Vixen's Vision (Winged Praxis Story)

==Description==
Short Series bases on the events triggered in the Winged Praxis (Battletech 3015 CYOA) main story around events of Chapter 12 & 13, focus on the pilot Diane "Vixen" Virgil, future of wife of Gideon. 
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==Chapter 1==
Recharge Station, Zenith Jump Pointl
Aitutaki System
Principality of Regulus, Free Worlds League
January 22d, 3015
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Captain Diane "Vixen" Virgil hummed happily to herself as she watched the Aitutaki kids chop away at each other, keeping their opponents' curved blades away with active use of their four-bossed dhal. She might have been born in the Duchy of Oriente, but these Regulans at the Aitutaki Academy had elevated the dueling culture of the League to a high art, and it was a pleasure to finally watch in person.
It was a shame that the show was being held on the grav-deck of an Olympus, though. Vixen would have much preferred watching the duel on Aitutaki Academy's grounds, sitting in the bleachers at the Contestant's Ring, watching the matches that she had thrilled to as a little girl, back in the Les Halles tunnels, back in the days when the open sky seemed like a dream.
 
I've come a long way since then, she thought, heel bouncing as she rested her hand on the pommel of the cutlass at her side. Even if I haven't given up all girlish things. She might not be able to win a command in the Contestant's Ring, but the redheaded warren rat would get the chance at an Aitutaki duel.
 
"Huh," said Candy, voice rumbling its way into her thoughts from over her shoulder. "Someone's giving you a run for your money as the wildest dresser here."
 
"I already noticed the feathered Canopian." said Vixen, referring to a lady whose iridescent harness was more revealing than it was really flattering.
 
"Naw," said Candy, straightening his vest. "You expect that sort of things out of Canopians." He nodded at a pair of men barely older than the cadets dueling in front of them. "We've got ourselves an old-school cowboy."
 
Vixen smiled as the duel was ended by a thrust that snaked around the edge of an underextended dhal, eliciting cheers from the crowd. "Who?" Her eyes landed on a curly-haired, bearded man wearing a duster, right as the man's face lit up in delighted surprise. "Oh."
 
"See you spotted him, Vix." chuckled Candy.
 
Diane nodded slightly as the man spoke excitedly to a Regulan in a patchless ASF driver's coveralls who stood next to him, looking far less enthused. 
 
"Hope he's not planning to challenge them to a quickdraw duel," she said.
 
"Can't imagine they'd accept," said Candy, adjusting the shielded glacier glasses he favored in place of aviators. "Besides, they've got some extra cadets to lose."
 
"They'd better," she said. "We could really use a couple new techs."
 
"Shame about Billy," said Candy, nodding. "But you and I both know that we're here because you want a swordfight."
 
"It can be both," she grumbled, knowing her longtime comrade was absolutely right. "Besides, even a CO deserves some R&R."
 
"Sure, sure," said the big Kuritan. "Go get your relaxation. Kami knows you've been tense lately. I'm gonna hit the bar."
 
"No you're not," she said. "Not yet anyway. I need you gladhanding the cadets."
 
"What am I supposed to do," he said. "Loom over them?"
 
She looked up at him. "Well, you've got natural talent." She rolled her eyes. "Just go ahead and regale them with the exciting opportunities for c-bills and glory the mercenary life offers. God knows they've got to be itching for it with the war winding down before they get a sniff."
 
"All while you put on a show?"
 
"That's the general idea," she said, turning to head for the sign-up desk.
 
The cowboy was there, though he was asking about European longswords, rather than talking about pistol duels. And, looking closer, he hadn't committed to the bit with a revolver, but had a surplus automag in his holster instead. He also was wearing a flight suit like his Regulan buddy's under the long coat.
 
"And here I thought I was being clever." she said as the man placed money down for duels in two different rulesets.
 
The man turned to look her over, eyes widening in surprise at her elaborate get-up, lips pursing as if to ask a question, before his gaze landed on the aviators hanging from her jacket pocket and he nodded unconsciously, an unmistakable look of comprehension washing over his face.
If I didn't know better, she thought, I'd say he recognized me. But I'm not nearly that famous.
 
"Great minds think alike." said the man in an accent that owed something to those old Terran 'westerns' that Shortstop was so fond of. He smiled. "I think you might be more dressed for the part than I am, though."
 
Well now, she thought, raising an eyebrow. "Was that a crack?"
 
He shook his head, and there was something genuine in the smile. "Jealousy, if anything." he said. "I don't think I could pull off that hat." He unhooked his gunbelt, setting it aside and revealing a big old sheath knife that would ride at the small of his back.
 
Diane found herself smiling back, and nodded at the aviators in his pocket. Might as well get this out in the open. "Are we in the same business?" she asked, pulling off her baldric and untying her holster.
 
He offered her his hand by way of answer. "Duster." he said.
"Vixen," she said, shaking the hand, pleased that he didn't even make a pretense of trying to crush her more slender fingers, just giving a firm squeeze.
 
"Air Lance and a patrol tug," he said, "currently on a security contract through Canopus." The long coat and flat-topped rancher's hat joined his weapons in a locker,
 
Good work for a small outfit like that, she thought as she unbuttoned her reefer coat and pulled out her cravat. And Canopus…she thought back to the lady wearing the feather harness. Periphery isn't great pickings, but that's a fun place to spend a paycheck. "Fun. I've got a squadron and a Leopard," she boasted, before shifting a bit. "We're between contracts," she admitted.
 
He cocked his head to the side, eyes lighting up a bit. "Don't know if you're willing to do Periphery work," he said. "But I've got solid intel that there's going to be some cadre work around Canopus in about a month and a half."
 
Why would you… Diane's mind raced as she tried to figure out why the man would just share that with her. "Solid intel you're willing to give away just like that?" she asked, feeling her brows draw together and her eyes narrow. She held her hat in front of her for a moment. What are you playing for? "Not worried I'm going to steal the contract?"
 
He shook his head, smiling that sincere smile. "Not in the slightest. There's going to be plenty of work." He unzipped his flight suit, shrugging out of the arms and tying them around his waist, leaving only a buff undershirt over his G-toned chest.
 
Huh. Guess someone hasn't got bit in the contracting phase. She did likewise with her flight suit. "That confident, huh?" she asked, stripping out of her undershirt.
 
"Un poco," said the man, not even blinking at her sports bra, but continuing to share that smile with her as he shrugged on a fencing jacket and held one out to her. As soon as she took it, he started stretching.
 
That's a nice butt, she thought, words popping into her head unprompted as she put on her own jacket. "Well, we might see you out there," she said, rolling the idea around in her mind. "I was thinking of taking a contract out here, but the rebels look like a bad bet, and I don't relish going up against the Dragoons." She stretched her spine back, not bothering to do up the fencing jacket. "Always meant to take a Canopian vacation."
 
The man laughed warmly, pulling on a pair of gloves. "If I'm right," he said, in a tone that promised something, "Canopus is hard up for ASFs." The corners of his mouth twitched into an even larger smile. "Could be lucrative even over the long haul."
 
"I'll keep it in mind," she said. If I can find a contract to cover the costs…she reached up to pull her hair back, only to realize she had put her hat back on at some point. When did I… "What do you fly?" she asked as she took the hat off and started gathering her hair again.
 
"Until recently," he said with a wistful air, "I was a Sabre driver." His smile turned rueful. "Our unit has a Corsair and Stingray, though. You?"
 
Missing the Gs, or do they have more pilots than spaceframes? Vixen wondered. She smiled. "I fly the Cheetah. We've got paired Cheetahs, Sabres, and Centurions."
 
"Very nice," he said, with what she thought was some jealousy. "Swap some war stories after this?" he offered, fencing mask in hand.
 
She gave him an inviting smile. "I'll see if the bar has any Weed," she said, by way of answer.
 
"So nice to meet someone who speaks the language." he said, picking up his feder.
 
Yes it is, Diane thought as the other pilot walked over to his duel, then shook her head and grabbed the short gymnasium saber she'd be using. Sincere smiles and a nice butt could wait. She had a duel to fight, one she had waited a long time for.
----
==Chapter 2 - Vixen's View 2==
Recharge Station, Zenith Jump Point
Aitutaki System
Principality of Regulus, Free Worlds League
January 22nd, 3015
 
The sword went flying out of the cadet's hands.
 
Diane had been paired up with a giant of a man, raising disapproving rumbles from the crowd that had remained to watch the paid duels. The Aitutaki cadet was at least full head taller than her, and she was not a short woman. She could understand why people thought the cadet with shoulders twice as broad as hers would be an unfair match.
 
She was just disappointed that she hadn't gotten that lightning-quick girl with the armor tabs. Lucky cowboy.
 
Her opponent was strong, energetic, and fast. His athleticism couldn't be denied. But he swung the saber like a flail. And now, she had sent it flying from his hands. Even through his fencing mask, she could see the shock on his face, and she exulted in the sounds of shock from the crowd.
 
"Pick it up," she commanded, menacing him with the trainer's blunted tip. He paused, hands wide, seeming to consider just rushing her. "Pick it up," she repeated, pulling the tip back as she shifted into an edge-up guard, stepping to the side.
 
The cadet did, walking stiffly over and picking up his saber. Snapping it down in a savage cut at the air, he turned to face her, helpless anger and despair painting his dark features.
 
Diane waited for him, blade low and back, hilt resting against her foreleg.
 
He came at her in a whirlwind of steel, leaping, striking, swapping hands, spinning about, blade threatening her from every angle. She met his assault in a meditative flow state, blade interposing against cuts to her sides, guiding a thrust wide with the turn of the wrist, swaying out of the way of a chop from above.
 
Even as she did so, she wove her own bladework in, threatening, but not hitting targets even as he pressed his attack. Wrist, waist, heart, wrist. Head, head, head. To the crowd it would have looked like she was holding her own. But to anyone with bladesense, it was obvious. She owned this duel. The cadet, for all his energy, for all his size and strength, he was dancing to her tune.
 
"Just end it," he hissed as she sent him stumbling past, turning in time with her opponent.
 
Vixen came back to herself. Had she really done this? Been so concerned with milking a childhood dream that she'd toyed with a cadet like that? 
 
Obviously.
 
The cadet spun back to her with a wild cut at waist level, overbalanced. She straightened, and leaned forward, sword whipping out at full extension, catching her opponent on the crown of his head.
 
There was a deafening moment of silence, and then the crowd roared.
 
I'm sorry, mouthed Vixen to the cadet, who merely turned and walked away.
"Get what you were looking for?" asked Candy as the two of them walked towards the only bar on the station that stocked Weed.
 
"Mmmm," grunted Diane, thinking back to the look on the cadet's face. So much for making a good impression for recruiting. "What about you?"
 
"Hey, I've been kept away from the bar till now, Vixen," said Candy. "But assuming you're talking about my adventures in recruiting…"
 
She rolled her eyes. "Yes, that."
 
"Well, then I think I did alright. Didn't get any of the cadets to sign on just yet, but there were a couple of disaffected civilian techs just starving for a bit of excitement who saw your display and started thinking maybe some of that might rub off on them."
 
 Diane raised an eyebrow. "Any that might be a potential problem?"
 
 "Don't think so," said Candy. "Looked like the manly man type were intimidated by you taking apart that big fellow."
 
Vixen quirked a smile. She had made quite a statement. "That's fair, I suppose."
 
"And if I'm wrong, we've got a lot of airlocks to choose from on the Queen Anne," he joked.
 
"Spoiled for choice," she said, smile growing wider as they opened the door to the bar, looking about for Duster and his friend.
 
"And now you get your other entertainment for the evening," teased Candy.
 
"Rokuro!" she said, turning to give him an annoyed punch, but he was nodding at something behind her. Pausing, she looked back to see the cowboy sitting with his Regulan friend.
 
Duster flashed that big smile and raised a tumbler of some amber liquid, waving at her. "Vixen, hey! Let me introduce you to Socks!"
 
"Uh oh," murmured Candy, sotto voce. "Good luck."
 
"Shut up," she said out of the corner of her mouth, then returned the cowboy's smile as she walked over. Duster's Regulan friend…Socks, apparently, had a wrestler's build and was shorter than his friend. Actually, if she was right, he was a little shorter than she was. The man held a stein of some local beer in one hand, and there were was still a little foam hanging onto the corner of his dark mustache. He looked of an age with Duster, if she was any judge. Cute enough…
 
She looked back to Duster. Damn that smile! She slid into the booth next to the curly-haired man. "No bottle of Weed?" she asked. "I coulda sworn they stocked it here."
 
Duster shrugged as Candy took the seat next to Socks, bumping fists in a friendly gesture. "Didn't know how long we'd be waiting for you two, and didn't seem right to start in on a bottle by ourselves," said the one-time Sabre driver. "So we got a round to wait." He cocked his head to the side. "Care to join us before we all take the plunge?" He pushed a drinks menu over to the Crossbones pilots.
 
"Were you waiting long?" asked Candy, addressing it to Socks.
 
"Barely at all," replied the Regulan. "How'd your recruiting go?"
 
Diane tuned them out. "What are you having?" she asked Duster.
 
He tapped an entry on the menu. "Shaahee Ambar, neat." He jerked his head at Socks. "This joker assured me it was whiskey."
 
Socks looked away from his conversation with Candy. "It's the most popular whisky in the Principality!" he objected.
 
The look on Duster's face as he took another sip said it all. The wince, the raised eyebrow, the twinkle in his eye that communicated the poor benighted state of drinking in Regulan space. "Well, I can't say people would agree back home," he said in a mild tone.
 
Vixen laughed. "Sounds perfect for a way to work up to Weed," she said. "I'll have the same."
 
"Your funeral," he said, keying the order into a terminal built into the table. "And you?" he asked to Candy.
 
As the Kuritan ordered a gin, Diane read the user info displayed on the screen. Zalman, Gi…something. Account connected through Bankhead Lines. That must have been the security contract he was talking about earlier.
 
The cowboy gave the terminal a slap as he pressed the enter key, then gave her a rueful grin. "Apparently it's the way to get the order to go through," he explained.
 
"I'm not gonna complain when you're buying me a drink," she said, nudging his shoulder.
 
He chuckled. "Don't tell me that till you taste it," he said, swirling his drink in it's glass. He nodded to the waitress who had just brought the drinks over.
 
Diane had to admit, Shaahee Ambar was a pretty rough excuse for whiskey. Ethanol burned against her taste buds as she swigged it, but the warmth that spread out through her guts was about right. "So, you talked about swapping stories," she said with a smile.
 
He shook his head with an answering smile. "Hey, I bought the first drink. Means you're on the hook for first story."
 
"Right," she said. "Where are my manners? Well, I guess I can start with my first contract against the Outworlds." She launched into the story of the campaign that had shattered two mercenary squadrons as they ran headlong into a surprisingly elite Periphery ASF squadron and a swarm of excellently handled conair fighters. She was pleased to see Duster paying rapt attention to the story. For all that she'd ended up on the losing side of that campaign, it was special to her. When their Kuritan employers had tried to snap up the shattered remains of the mercenary squadrons, she and Candy, who had been flying for the other merc squadron, had gotten together a few other pilots and started Crossbones...
 
She took another drink. She and Candy were the only ones left from those days. "Anyway, that's how I ended up in command of my merry bunch of rogues," she said.
 
"Wingthing to squadron commander's quite the jump," he said. "Impressive. Not to mention picking up three kills as support."
 
She beamed, and poured a pair of shots from the bottle of Weed that had showed up as she bragged. "So how many kills do you have under your belt?"
 
He raised four fingers. "I'm a little newer in the game than you," he admitted.
 
She chuckled. "CO, and you're not even an ace yet?"
 
He shrugged, as if to say 'what can you do?'. "I wasn't even command track," he said. "Things just worked out that way."
 
Socks broke away from his conversation with Candy, and elbowed his friend. "Hey, stop playing modest." He looked at Diane with droopy eyes. "What Duster's not saying is that three of those kills were in one sortie."
 
"Oh, come on," said the cowboy. "That's my best story. I can't lead with that."
 
Diane looked incredulously at Duster. "I think I have to hear this."
 
"L'chaim," he said, before knocking back his shot of Weed. "Well, I was going to spare Socks the embarrassment of telling about his first silk elevator ride…at least until we were a little drunker and I could honestly say I didn't think we'd remember."
 
Socks blew a raspberry at him. "I got nothing to be ashamed of."
 
"Keep telling yourself that, cabron." Duster rolled his eyes and focused back on Diane, who had just swigged her shot of Weed and was refilling the glasses. "Anyway, we're flying CAP against the Eighteenth Marik Militia, and we come up on this oblivious pair of Reivers carrying bombs, so we bounce them. Damn near smoked Tail-end Charlie on the first attack, then I make the call to press on the leader." He gave a rueful smile at that. "Lead Reiver drags us at full boost, and just before we can kill the leader, the first guy reengages."
 
"Uh oh," said Diane, "lots more guns on the front of a Reiver than the back."
 
He nodded, knocking back another shot. "Es verdad, hermana." He placed the shot glass back down and brought up his hands to illustrate the maneuvers, pinky and thumb out in the style of pilots immemorial. "So we break, and the wingman turns in on me." He demonstrated with his hands. "I firewall the throttle, and climb over his AC shot, but he pulls up into me for the SRMs."
 
Vixen nodded, enjoying the story. Honestly, Duster's tactics could use some polish, but he was here to tell the story. "So…" she prompted.
 
"So Socks had turned in to try and clear my tail, but the lead Reiver kept that from happening. And I'm torch to all those SRM tubes." He flipped the hand representing himself nose down, and twisted it to the side in a complex three-dimensional arc. "Gave them my nose and kicked in lateral to try and make the shot that much harder for him."
 
Vixen's eyebrows shot up and she straightened in her seat. That wasn't a maneuver she would have expected a pilot with such rough tactics to be able to pull off, or even think to attempt. Light fighters had the thrust for non-aerodynamic supermaneuverability, but it was one thing to know of the possibility, and another to actually pull it off in atmosphere, much less in live combat. "Really?" she asked, tracing her finger around her shot glass.
 
The other pilot shrugged. "He still got a piece of me with the missiles."
 
Vixen shook her head, wondering at the implication that the maneuver had been a failure.
 
"Anyway," said Duster. "He wasn't able to keep on his torch with the previous damage, so I dove on him and cut apart his torch."
 
"That's one," said Diane, pouring another pair of shots.
 
"Yeah," said the cowboy, "next guy held off Socks and me with LRMs for a while. Eventually we got close enough that I nearly had to kiss the ground to avoid a LRM flight, and he took off Socks's wing with his cannon." He jerked his head at his fellow merc. "So he rides the rocket before the Reiver driver turns the Sabre into vapor with his SRMs." He chuckled, holding the shot of Weed. "Fucker has the gall to do a victory roll, so I come up out of the valley I nearly buried myself in and tickle him with my beams." The shot disappeared down his throat and the hands came back up to demonstrate, fingertips pointing at each other. "I roll his AC burst as we merge, then saddle up to clear the airspace for SAR. Just before I'm about to splash him, GCI calls a pop-up two ship of Eagles."
 
Vixen downed her shot. That was not odds she would want to take in an intact Cheetah, let alone a damaged bird. "I assume you took down the Reiver," she said. "But that's two. You engaged them?"
 
Duster nodded. "Yeah, I finally did the smart thing with the Reiver." He leaned back in the bench. "Anyway, I knew there was no way SAR could get in with those Eagles about, and we'd just pissed off an armor and mech column before getting in the dogfight."
 
 Diane got the implication. It wouldn't be the first time a pilot had been 'handled roughly' by ground forces they'd just hit.
 
"So I called for help," he said. "Because I might be brave, but eema didn't raise a fool. Looked like I was going to have to run, but it turned out the Commandant was running a two-ship of Stingrays. Ordered me to drag em into an ambush."
 
Diane nodded, then stopped as something caught her attention. "Commandant? Where was this?"
 
He scratched at his beard in what looked like embarrassment. "New Olympia," he admitted. "We're former LMS cadets."
 
"Oh," she said, realizing that they were really new to this. "Then…why…"
 
"Are we mercs now?" cut in Socks. "Duster punched a noble. And I agreed with him."
 
The bearded pilot sighed and shook his head. "There's more to it than that," he said.
 
Socks laughed uproariously. "Yeah there is!"
 
Duster shook his head again. "I'm gonna need more Weed to get into that. Anyway, long story short, dragged the Eagles into friendly sights, then helped out. Got the kill on one of them, before the other tagged me with an 8cm. Blipped me out, and I barely pulled out of the dive. RTBed right after." He spread his hands. "Anyway, yeah. Three kills in a sortie."
 
"Well, I'm impressed," she said. Which was true. Even if his tactics kinda sucked, he was apparently one hot hand on the stick. And it wasn't like he didn't realize that he'd made some stupid calls, if the comment about finally doing the smart thing was something to go by. "We should do some DACT."
 
"I'd never pass that up," he said, scribbling a note. "Tomorrow?"
 
Tonight, she thought, but said "If we're not too hung over, yeah," before licking the last drop of Weed from her shot glass. "Let's see," she said as Candy got Socks's attention again with a question about something local. "My turn?" she asked with an inviting smile.
 
He nodded with a smile, pouring the shots for them this time.
 
"I suppose I could tell the story of my fifth kill," she said, laughing at the mock-offended face he put on. "Or I could talk about the lowest altitude bombing run I ever pulled."
 
"I've done a bit of low-level flying," he said mildly.
 
"Through a mine?" she asked, laughing as he nudged the shot glass towards her. "Okay, so this one was for the Kuritans again…" Again, she wove a tale of high-, or in this case, low-flying derring do, pleased by the way those dark eyes focused on her.
 
----
"If you're stuck in conair, son, then my advice to you," caterwauled Socks and Candy, weaving back and forth as they stood on the booth's padded bench.
 
"Then drink the fucking bottle man, there's nothing left to do!" replied Duster and Diane from where they leaned against each other on the other bench. Diane knew their singing voices were atrocious, but she didn't care in the slightest, enjoying the feel of the body heat of the curly-haired man next to her and his arm around her shoulders. "TIC One!" they called out.
 
"TIC Three!" sang a voice from behind them, and a body thumped against the bench back.
 
"When you've got nothing left!" chorused everyone. "TIC Two!"
 
"It's the blazer in your chest!" hollered the pilots, even as the voice behind them said "It's that lightning in your chest!"
 
"TIC Three, the only friend you ever need!" sang the pilots, matched by the other voice, even if he did say TIC One.
 
"That cocksucker, motherfucker, Jerimiah Weed!"/For cocksucking motherfuckers, triple PPC!"
 
"Fuck off with your bullshit, tinny," slurred Socks, leaning over the table so far he was in danger of falling onto it.
 
"Fuck you, man," said the voice, that belonged to an obvious mechwarrior. "I'm just singing with ya."
 
"You're doing it wrong," rumbled Candy.
 
"Ah, piss off," said the mechwarrior, placing a comradely arm around Duster and Diane. "You two know the lyrics, right?"
 
Diane met Duster's incredulous gaze, and the two of them reached up in unison to grab the man's collar.
 
The crash his body made as they threw him into the table, breaking it, wasn't quite as sweet of music as Jerimiah Weed, but it would do.
It was a shame the tinny's friends didn't agree, reflected Diane as she broke one of their noses with her cutlass's guard before slapping another silly with the flat of her blade. It really had been a lovely bar.
 
----
Diane leaned against Duster, catching her breath as the other pilot peered around the corner of the alcove they had ducked into.
 
"Think we lost them," he said, bringing his breathing back under control. The beginnings of a shiner painted his jaw a darker shade from where he and that mechwarrior had been going at it hammer and tongs before Socks had blindsided the intruder with a stool. "You are really something with that sword," he said with a grin, nodding at the cutlass at her waist.
 
"You," she said, placing a finger on his chest, "Aren't too shabby yourself."
 
"Thank you kind…" he started, but couldn't finish as she pressed her lips to his.
 
He stiffened in surprise for a second, but almost immediately returned it. The kiss tasted of Weed, sweat, and a little tang of coppery blood. Vixen licked her lips as they paused for breath and hummed happily, taking in the hungry look on his face. "Really something…" she said, only to yelp in pleased surprise as Duster dove back in for another fierce kiss, hands roaming her body. His weight pressed her back into the other side of the alcove, and she grabbed a handful of his ass as she wrapped one leg around his.
 
Lips moved from lips to jawline, necks, shoulders, teeth nipped at sensitive skin, hands dove beneath fabric, and panting breaths just as hard as the ones from their run filled the alcove. Diane found herself with her legs locked around Duster's waist, hanging onto his neck as he buried his face in her cleavage.
 
"I…Ah!…love the enthusiasm," she moaned. "But wouldn't you like to take me back to my bed so we can really howl?"
 
The man froze, then mumbled something into her chest. Slowly, he put her down, a stricken look on his face. "I…I can't do this," he said, staring down at the deckhead.
 
"You were doing pretty good by me," encouraged Vixen, feeling the moment slip away, but not willing to just let it go without trying.
 
"No I…" he looked up at her, a torn look of helplessness in his eyes. "I'm sorry," he got out. "I want to," he said, gesturing to his body, which agreed with his statement. "Lord, I want to."
 
"So do," said Vixen, reaching out a hand to stroke his bearded jaw. "I want it too."
 
He flinched away from her touch. "No!" he snapped. "I…I have this thing…Terri…" He stood there for long moments. "I've hurt her already…" he whispered.
 
Ah, thought Diane. "Girlfriend?" she asked gently.
 
"It's…complicated," he said in a hollow tone.
 
Diane shook her head. Why people overcomplicated things never made any sense to her. Define your terms and stick to them. It was a simple rule that had served her well. "Well, I can take no for an answer," she said, with a disappointed flick of her tousled hair. "I'm still up for DACT tomorrow or later…maybe even more if you change your mind."
 
"Sorry," said Duster. "I would but…"
 
Diane shook her head. "Can't always get what we want," she said, as much to her own body as the other pilot. She pulled her clothing a little straighter as she walked away.
 
-----
Vixen made it to her rented stateroom before she let out a wordless sound of frustration and flopped down on the bed.
 
"It's for the best," she argued to herself. "I don't want to be anyone's mistake." She thought back to comforting a childhood friend who had come to her crying, after a boy she had though she was seriously dating revealed the morning after they'd had sex that he had a serious relationship and regretted everything he'd done with her. It had damn near shattered Soph to have poured everything into that guy, only to be tossed aside like a poorly-considered shirt.
 
"Not that I was doing any life planning," she said. "Just wanted to get a leg over." Her mind wandered to a version of events where she hadn't asked him about moving to bed, and things had continued. "Alcove sex would suck," she said firmly. "I've already got enough bruises from the night." Her libido remained unconvinced.
 
"Oh, shut up you," she said to her body, and grabbed a bottle of rum. "It is too late to head back out." She opened the bottle and took a healthy slug. "I'll take care of you tomorrow," she promised herself. "There's Canopians about. I can find someone to scratch my itch." Cheered by the thought, she hit the lights and let herself drift off.
 
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==Note from the Author==
*; Word from the Author : Hopefully this edit should make things a little easier to read than the initial posting.Here's a few notes, just so this isn't formatting only:In the first scene, Diane doesn't know it, but the cadet she fought was Jai Saidu, the infantry officer cadet who signed up with TASS alongside his boyfriend, Kalpit Datta. The cadet she wanted to fight is, of course, Ikshita Datta, Kalpit's armor officer sister. The duel itself was based on the `74 version of The Deluge, with Vixen standing in for Wolodyjowski and Jai for Kmicic. Highly recommended, a member of my top ten cinematic sword fights for sure.The bagging on Shaahee Ambar is a reference to India being the world's largest whisky/ey market, and a reflection of my preference for bourbon and scotches. When Duster starts telling his story, Vixen is being somewhat nice about his tactics being 'rough'. Duster is a really good natural pilot, which allows him to recover from pretty egregious tactical errors, alongside his personal luck. But there's a reason Socks was shot down, and it's mostly Gideon's fault.The bar fight is touched off by a conflict over the singing of Jeremiah Weed, which is based on the real fighter pilot song Jeremiah Weed by Dos Gringos. For more in-universe context, please see the informational post on it. Amusingly, Gid would probably attribute the song to a 'couple of gringos', but he wouldn't capitalize it. It's also a reference to Diane's canon write-up in the TROs where it's noted that she uses her cutlass in bar brawls.We see here a bit more of the night from Vixen's POV, mostly because while she doesn't remember the whole night either, having hit the bottle hard herself, she can hold her alcohol better than Gideon and she was focused on different things.Finally, if you're curious, go ahead and take a look back at the CMC TOE for July 3015. There's a few changes in mechwarrior land, but all three active squadrons of CMC's ASFs: Skull, Crossbones, and Cutlass are filled out, and full of both historical and pop culture references to be deciphered if you find that fun.
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Vixen's Vision
Vixen's Vision
Vixen's Vision