"Kalashnikov's", Zvezdny Gorodok

[Xing]

Xing smiled slightly as he added some values to his formula, and looked at captain Ares,
"I was more talking about, the chinese really. Mother taught me to be very proud of my people, you know. Though she despised the coalition... she still loved our civilisation very much."

He sighed, and uploaded some music from the jukebox to his datapad, while setting it as the next music to play.

"However, I have yet to make contact to a chinese. All I've seen are... vietnamese mostly." he chuckled, and added,
"Of course, I don't really know all our personnel... living in a always-moving shipyard doesn't encourage a lot of socialising, doesn't it?
He smiled, but it was a sad one, and drank from his cup.
"Captain Ares, wouldn't you feel alone if you learned you were all alone on this side of the war, and maybe, there were no survivors from your race on the other side, either?" he said, continuing to write on his pad.

---

[bluntpencil2001]

"I knew you meant Chinese, Xing... the Marx is full of the buggers. Heheh. Anyway, like I said, Lieutenant Gabriel Mau is of Chinese descent, and aboard the Ho Chi Minh, the crew are of Vietnamese, Korean and Chinese origins... not that it makes much of a difference these days... we'll never see Terra again. We're all the same, my brother."

He looked sad though, so stopped to think... then gently removed a knife from his boot, sitting it on the table.

"Do you know what this is?

The head of every Corsair family carries one... a knife, forged from the remains of the vessels that crashed on Crete, centuries ago. It never leaves my sight.

Until la Havana defected, I was the only Corsair in the revolution. I know how it feels. But, the way I see it, we are all the same in the Coalition... we're all on the right side. Blood might be thicker than water, but you have to do what you know to be right... anyway... we're going to win, and then there will be peace for the people, and rest for ourselves. We can do it... we're a well-oiled machine, working together for the good of the sector."

He stops and attempts to lighten the mood. It is a bloody pub after all.

"You're not alone, Xing, not by any margin. It's just that a lot of us don't like rice in the mess hall as much as you'd like, am I right?!"

---

[Xing]

Xing managed to laugh at Ares comment, and smiled at him, looking slightly better.
"Ah captain, you have no idea how long it has been since I last ate any rice. Seems only Kusari produces that kind of thing these days, and I'm not feeling like flying to the dirty imperial space just to get a sack of that!"
Xing thought for himself how silly a lone revolutionnary fighter looked like, destroying a kusari rice cargo just for the fun to eat some old fashionned food...
He regained some seriousness, and tapped some last modifications to his pad. The screen flashed positively in green, and a small render of a fighter craft appeared, with the legend "Partisan 00" underneath it. Xing seemed satisfied and replaced the datapad in his pocket after shutting it down.
"But, I certainly wouldn't mind blowing some of these weak sushi-eaters someday soon..." He smirked, and finished his drink, "Can't wait to finish the job of my ancestrors. Yes captain, we will be victorious for the sake of the people. And free the rice from imperialism!"

---

[desecrator]

"Bartender, something strong please."

Nikolai walked in the bar looking worn out and tired, holding his datapad tight in his hand. He had multiple blueprints and records opened scrolling through them as he took a sip from his drink. The bartender looked curious,

"What's that you have there?"

"Research, Captain's orders."

Nikolai perked his head up and heard the music playing through the bar.

"Lets change that..."

He got up and plugged his datapad in the jukebox, uploading one of his favorite and hitting play. He walked back over to his bar stool and and drank half his glass down. He opened the research he had on his datapad again and started whispering words under his breath. The Bartender could see pictures of blue ships running across the screen.

"Nom..."

Nikolai looked up at the Bartender with an angry look on his face, he finished his drink and threw a few credits on the table, walking out quickly before any more questions could be asked.

---

[bluntpencil2001]

Ares watched Nikolai enter, guzzle a drink and stick a song on.

He expected him to come over and tell him how things were getting on, but he left. That would need looking into, he might be overworked with his secret missions. That and the little bastard just put on a crap song then left. Cheeky bugger. He sniggered, shook his head and headed up to unplug the jukebox from the power supply before reconnecting it, forcing it to restart, and putting on his own song, wondering how songs like Varnava's got onto the jukebox in spite of the 'No Emo' sign pasted to it, and the firewalls to prevent such an invasion in its hard drive.

"Y'know, if he wasn't one of our best pilots, half the bar would have shot his pasty ass right there..." said Ares, a grin on his face.

---

[Othman]

Miroslav was enthralled with his routine fatigued guise on the visage, as he reclined to capture a conjuring and enjoining gander from Captain Ares. The initiative elongated nod of both comrades contributed towards the perplexing silence just before Baranov engaged tensing his TT-33 with sapped hands and the very thirst that riveted him to a deformed steel desk in the trial of indicating his eloquent plea.

Consequently, he was in the game soon to divulge a condensed document as well, while reiterating on a sole lexeme to himself, 'enfilade'.

---

On the uncharted lagoons of anguish, I sail with a canoe made of my sins.

[Othman]

Ares set forth, in some doubt whether he should arbitrate the restless instant, his young zealot was altercating against. As he arranged a step forward, he had already swayed himself to commence a dialogue and ensnare attention, which interpreted by his impatience to get possession of the document, as early as he could.

However, the documents title in bold fonts made him stand stock-still and survey Miroslav with a look of melancholy interest.

Harvest overnight?

As a second surprise, he recieved a prompt response of obscure predilection.

Captain, I have only the most indistinct recollection of what happened at the retaliatory safeguard of Leon..

---

On the uncharted lagoons of anguish, I sail with a canoe made of my sins.

[bluntpencil2001]

Ares kicked back on his chair across from Miroslav, slowly flicking through the draft document with interest and a critical eye.

"Looking good... although we should take something from the ancient Lenin, Mao and Guevara texts on guerrilla warfare particularly on the likes of agitating public opinion, putting the prime focus of our original work and research on how best to extract oneself from big, furball battles that we don't want involved in and the like.

You're an expert on the tactical retreat and the use of an area's geography in combat, that is what needs to be in here... we don't need to tell folk basic fighter techniques, such as 'how to dodge', we need to focus on our own, particular, asymmetrical style of warfare. Knowing when to run and when to fight. Et cetera, et cetera.

Right, aside from that, the language is a bit too... complex, I think. We need recruits to read this and understand it from square one. Keep the writings simple, then we can build complex strategies upon them."

The barmaid, becoming quite the expert on knowing exactly when to arrive, brought another couple of beers.

"On your tab, Captain?" she asked, slightly nervously. Ranking officers were known for being insane. She had heard Ares wasn't like your Britanovs, Frogs or McIntoshes, but it paid to be careful.

"Of course," replied Ares, in a laid-back tone. The Lieutenant Commander was putting in a lot of overtime, a beer was the least he could do.

"So, what do you think?"

---

[LancerZero]

Arkady strode through the door, lost in thought and listening to an interesting take on an ancient children's rhyme on a pair of headphones attached to his datapad. He looked up from it long enough to find a table and sit down, before resuming muttering about the poor quality of Xeno replacement parts. With a hand, he signalled a barmaid for a drink as he continued typing. Much more of this, and I'll just start shooting maintenance crew that don't do their jobs! Honestly, putting the thruster on a turret mount?! My fighter could've blown itself up!

---

Current Stories
Linus' Lackadaisical Logs(upd.3-1-10)
Archived Logs
In the Queen's Service(upd.4-21-10) | The Finer Things in Life (upd.4-8-10)
Silvy's Story(upd.2-29-08) | Conrad's Flight & Fight(upd.1-14-08)

[Othman]

Miroslav swilled the remaining ration of his beer with angst and strangely-mixed feelings of anticipation and duress, as he took an abiding gander at Ares; courtly trying to comply with forming prolific opinions of the data amassed so far, and yet to be done, before sprouting his soliloquy.

I seem to be fated to say or do something right now;

When I try to think of matters that are a year old or more, I seldom find my remembrance as vivid as I could wish it to be. Take Cadizs bombing, for instance, which is not in my extenuation though. Prying and listening are the natural occupations of people situated as we are, so I need your inquiry as much as possible in order to make sure that the infamous suspicion resting on me might be demisted soon.

I am convinced of my crews honesty and intelligence; but it is firmly persuading than ever that the circumstances, in this case have fatally misled me. What we were accosted by during the retaliation from Leon was something not only defying explanation but even beyond conjecture; delectation for a bunch of beguilers, the worst torment for me.

And it is without doubt that the current asymmetrical level, we are occupied with, is obviously compelling us to scrutinize over the plans, as I will be trying my best for the proliferation of this very case.

Ares finished his beer, glanced over some pages and resumed listening.

Even the Junkers to die for metal will covet our hand after Cretes fall. What about the compendium then? Do you have anything in mind for the incoming stage of turmoil?

Miroslav read lamenting as Ares intercepted to forbid the dispute going on, and respond.

---

On the uncharted lagoons of anguish, I sail with a canoe made of my sins.