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OCTOBER
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22 October 2019
Sydney, NSW, Australia
When Derek collects the mail for Pietr and Chuck, he finds the usual junk, some fan mail, and one of Chantell's turquoise sticky notes.
-COME TO MY OFFICE @845 I HAVE AWESOMENESS FOR YOU TO DELIVER!!!!!-
It's 838.
No chance to make Striker in time, but maybe, just maybe, he can get to Chantell.
And he does!
"Oh, awesome, fantastic, you're here, this is great, where the hell did I put 'em AHA!" she beams, presents two oddly-sized envelopes ....
"They finally came," breathes Derek.
"They finally came!" squeaks Chantell.
They stare.
"Ye wanna take them?" she offers.
"Oh, right, uh, sorry." He nestles them beside his tablet.
"Yer late," scowls Chuck, standing by Striker's foot.
"Sorry," says Derek.
::We're doing just fine with one interpreter,:: Pietr scolds. ::But,:: he smiles at Derek, ::I'm glad you're here.::
Derek ducks his head. "I, uh ...." Stands straight. "Mail fer the two a' ye from the marshal's office."
Chuck looks to Pietr, eyes gleaming. "Conn-pod?"
::Conn-pod.::
"Meet us upstairs, yea?"
::Please.::
Derek shoots off.
(They beat him up, of course, but not by as much as one would think, given that Pietr and Chuck thought they would climb straight up when instead they had to switch lines twice.)
"Pietr, this ...," Derek rereads the address, "this's yers, 'n Chuck ...."
They tear them open in tandem.
-RANGER P A VOS
Congratulations on your appointment and upcoming launch!
I hereby present your new identification tags.
Enclosed are three copies of your basic identification tag and one data wafer. This fourth tag contains detailed contact information and medical history. Please keep them on your person at all times. See below for instructions on how to remove the tags from their frame and on its disposal.
Good luck, and thank you for your service to the Corps!
— Admiral John Chambers-
Pietr holds up the frame. ::Three?::
"T' switch one with yer co-pilot. It's tradition, see, it goes beside yers."
Pietr grins, tucks the packet under his arm, and lifts the ball chain from around his neck.
"When we suit up, there's a slot in the chest piece for 'em. Mine goes in first, then yers."
'Makes sense,' Pietr agrees, keeping his eyes up but still fighting with the stupid clasp.
"Uh, lemme—," Derek plucks them away. "Want me t' ...?"
Pietr nods.
"Fer all yer fairy magic, yer fine motor control leaves a bit t' be desired," Chuck grins, snapping free his new tags.
Pietr's eyebrows say 'funny', tilts his head to Derek.
The clasp gives and Pietr scrambles to catch all the pieces but his old tags fall to the floor anyway. He scoops them up and glances about.
"I kin, uh," Derek offers the scrap, "when I pitch this."
"Thanks," says Chuck, absently handing over his.
Pietr hesitates.
"I kin find ye a spare chain?" Derek suggests.
Pietr smiles, trades him for the lot, and tosses Chuck his spare just as Chuck tosses over his.
And rocks on his heels impatiently for Pietr to load his chain.
::Official copilots,:: Chuck grins.
::All we need now is a Jaeger.::
::Which we finally get t' test run tomorrow.::
::Can't wait to meet her.::
::She's a machine.::
::She's gonna be part of us.::
::Yea.:: Chuck pauses. ::Th' old man always talks like Lucky was alive.::
::Maybe she—::
::Always says he was a he.::
::Maybe he was.::
::Why'd ye say that?::
Pietr rolls his eyes. ::Science fiction? Advanced robots coming alive? Ring bells?::
::Yer quoting science fiction stories t' say my dad's Jaeger was alive—::
The Conn-pod lurches.
"Sorry!" hollers Billi.
"What th' hell!" yells Chuck.
She peers in the escape hatch. "Did not know anyone's in here, sorry 'bout that."
"You okay?"
"Uh, no. Not really, no." She waves her hand but aborts it. "Sliced my arm pretty bad on a suspension cable so, uh, going down, first aid, motherfucker this hurts." Smiles (or is it a grimace?). "Take care, boys." Disappears from view.
They kinda wave.
And then Chuck pokes Pietr's shoulder. ::It's still fiction.::
::We live in a world that has giant robots and giant monsters. Which we fight using giant robots. Which have advanced AIs.:: Pietr crosses his arms, projects 'And you?' to Derek and goes right back to being concerned. ::Are you okay?::
Derek, now a startling shade of gray, swallows. "Uh, I—" Swallows again.
"Do ye have an opinion on th' subject," snaps Chuck.
Derek wants to look away. "Hear things, outta Hong Kong, 'specially."
::Like what?::
"The red one—Typhoon—they say, well, it doesn't, ah, move how a robot, uh, should."
::Kinda how it was designed,:: Chuck points out.
::What've ye heard?:: asks Pietr.
"Um, heard some'ne say it's got, uh, great, um, 'great comedic timing'."
Pietr looks at Chuck and raises an eyebrow.
Chuck sighs. ::Nerd.::
::Copilot.::
::Officially.::
They grin.
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