A Troubled Soldier 01

[theriflespiral]

I: Delivery to Elysium
Elysium-the-city was far larger than Natalia had first assumed. Not that this was a problem for her-- a day or two among the rooftops, and she would know this place as well as anyone who lived here.

For now, though, she was momentarily relying on a map she kept carefully tucked away, and an address on a box with a memorized order form (and countersign, and counter-countersign, easily handwaved).

Being a delivery girl was hardly a novel cover, but it was precisely because such things were ubiquitous that it was easy to slip into the role as she came around the service entrance. Add perhaps a touch of bitter expression at the cold-- she didn't even have to try for that one-- and things would, hopefully, work just fine.


II: Blames Her Tools (Vault)
Natalia, after spending the better part of a day hitting targets from as extreme a range as the Vault could afford, was now overhauling her rifle, first cleaning the inside of the barrel with a cloth and a cleaning rod, and then disassembling it, screw by painstaking screw.

The casings were drying on a separate cloth nearby, with the scent of soap and water, waiting for an oven to finish getting up to the proper temperature.

It took up an entire gunsmith's bench, between the disassembly and the casings waiting for annealing and rolling and fitting and loading, but there was something to it. A peace, in an artisan's craft.

She looked at the tool rack above her and clicked her tongue.

She would have to go hunting for that particular tool.

Okay. Smooth hair. Stand properly. Act like you're supposed to be here.

Time to go among the other workbenches. Or workshops, if she had to.


III: Wildcard
Bug Natalia because she looks suspicious or because you need something.

Comments

[theriflespiral]

"Hmm," she nods, then starts drawing. "But casings, even our casings, are..."

Ah. That's. A lot of powder. "Big. So. While I'm wishing, I will not hold breath on that one. It's a lot to ask."

[purplexing]

"Ah. That would be a problem. Unless we can figure out an alternate way to supplement the power behind it." Donnie hums as he looks at Natalia's drawing. "Maybe a magical component?"

Ether stones could certainly provide something as simple as a power boost, and if it's built into a part that remains in consistent contact with the user, it would maintain a steady charge. He puts a few notations. Something he'd still be willing to play around with, a new puzzle to work out.

[theriflespiral]

"There's still the pressure and force. Even for back home, a purpose-build, and heavy little pig." Still, an anti-materiel rifle, if you can get away with it, is a much cheaper ask than a whole Armor with associated cannon and melee weaponry.

[purplexing]

Lots to consider, but Donnie knows better than to think anything is an instant solution. He doesn't trust anything that can be worked out too easily anyway. Real developments took time and plenty of testing before you got the results you wanted. There'd be drawbacks and consequences to consider, and Donnie's sure that if it were the Empire trying to throw something together, they'd skip ahead and go straight to print if they had the blueprints. The turtlekin still dreads the day he might come across anything that's employed the suggestions and ideas he'd unwittingly gave them before the Corsairs found him.

"Noted. It'll be a side-project. End of the year's busy and we're planning some big hits so I probably won't get to really sit and pick at this until well after. But I'll definitely try looking into it," he promises.

[theriflespiral]

"And, of course, even cheaper than that is [on-site procurement]. Added bonus, your enemy pays your materiel and ammunition bill." She gestures at the Feder again. "Of course, much harder to scale up."

"And so we come to my little joke again. All these weapons? Stole them."

[purplexing]

That makes Donnie smirk.

"It's only fair, right? The Empire's basically stealing people from other worlds as it is. Anything we take may as well be a delayed service charge."

He sighs. "Of course, it'd be better if that wasn't the case, but we do what we need to. I do love the irony of stealing from right under their noses though."

[theriflespiral]

"It is a lesson," she said, using rollers to compress the casings back to size while they were still hot. "The first of many that I will make them learn."

The casing, still hot, dropped into the tray she kept below, and the next casing fell into place. "Brass by brass, shell by shell, drop by drop. And maybe, I teach the wrong lessons. Maybe nothing changes.

"Maybe Natalia dies, and no one cares."

[purplexing]

That seems a bit harsh, and while Donnie can see the possible truth to it, he doesn't want to believe that their efforts turn out to be meaningless.

"No," he says, frowning as he looks at her.

"Cause and effect. Every action has its reaction, as you said. You may not see the results right away, maybe not even outright. That's the frustrating part of it, when it doesn't seem like what you do matters. But it does.

"...and if you die, then I'll just blame myself for not giving you a better weapon beforehand."

He smirks at the last, but there's truth in his words.

[theriflespiral]

When Donnie says something that cuts through the oldest Russian joke there is, her hand at the roller stops, because it hits her.

He believes it.

He really does think that his actions will matter, in the wider context.

And he wasn't much smarter than she was.

For a moment, she can almost feel something, and then she shivers, chilled to the bone, and keeps turning. She doesn't know how to deal with it, with him, deciding to wipe the blood from his knuckles and keep going. "... Perhaps."

Another casing rattles into the tray, cylindrical and even.

[purplexing]

Donnie's not good at reading people, not like his brothers. So he's not quite sure what to make of Natalia's reaction. Had he said something wrong? Did she think he was stupid?

The questions eat at him, but he forces himself to wait rather than look away even though it's tempting. Because he doesn't think he's wrong in this. Because he doesn't want to be wrong, because he needs to believe that what he's doing is good and useful and beneficial to others. It's not the healthiest way to operate, but that's how he's always been.

Natalia's eventual reply doesn't exactly set him at ease, but it's...something? He anxiously watches as she resumes her task.

"Um. Anyway. Did...you need anything else? I should get back to..." He thumbs back to his work area.

[theriflespiral]

"Ah-- right, uh, thank you. And... For what it is worth..." She pauses, unsure of how to frame her calculations in the cold light of strategy. "Morale is important. To know it will happen is important. Will to fight is what makes a technical charge a tank, and lack of it is what makes a tank drop smoke and run. I know these things. ... But it is another thing, to believe."

"Before you go-- what is your name?"

[purplexing]

That's...an interesting point he's never considered before. You could believe things without knowing, and he supposes the opposite is true until the knowledge is supplemented with solid fact. No, wait, that isn't...quite how belief works. Oh great, he's going to be thinking about this all day now.

The turtlekin shakes his head like that'd help scatter those thoughts before he went into full overthink mode.

"Oh, it's Donnie," he says. "And yours...?"

[theriflespiral]

"Natalia Koutolika. Russian, not that it matters here." ting, ting, ting, came the sound of the casings rattling into the tray, came the sound of brass caught in the rollers, slowly pressed into shape.

Donnie. Enjoys machinery and weaponry. Optimistic. Turtlekin. Skilled in sculpture and smithing. Can visualise and temporarily create tools. Lent me graphite powder while I overhauled the bolt-action. Donnie. "Donnie. I will remember it."

She says that with a strange amount of confidence.

[purplexing]

He smiles a little at that, giving her a nod. Whether it matters or not, he'll still try to remember it. It's fascinating learning about the other places that people come from, even if it's just a name.

"Okay Natalia. Well, if you ever need anything, let me know," the turtlekin says, turning with a wave before he heads back to his workspace.

[theriflespiral]

After a little while, when the rifle is re-assembled and she has cleaned out chamber, bore, barrel, and lubricated everything she could, and the cartridges are re-loaded, she places the can of graphite powder on Donnie's workbench. "Returning this."

And then waves, and walks off, back to the range.