Lodestone TLR-99

Where she no longer belongs

It had only been a few months since she'd left here, but she found the research base stifling now. Every corridor was walled in radar-confusing metals whose names she had never learned, painted a shade of light grey that sucked the color out of everything else nearby. Her uniform itched and chafed in a way it never had while she was still on a military payroll; now, of course, she was wearing it as a disguise, rather than as her proof of rank. Despite operating off of her years of training, years of protocol and propriety, she knew if any of her old comrades looked too closely at her, they'd sound an alarm at moment's notice. Second Lieutenant Katherine Niemeyer was gone, to them. Even if they knew she wasn't dead, they wouldn't just let her back in so easily, as if the last half-year hadn't happened.

Here, though, was where her memories ended. This elevator was always the last thing she saw of her "remote co-pilot," before each mission formally began. They'd had something of a ritual about it, in the old days. An hour before scheduled launch, she'd meet Mehr here, in front of the elevator, and share a good, long hug. Maybe a head-pat. Occasionally a kiss if nobody was watching, though Mehr was often too self-conscious to let that last long outside of their quarters. After which Kath would turn around and head for the mech bay, and Mehr would vanish into the lift, and head down to... wherever it was they kept her equipment.

Despite technically outranking Mehr, Kath was never given clearance to go down there with her. Her badge never worked. Hence, why she stole somebody else's, today. She swiped her ill-gotten identification - it read ZELENKO, which was a name with which Kath was only vaguely familiar - and stepped into the elevator cabin. The buttons ranged from "GF" to "9B," none of them labeled, and the directory on the adjoining wall was not of much help. Main corridor. Data ops. Restricted. Restricted. Restricted. Officers' canteen. Restricted. Restricted. She figured she might as well start at the bottom and work her way up - if this was going to work, she'd have precious few chances at it before getting locked in.

Past the eighth basement, though, the lift seemed to speed up. She held tightly to one of the rails as her body failed to adjust to the intense sinking she felt. It seemed like it was going to be forever before it finally stopped. When it did, she almost fell to her knees on the floor outside the doors from the dizziness.

She brought herself back to her senses by slapping her cheeks. In front of her, at the end of a long and featureless corridor, was an expensive-looking pod, hundreds of thick cables running from every side. It hung wide open and showed her the familiar sight of her own mech's cockpit, with the exact same mechakinetic harness hanging around the seat. This was it. There wasn't any room for error now. As soon as she laid a finger on the objective, the entire base could be after her.

Kath thought hard about what she needed to take, out of the hundreds of possible targets to be found on the pod. There wasn't a single silver-bullet item to grab. It would have made things easy if, for example, all of the remote control logic was stored on a single board, that she could disconnect and stuff into her uniform jacket. But judging by all the cabling, it wouldn't be that easy. If anything, each individual function was probably being controlled by a whole computer on a floor above her. The remote signal encryption was probably handled at data ops, and carried across the barren fields by satellites that were, realistically, never going to be within her reach.

Another look through the cockpit, though, and she found something else instead. Just off to the side of the chair, opposite the throttle lever for the jump thrusters, was a pillow-like plush... thing. A llama? A unicorn? It was the same off-white as her uniform, and didn't bear any markings or even a face. But it seemed familiar enough. She wouldn't be able to conceal it in her uniform, but this wouldn't trigger the alarm. It was never supposed to be in there in the first place. She grabbed it and held it close. It's been here this long and it still has her scent. It's perfect. If there was any particular prize to be had from the most top-secret base of the Sunnr Armed Forces, this was the best bet. After all, she wasn't here to steal their secrets. She was doing this for the sake of morale. Mehr's morale. She hasn't been able to do her job for six months. That job was to keep me safe by any means necessary. She's been out of sorts over it and it hurts to see her that way.

Maybe, if I bring this back to her, she'll remember that I care about her as much as she does me.