the way.
"If they do, you can help them. After all, if I mess up because of some idiot farmer, you're the one who's going to turn into a tiny sun for a few seconds before being evaporated from existence... more or less."
Kelly shrugged apathetically, clearly not that confronted by her own mortality being at stake.
"We'll point them in the right direction, just saying you should expect the potential for interruptions. Most people out here don't know what a mechanic is, other than the tinkers. Word'll spread fast that you're here doing something, anyway. Probably the most famous man in Tyben by now, aside from the old Robber Baron..."
"Well, if I'm famous then maybe the mountain clans will have some respect and surrender once I start blowing holes in their line and you're able to choke the life out of them while the rest harmlessly shoot at you."
As they made their way out of her lovely, if not filthy, library and down the stairs, Ronin didn't try to hide the fact of his weirdly-matched attire. The coat over the suit was clunky, but it did well for setting him apart in terms of the orange coloring and the resistent material. But with the gathered group downstairs he only had to come to a halt near the main entrance of the mansion and turn to face the largest groups.
"Any of you talented at mining or able to help out, we need people to acquire metals and tools for working on a suit of armor! It might sound hard to believe, but I'm going to make a suit that can help Miss Buchanan here take on an army of those cannibal assholes!"
A group congregating out in the muddy yard turned to look at Ronin. A couple laughed, and a couple of others just shook their heads. Eventually, one stepped forward. A young man, shaved head, with a thick beard. Dressed in an outfit that looked like rough-spun pajamas. White, with black arrow-like patterns all over it. Like a prison uniform. A thick blanket wrapped around his shoulders like a cloak to keep him warm, if not dry.
"Most of us were slaves in the mine." He explained, "We can get metal out of the pits, but you'd best be fuckin' payin', matey patatey."
Almost as if on cue, Ronin would feel a soft bit of pressure on his shoulder, as Kelly stepped up behind him and bapped the mech pilot on the shoulder with a wad of Brigade-issue banknotes.
Looking over to the coat-protected shoulder and the stack of bills, the man didn't hesitate to take it and then offer the whole damn thing to the guy.
"Fine. Assemble a crew. If you don't bring back results, I'll have the Brigade find you and then come blow you up with as many bullets as I want. We clear?"
The bald man snatched the wad of cash in a gnarled hand, slipping them under his armpit to keep them protected from the all-pervasive weather of the place. Turning back to the crowd, he decisively pointed out a few of the other collected workers who were wearing the same uniform as him, in part if not in whole. The group of them wandering over to the side of the mansion in a flock.
"They'll be putting their mark on a contract, although the actual sentence for violation of work orders is usually outlawry." Kelly explained, "But Maxon's a good man, he'll get it done one way or another."
Part of Ronin felt ready to argue that anyone who seemed so sleazy and quick to rush off with a handful of cash wasn't likely to be a good person... but Kelly vouched for the man. Unlike her, he didn't know enough about this planet or the people he was having to work with.
"Well, either way, let's get going. The saddle for the horse I got is more than big enough for two. You can ride in the back and lead us into town... certainly can't let them think I'm a spacer that can't tough it out like all of you."
Walking down and off from the mansion's doorway, the man made his way back to his steed. It wasn't exactly ideal to be riding around, but they had to get down to the forge and hopefully get the Tengu delivered close enough to recover one of its shells. Once he was up and atop the beast, he'd turn his gaze from his no doubt awkward position atop the animal and offer her a hand.
"Where are you having the stuff dropped, anyway? I didn't exactly see anywhere good besides maybe the riverside to drop a machine like mine. We'll likely need to go pick it up first to make sure we have the bullet needed to power this death-trap experiment."
"There's a clear platform down by the pit. It's where we get supplies dropped off for the Brigade." Kelly said, reaching up to snag Ronin's arm by the wrist, and expertly haul herself up on the horse. "Just follow the mush back to town, the place you're getting should be behind the saloon."
Thankfully, her grace and experience with horses had allowed easy mounting without pulling him from the steed. While he took the reins in one hand, the other moved to take hold of his sidearm's holster as he directed the horse around and back the way they came. Of course, this time he was heading right down to the town. He was already looking for a big, cheesy saloon based on his stereotypical ideas of this world.
"You know, Buchanan, I was serious about dropping you in a lake. If you can't swim, I'll just have to craddle you in my machine's hand. Urgh... I am glad this helmet keeps the smell out. It's like being able to breathe again."
"You complain a lot, Princess." Kelly said, without much malice in her voice, "Here's hoping your work is up to your own high standards, your highness..."
"I'm Ronin, not Princess. But, if it makes you feel better thinking you're riding behind a princess, then I guess go with that. Maybe I'll make the suit a little tight around the chest so by the time you take it off you'll be practically stripping nude just to breathe. Give the whole damn town a nice show."
Giving his name out felt worthless, of course, but he had a hunch that his adventures in Tyben weren't ending anytime soon. Angling the horse as they moved through the water-ravaged roads, he could only hope he spotted the saloon quick enough that he could get started on that armor. The idea of tossing her in a lake and forcing her to clean up was almost more appealing than getting to shoot up some Mishhu.
"I'll be sure to give you my measurements with a larger bust size, then." Kelly said coolly. More or less operating on the idea that Ronin's petty jabs were more detracting from him than her at this point. Also, this was a planet where courtesy was somewhat common. That was hardly a threat, all things considered.
The saloon in question was more or less what anyone would expect. A surprisingly short two floor building, with a heavy balcony on both floors. Even had the little swinging doors at the front. Behind it however was the 'workshop' promised. It looked more like a converted barn than anything else, possibly where the saloon once kept horses for visitors, but the yard by the side was full of some sort of steam engine apparatus which had been left outside to rust. Getting Ronin to pull his horse up close, Kelly hopped off and pulled a heavy key ring from her belt. Slid the right key, which she seemed to know by heart into the padlock on the front door, booting open the door and stepping inside.
"It's not much, but it's what we got. Not sure what a space workshop would even start to look like." she said.
The inside was dusty, and a little humid. Sturdy benches made from heavy and thick planks of the local wood lined the room, with something like a furnace against the far wall. A rusty anvil beside it. Tools of all sorts, some archaic, some of surprisingly modern design were on racks on the wall. Most of them with wooden handles maybe best handled with gloves to avoid splinters.
"Then again, the Brigade's workshop in Osman's crappier than this. Brigadier General made do."
Dropping down with a bit less grace than his fellow rider, the alien to the world moved inside and stopped only as he reached her side. It was certainly far from the stuff he'd used to repair ships or create emergency parts. Tossing his helmet first, both hands moved to grab hold of his coat, pulling it up and off while moving over to one of the benches. Tossing the coat down, he took no time partially removing the jumpsuit, putting much of his muscled arms and upper back on display thanks to his tank-top. The suit was quickly secured at his waist, leaving the man's upper half out of it for the first time yet.
"Urgh... well, it can work. I'll need some local metalworkers... people to help me shape and prepare plating for the suit. It's going to look really heavy, but... if I can fix the hydraulics up while here rather than rely purely on electrical... we might not need to invest gold or anything like that into technical parts."
Moving over to the tools, he pulled free one of them and studied it before turning to face the Brigade Girl.
"Kelly, unless you want to be motivation by either sitting there topless or cheering me on, you should find them and make the call. My mecha has the shells we'll need... so I need to work hard just to produce the bare minimum electronics and mechanical aspects of the suit. And get a pair of gloves before you wander off... it's just like high school all over again... except I'm building things from a primitive world's technological vantage and using one of my Tengu's explosive bullets to make a jury-rigged power-source... far from the hardest thing I've had to do."
Compared with the rest of the planet, Tyben had one major difference: It rained. Almost constantly. Or at least it felt like that. The entire trip along the muddy northwest coast of the Great Green Sea had been one miserable slog along rock and slush, watching the landscape turn from miserable desert to rocky slopes where one slip would send you tumbling down to the land of broken spines. But: Ronin had made it all the way out to the former northern reaches of the Osman empire, now firmly under control of the USO.
Colridge Pitview, the local capitol so to speak, was about as harsh as the rest of the planet. A tiny rickety town built into the slopes of a mountain which had had about half of its mass dynamited into a giant open-cut quarry. Now left abandoned as the stone was useless to the new imperial overlords of the planet. The space people used metal to build after all. That and about half the workers had taken up sticks and left, leaving the pit which was being viewed to linger without proper staff.
Still, Tyben had one other claim to fame: It was about one of three places on the planet where rains were plentiful enough to create a non-salty mud. It was a place where things could grow, and the biggest landmark in the town itself was right now the line of former pit-workers lining up to get their hands on something truly precious: Produce from space. All over the half-mountain, on the path up here were little patchy farms were stabbed everywhere in the wet earth. Unfortunately plants distributed by a Freespacer organisation to a generation of people who had grown up living on algae growing on water had left the region far less productive than it otherwise could be.
And so, this is where Ronin would come in. Coming up here with only the name Sheriff Kelly Buchanan as a reference for someone in charge. And following the line of workers waiting for their supplies would lead him into the reclaimed mansion of the Colridge family. The ominous crow-cage out front still containing what was left of the late Baron Colridge... The banners of the Brigade slung from the upper storey windows. The line of hopeful farm owners, many still in old penal worker uniforms leading towards the front gates which were now blasted off their hinges. This was presumably where the woman in charge was, if the Brigade's methods were any indication.
Compared to the lines of impoverished civilians seeking both food and means to bring some sort of productivity to the land of Tyben, the man riding a horse certainly stood out as well-off. Unlike them, however, his attire wasn't consistent to some sort of fashion sense of any sort. His AMES suit was worn on the very bottom of his clothes, keeping him dry in a land of rain and dampness, the helmet in place with the visor down and the reflective outside engaged to hide his facial features. To help hide the spacer suit, however, was the de-militarized coat he often wore open, the frock coat making him out almost like a noble. Unlike a noble, though, the man's waist was straddling an iron unlike those of the world. The forty-five compact was loaded and two magazines were clinging to the back of his waist just below the coat. Even if he wasn't wearing pants to help with the disguise, the space-shooter was worth it for intimidation and ease of access.
Strolling the horse right up to the porch leading into the Colridge mansion, the man cursed under his breath as he threw his leg up and over and hopped down without the grace of seasoned riders. Riding was simple enough with a decent saddle, as he'd learned, but doing so was utterly painful and tiring for a guy in a full-body suit who was used to Origin-made comfort.
"Once I get inside and can take the damn helmet off, I'm going to take the longest drag of my life... but at least I didn't have to smell all the rot and death on the way in."
Moving to the Brigade-claimed building at last, the man didn't do much more than give a single knock and push the door open. He'd seen enough Wild Planet movies to understand that most would come running out ready for a firefight at the sudden intrusion... but he was at least hoping these guys and girls knew not to shoot first and ask questions later.
"I'm looking for Kelly Buchanan! I'm one of Uso's mercenaries!"
As the line for picking up supplies went around the side of the mansion, it didn't exactly look like it would be as easy as it was to just walk inside. But as Ronin went in, it was immediately apparent that he didn't need to even knock. The place was perfectly open to the public, with numerous Brigadiers and townsfolk just sitting around, or lounging on any available surface. Many of them in here just waiting for the rain to pass so they could get back to it. The place was in disarray, regardless. Mud tracked in over the fine carpets from a thousand filthy feet, the furniture was a mess and soggy, while all the fine portraits were torn up, or being used as kindling.
Still, a few of the Brigadiers helpfully looked over to Ronin and shouted, "She's upstairs. Master's Office. Second door on the right."
"Right. Thanks." He made sure to click his comms off from within the airtight suit. The oxygen could wait for a few minutes with the sort of ghetto the mansion had been turned into. Walking carefully through the pigsty, the pistol-carrying man made his way up the stairs. Part of him wanted to go into the first door just to be a nosy prick, but he imagined he'd just open the door to find some sort of orgy room at this point. Giving a knock at the second door, he'd speak up and click his comms back on.
"Kelly, are you in here? I'm one of Uso's bunch. I need to talk to you... preferably where I can breathe without likely smelling an army of dirty, starving farmers."
As Ronin knocked, the door behind him, second on the left swung open. Seemed that in a 'spacer run group, directions could be shaky at best.
"Well you're not escaping the smell. No one makes perfume anymore." A woman, presumably Kelly said, "So suck it up, princess and say what you gotta say."
Turning around, the manliest princess on the planet grumbled at the idea that cleanliness wasn't taken serious by these people. It seemed Rubi really was the top of the society in this environment. Giving a tap to his headgear, the man's visor lost the heavy tint to reveal his face and a smushed mohawk running down his forehead.
"If that's how you want it, fine. I'm here to help you with these farmers. Whether by bullet or by work."
Kelly seemed to actually not be that filthy. Although she was certainly not clean. A slight woman with long blonde hair tied back into a ponytail and tucked under a top hat that had probably been pillaged from the former owners of the mansion. Long oilskin duster, still a little wet from the rain, and a similarly pillaged embroidered waistcoat. Boots caked in mud, finger-less gloves showing off blackened fingernails from working in muck and ink.
"Most peacekeeping is done by the machines these days." She said, leaning against the doorframe. Content to hold this meeting in the hall. "Although if any of the bandit clains come down we'll get every gun we got on it. You some sort of space farmer?"
"A space farmer, no. At least, not with my hands." As if to somehow show her the concealed hands, the man raised his right one. "I'm a mechanic. A builder, I guess on your world. I can make machines, with some tinkering and help from you people on what things need... that can help you grow shit."
While sitting in the hallway was fine, he couldn't take talking through his helmet. It seemed like a more alienating thing than the fact he was from a different world. Reaching to take hold of the body suit's fixture, he'd give it a slight twist and then carefully lift once the seal was removed. The stench hit him hard, but even as the man made a grumpy and annoyed snarl it didn't last long.
"Hopefully you don't grow actual shit... it'd explain the smell, that's for sure."
It seemed she didn't get that offended about the comments of smell. If anything, it was probably perfectly understandable.
"Well most of the earth around here is a layer of mud on rock. Hard to dig a privy out here. Most just leave it to slide down the mountain, or turn it to fertilizer. That an' a lot of folks are coming in seeing as there's space food being grown all up here. We also got mechanics on this planet too, but you aliens tend t' think what we got isn't worth using... You got any plans for what you can do t'help, or is this our show t' tell you what to do?"
"If it wasn't for the fact I'd left my giant robot back in the capitol, I'd be more than willing to take the lead. But, seeing as I'm short a metal monster that could have probably taken on your entire world... I'm here to do what you need done."
Part of it was that he did have plans, but had no resources or trust with the locals to make it happen. Unlike Uso, his employer, he lacked a giant checkbook to help the people who had been curious near the airfield when it came to his craft. After having been on the world as long as he had been now, however, the man wanted to help.
"If it's a dangerous job, give me some of your men or just come with me and we'll get it done. Let me prove to you guys that I'm not just another alien here to belittle you... in return, maybe you work with me to get some things built that would help the whole damn world. And, just maybe, get a vial of perfume and a bath."
Kelly gave a sharp smile and a small shake of her head, turning to step into the room behind her, waving Ronin inside. A small private library, with a heavy desk before glass doors to a small balcony that overlooked the old mining pits of Tyben.
"Mate, we get paid cash in the Brigade. We can buy anything we want from space with that cash. Perfume and a bath is small change compared to what the Sheriff's already got in the books for us. Pretty sure I can buy tiny robots which eliminate all body smells if I really wanted to..." She sat on the desk, pulling her coat about herself as the doors creaked open a little more with a cold mountainous wind. Some of the rain further mussing up the carpets.
"If you're lookin' to subjugate the mountain clans, we can call for a drop off for whatever gear you have from the capitol. Send you north and call it a day. If you want to build something... Well, you space folk are just about always ready to show off your smarts. We got men on contract deals here for working, we can get mechanics if you want a crew to build something. All I know we need is irrigation, but I'm not really a farmer, so I can't tell you all that'll help us. If you want to help us with what we're doing I can... Get you a shovel?"
Blasting mountain folk was certainly a fun idea. The idea of getting to build something and teach the mechanics on the planet how to handle some baseline equipment was certainly an interesting prospect as well. But with all this certainty, there was one thing made clear by her three goals. All three required sufficient tools to make somewhat decent progress... and one tool better than any shovel or small firearm was a giant warmachine. Walking forward and further into the library, the man looked to one of the nearby shelves passively. Right hand shifting over to his pistol's grip, he hummed to himself briefly.
"You can get me that call to the airfield to have my mecha air-dropped. Subjugating the clans might be a bit messy, though, don't you think? Maybe we do things... differently. Sorta like the Yamatai way. Aliens, I guess... but they tend to absorb their enemies and use them. Maybe we can do the same."
Moving ever close to the now sitting and rather dapper blonde, Ronin came to a halt where his orange-tipped mohawk was more than close enough to study in the smelly room.
"You're getting paid in riches, so maybe I help make you all heroes. The Brigade has a chance to do what the nobles couldn't. We do all this right and make those bastards join up as workers, fix up Colridge, and then help those farmers... I bet you're all viewed as heroes and made rich by the Sheriff."
Kelly took a breath. Then took a small tin from her pocket, and tapped her fingers on it a few times. Popping the lid on it, she took a pinch of what seemed to be snuff, and held it to her nose, snorting it with a little shake of her head.
"So you're proposing that we get the mountain cannibals and turn them into farmers... How exactly? I don't know this Yamatai other than what the Thieftaker General says, an' that's not much. But they've sounded like they jus' kill everyone."
"You're on the right track."
Watching the native do what had to be drugs, the man at least felt comfortable as he reached into his pocket with his free hand. One hand still craddling the helmet, he pulled a lone cigarette free between two fingers with the lighter between the thumb and outer two. It was a seasoned grasp that allowed him that sort of grip and control, bringing the deathstick up and between his lips before taking full grasp of the lighter. The click and flame were fast, the tool lowered only once the trail of smoke picked up and his gaze fixed on Kelly entirely.
"Yamatai," the man grumbled through partially closed lips while stashing the lighter in his coat once more, "Would make examples out of them. We find the biggest and baddest clan and fuck them over... maybe we dress you and some of the women and guys up as slaves or something. Whatever gets those assholes to think we're bigger and stronger... then we tell them it's our way or they're ground up. Meat is taken off the menu or we blow them to hell. A crater, our staged presentation... fancy way of screwing with their heads. An effective way, too... shock and awe, Buchanan. Shock and awe."
"What would dressing as slaves accomplish?" Kelly asked, depositing the tin back into her coat. "We've already driven 'em off with the Sheriff's machines anyway. But they're more interested in survival than they are about much else. If you kill 'em, it just makes 'em more desperate an' feeds the human hunger."
Dressing as slaves, obviously, was him just trying to get the snuffing blonde in skimpy clothes. But he did decide to chuckle and play it off as her simply not understanding some sort of 'space tactic'.
"Well, I guess if they're only interested in survival, then we have no choice... I figured the human instinct to fear would be enough to snap those idiots into loyalty, but I'll take your word on it. If we're going to kill them, are you going to clean up? Can't blame me for blowing chunks out of your mountains, either... because to kill people who hide in caves and under the ground, I'd need to tear into it. That'd only cause problems... which is why diplomacy seems best. It's either we think of a way to trick and capture them, deceive and possibly get them to help or work for us... or you and your people get stuck handling far worse work or having to rely on the Sheriff to help you out when or if she feels like it. Because I certainly won't be clearing up the landslides and debris from blowing the shit out of your range with my Tengu's rifle..."
"They don't live on my mountain." Kelly said with a little one-armed shrug. "Don't need to clear anything up north. You can blow up whatever you want out there. I'm just here to hold the line until someone goes out there an' sorts it out, if that's you then you can go ahead. We'll listen to you, give you information, but until we have more to go on we're just leaving the machines out there to blast apart anything coming around th' quarry. An' why would I clean up? Th' mansions just going to get dirty again in a second."
Seemed it didn't actually occur to her that she was the focus of things being cleaned. Indeed, it seemed that bathing on this planet was more a thing for big occasions, or the very wealthy to enjoy.
"Pft... I guess your world lacks the understanding of how cleanliness is good for your health. Or maybe you people don't like living long lives without smelling like a horse's ass."
Teasing aside, the man reached to his pocket and pulled free a cigarette for the blonde. He'd wiggle it briefly, turning and moving past the seated woman and her desk toward the glass door. But rather than pay respect and open it, he put his boot against the glass and the EVA suit did its job with his leg backing it. The glass shattered nice and loudly, his foot kicking around as he trashed it and then opened as per normal door etiquette.
"No need to clean that up. It'd just get broken again, right? You guys are meant to be leading and caring for people but you're too damn busy relaxing and being scared of the damn rain..."
Walking out without much hesitation, the sensation of water droplets falling on his noggin was certainly not the most pleasing. However, the fact was that he was annoyed with how she so casually turned the work off of her and relied on those junker drones to do the jobs for them. It was time to try and teach some sort of a lesson to the woman who would rather sit in the smelly, devastated mansion of the nobility they had blamed and dealt with before. At least back then, he waged with some safe idea, they had order and some sort of control over the area. If those drones weren't doing their job, it was quite likely the Brigade would be suffering with or without the backing of USO.
"Get your ass out here and take this cigarette. Point me to where those idiots are."
Kelly didn't seem impressed at Ronin's outburst. Then again, she didn't seem too worried about the state of the mansion either. The implications of his kicking out the door rolled off her back, the same way the rain dropped off her top hat as she stepped out and took the cigarette, pulling a compass out of her pocket and doing some quick mental navigation.
"About two days ride that direction." She pointed out over the old quarry, which was now a mess of waterfalls as the rain pelted down on it. Beyond that was a long stretch of Bloodtree forests that seemed to extend out to the horizon, over rolling hills.
"We'll call for your air drop so you can go tantrum the mountain clans to death."
"Two days ride... so if I take my Tengu I'd get there in no time. That settles it, then... you'll come with me."
Even if the rain had fallen harder, it wouldn't disturb the man and his near constant drag enhancing the smoke's flame. It was a quick burn, but it was wreathing him in smoke as it leaked from his nostrils and corners of his mouth.
"That is," he paused to reach up and remove the cigarette, turning to face the smelly boss-woman, "Unless you're yellow-bellied. Or chicken. Whatever the statement for a coward is on your world."
"Wuss." She said, tucking the cigarette away into her coat. "We riding, or am I going in some sort of flying ship for this? And do you need backup?"
"If we want to ride, let's get back-up... a few of your friends, if they can shoot straight. Otherwise, you can ride shotgun in the Tengu with me."
Turning his gaze outward over the rain-afflicted craters, the man could only sigh at the next possibly terrible idea.
"I do have an idea for terrifying the shit out of them, though... I need treasure metals and any steel. If we head down and get me some tools and a forge... I'll make you a suit of armor."
Unlike the Freespacer who could make junker drones operate and more or less mechanically subjugate an entire world, Ronin had a terrible idea when it came to the Brigade. Or, more critically, the leader that had decided to be his smelly partner for this operation.
"I'll make you a scratch-suit... a nickname friends of mine back in school had for armor. Makes you stronger, keeps you safe... it'll let you be able to run without tiring. I won't be able to make anything great since your planet lacks tools or proper materials, but I can make something that you'll be able to brag about. Afterward, you won't call me a wuss. You'll be thanking me and promising to take a bath as long as I let you keep it."
"You come from a planet with lots of water, don't you?" She asked simply, "Outside Tyben most water's too precious to waste for bathing, and soap made here burns your skin..."
"But sure. We can get you the metals. This place was the planet's largest active mine for the most part, just need to find people willing to go back into the pits if we don't have enough in store."
"Well, we can fly you out to a lake or something and you can scrub down. Until then... let's see if we can round up people to head into the pits. Find someone to help me get your measurements, too, unless you want to be in a suit that won't fit you properly."
Taking his cigarette, now almost soggy and falling apart, the man flicked it out and over the balcony to some muddy puddle below. Raising the helmet up, he didn't take but a single instant to pull the protective piece into the on-position. His mohawk was visible for a moment, but the visor flickering shut quickly hid that as he turned his gaze to the woman.
"Kelly, I won't lie... I've not made power armor beyond rough drafts and terrible dares from my military days. And that was more than my fair share of years ago. It can't be any dangerous than growing up on this world... but I have to briefly mention that I'll use one of the nuclear-powered bullets from my Tengu to power this. It's a possibility you could blow up... probably make a crater the size of a small house."
Kelly reached under the mantle of her coat which was now glistening with the rain on the balcony, pulling out some sort of spacer-made communications device that Arccos had probably hacked together in a shed somewhere in Osman city. A hazy blue hologram projected out of it, showing a screen as she input a message to... Someone. Probably the rest of the Brigade at large.
"I'll make a report to have you convicted of criminal negligence in the case of my death, if you're putting it that way. But I'll trust you. We'll see about clearing you out a workshop somewhere in town, and getting you whatever metals are needed. Just be warned that someone will probably turn up wanting you to fix a broken garden hoe or something..."
Being convicted of negligence was far from the worst thing. Having to clean her off his mecha and likely pick shrapnel out of his machine was far more unappealing. Either way, the man made sure to turn and start leading the way.
"If they do, you can help them. After all, if I mess up because of some idiot farmer, you're the one who's going to turn into a tiny sun for a few seconds before being evaporated from existence... more or less."
Kelly shrugged apathetically, clearly not that confronted by her own mortality being at stake.
"We'll point them in the right direction, just saying you should expect the potential for interruptions. Most people out here don't know what a mechanic is, other than the tinkers. Word'll spread fast that you're here doing something, anyway. Probably the most famous man in Tyben by now, aside from the old Robber Baron..."
"Well, if I'm famous then maybe the mountain clans will have some respect and surrender once I start blowing holes in their line and you're able to choke the life out of them while the rest harmlessly shoot at you."
As they made their way out of her lovely, if not filthy, library and down the stairs, Ronin didn't try to hide the fact of his weirdly-matched attire. The coat over the suit was clunky, but it did well for setting him apart in terms of the orange coloring and the resistent material. But with the gathered group downstairs he only had to come to a halt near the main entrance of the mansion and turn to face the largest groups.
"Any of you talented at mining or able to help out, we need people to acquire metals and tools for working on a suit of armor! It might sound hard to believe, but I'm going to make a suit that can help Miss Buchanan here take on an army of those cannibal assholes!"
A group congregating out in the muddy yard turned to look at Ronin. A couple laughed, and a couple of others just shook their heads. Eventually, one stepped forward. A young man, shaved head, with a thick beard. Dressed in an outfit that looked like rough-spun pajamas. White, with black arrow-like patterns all over it. Like a prison uniform. A thick blanket wrapped around his shoulders like a cloak to keep him warm, if not dry.
"Most of us were slaves in the mine." He explained, "We can get metal out of the pits, but you'd best be fuckin' payin', matey patatey."
Almost as if on cue, Ronin would feel a soft bit of pressure on his shoulder, as Kelly stepped up behind him and bapped the mech pilot on the shoulder with a wad of Brigade-issue banknotes.
Looking over to the coat-protected shoulder and the stack of bills, the man didn't hesitate to take it and then offer the whole damn thing to the guy.
"Fine. Assemble a crew. If you don't bring back results, I'll have the Brigade find you and then come blow you up with as many bullets as I want. We clear?"
The bald man snatched the wad of cash in a gnarled hand, slipping them under his armpit to keep them protected from the all-pervasive weather of the place. Turning back to the crowd, he decisively pointed out a few of the other collected workers who were wearing the same uniform as him, in part if not in whole. The group of them wandering over to the side of the mansion in a flock.
"They'll be putting their mark on a contract, although the actual sentence for violation of work orders is usually outlawry." Kelly explained, "But Maxon's a good man, he'll get it done one way or another."
Part of Ronin felt ready to argue that anyone who seemed so sleazy and quick to rush off with a handful of cash wasn't likely to be a good person... but Kelly vouched for the man. Unlike her, he didn't know enough about this planet or the people he was having to work with.
"Well, either way, let's get going. The saddle for the horse I got is more than big enough for two. You can ride in the back and lead us into town... certainly can't let them think I'm a spacer that can't tough it out like all of you."
Walking down and off from the mansion's doorway, the man made his way back to his steed. It wasn't exactly ideal to be riding around, but they had to get down to the forge and hopefully get the Tengu delivered close enough to recover one of its shells. Once he was up and atop the beast, he'd turn his gaze from his no doubt awkward position atop the animal and offer her a hand.
"Where are you having the stuff dropped, anyway? I didn't exactly see anywhere good besides maybe the riverside to drop a machine like mine. We'll likely need to go pick it up first to make sure we have the bullet needed to power this death-trap experiment."
"There's a clear platform down by the pit. It's where we get supplies dropped off for the Brigade." Kelly said, reaching up to snag Ronin's arm by the wrist, and expertly haul herself up on the horse. "Just follow the mush back to town, the place you're getting should be behind the saloon."
Thankfully, her grace and experience with horses had allowed easy mounting without pulling him from the steed. While he took the reins in one hand, the other moved to take hold of his sidearm's holster as he directed the horse around and back the way they came. Of course, this time he was heading right down to the town. He was already looking for a big, cheesy saloon based on his stereotypical ideas of this world.
"You know, Buchanan, I was serious about dropping you in a lake. If you can't swim, I'll just have to craddle you in my machine's hand. Urgh... I am glad this helmet keeps the smell out. It's like being able to breathe again."
"You complain a lot, Princess." Kelly said, without much malice in her voice, "Here's hoping your work is up to your own high standards, your highness..."
"I'm Ronin, not Princess. But, if it makes you feel better thinking you're riding behind a princess, then I guess go with that. Maybe I'll make the suit a little tight around the chest so by the time you take it off you'll be practically stripping nude just to breathe. Give the whole damn town a nice show."
Giving his name out felt worthless, of course, but he had a hunch that his adventures in Tyben weren't ending anytime soon. Angling the horse as they moved through the water-ravaged roads, he could only hope he spotted the saloon quick enough that he could get started on that armor. The idea of tossing her in a lake and forcing her to clean up was almost more appealing than getting to shoot up some Mishhu.
"I'll be sure to give you my measurements with a larger bust size, then." Kelly said coolly. More or less operating on the idea that Ronin's petty jabs were more detracting from him than her at this point. Also, this was a planet where courtesy was somewhat common. That was hardly a threat, all things considered.
The saloon in question was more or less what anyone would expect. A surprisingly short two floor building, with a heavy balcony on both floors. Even had the little swinging doors at the front. Behind it however was the 'workshop' promised. It looked more like a converted barn than anything else, possibly where the saloon once kept horses for visitors, but the yard by the side was full of some sort of steam engine apparatus which had been left outside to rust. Getting Ronin to pull his horse up close, Kelly hopped off and pulled a heavy key ring from her belt. Slid the right key, which she seemed to know by heart into the padlock on the front door, booting open the door and stepping inside.
"It's not much, but it's what we got. Not sure what a space workshop would even start to look like." she said.
The inside was dusty, and a little humid. Sturdy benches made from heavy and thick planks of the local wood lined the room, with something like a furnace against the far wall. A rusty anvil beside it. Tools of all sorts, some archaic, some of surprisingly modern design were on racks on the wall. Most of them with wooden handles maybe best handled with gloves to avoid splinters.
"Then again, the Brigade's workshop in Osman's crappier than this. Brigadier General made do."
Dropping down with a bit less grace than his fellow rider, the alien to the world moved inside and stopped only as he reached her side. It was certainly far from the stuff he'd used to repair ships or create emergency parts. Tossing his helmet first, both hands moved to grab hold of his coat, pulling it up and off while moving over to one of the benches. Tossing the coat down, he took no time partially removing the jumpsuit, putting much of his muscled arms and upper back on display thanks to his tank-top. The suit was quickly secured at his waist, leaving the man's upper half out of it for the first time yet.
"Urgh... well, it can work. I'll need some local metalworkers... people to help me shape and prepare plating for the suit. It's going to look really heavy, but... if I can fix the hydraulics up while here rather than rely purely on electrical... we might not need to invest gold or anything like that into technical parts."
Moving over to the tools, he pulled free one of them and studied it before turning to face the Brigade Girl.
"Kelly, unless you want to be motivation by either sitting there topless or cheering me on, you should find them and make the call. My mecha has the shells we'll need... so I need to work hard just to produce the bare minimum electronics and mechanical aspects of the suit. And get a pair of gloves before you wander off... it's just like high school all over again... except I'm building things from a primitive world's technological vantage and using one of my Tengu's explosive bullets to make a jury-rigged power-source... far from the hardest thing I've had to do."
