Military dropships were not designed for comfort, and this one is no exception. Named the Artful Dodger , it is designed to carry 12 Mech’s and their crew, technicians and support staff. Most of the room given to the safety and well-being of the 3 story metal monsters in the hold.
People are replaceable, Mech’s not so much.
Aidan’s eyes narrow at the brightness of the lights inside the dropship. Despite the coiled dragon emblazoned on the outside of Union class dropship, all the signage within the behemoth is in Mandarin, not Japanese. With English subtitles, none of the other Aces seem to notice the disparity. Aidan locks this bit of trivia away. He will retrieve it later when he has a moment to ponder.
At the end of the ramp, the group follows the signage to the pilot’s quarters. The spaciousness of the ramp now constricts to a single file hall. The Mechwarriors grumble into a line, and push into the bowels of the ship. Just before Bjorn enters the door to the quarters, he is intercepted by a shapely figure in a black flight suit.
“Mechwarriors Jorgenssen and Fujita, your quarters are elsewhere. Please follow me.” Not waiting for a response, the woman turns sharply and continues down the hall. Trudy follows gratefully, not really wanting to bunk with the likes of Chester and Darius. Bjorn looks back, nods, and falls into line behind the both of them.
“Lucky bastard” Darius growls through a sloppy smile.
“Isn’t that the gods honest truth” Ezekiel agrees wistfully.
When he read the words “Pilot’s Quarters”, Pierre imagined comfortable cots, clean sheets, and a small nightstand with a lamp. What he saw were steel bunk beds, bolted to the bulkheads, sporting sagging springs. Pierre watches with amusement as Ezekiel swings his duffel onto the top bunk nearest the door. Let ze games begin.
“This one’s mine” the Aussie claims brightly.
“Put your shrimp on a different barbie, Mate”, Darius drawls. “Chester called that one already.”
“I heard no such thing, bitzer” Ezekiel replies.
“What did you just call me? A bitcher? Really?!” Darius drops his rucksack to the floor with an overly dramatic motion. Cracking his knuckles one-handed, he gets as close to Ezekiel’s face as his belly will allow. “You ought to reconsider.”