Pilot's Flask - a bar on LA

[Jane Hartman]

"They can't challenge us." There was a fire in Hartman's eyes. "The way you say it, the Gallics might as well have put the boot in Bretonia already. In case you missed it, the Kusarians have been trying for five years and took half a system. The Royal Navy'll be bleeding hard by the time they get here." She straightened in her seat, voice taking on a hard edge. "And don't you dare say Rheinland ain't a war. There's a lot of bodies that'd contest that. It don't matter how many ships there are in the fleet, one person trying to kill you is as good as ten. One bolt'll do the same to a ship, regardless of what House the gun that fired it came out of.

The economy might not be willing to support the war, and I sure as hell hope that's what you were talking about, because our boys and girls are better prepared for war than the Navy's been in centuries. You've been in there with them, Lewis. You've seen it. The Nomads, the Rheinlanders. If that doesn't make them combat ready then I'll be dead in the ground before you find something that does, and half of them'll be with me." The earlier warmth had vanished from Hartman's features. The troops had been fighting. She'd seen it, flown alongside them herself. They were ready for anything the universe could throw at them. To hear Lewis, of all people, implying otherwise was a slap in the face. A betrayal to the people both of them served that stung as sharply as any wound.

---

| Character Sheet | Laws of Liberty | Hartman's Theme | Feedback |