Out of the frying pan and into the fire (Talanator!)

[Anonymous]

Devi fidgeted with the zipper on her modified uniform, still showing off the scar on her shoulder. She wasn't fond of the scar or anything, but she liked how this uniform fit better, she had tailored it a bit to make sure it kept its shape when she had to cut the shoulders out. But she wasn't sure what her new mentor was going to think of it.

She was rather early, being to nervous to really relax. Thoughts of her first meeting with Dyerlich ran through her head. He had scared the crap out of her, then talked calmly with her afterward. Devi was pretty sure he hadn't been normal Pilot, so she had no idea at all what to expect from her new mentor.

Only that his name was Pilot Cross Letendre. That was all she knew. And that he was a Noble. Which was high ranking. Was that a good sign that she had two high ranked mentors? Did it mean anything?

The fidgety candidate started to pace, chewing on her lip, missing her lip rings. They had been fun to fiddle with when stressed out. And Devi was really nervous. She did not want to fail or fuck up or ruin things with this mentor.

[Tally]

Some nights Cross would catch himself staring up into the sky at the bright beacon that was Edanith and wish for another war.  A real war, not this frigid stalemate they found themselves languishing in now.  The last generation of Pilots—Roman and  Marshal, Alesku, Bart—they'd made names for themselves and written their reputations in Edani blood.  What did Cross's generation have?  Slogging through the public image shenanigans their propaganda department threw their way and putting down the occasional refugee out in the wastes who had balls and the brains enough to haul himself out of the muck and become a nuisance.

It wasn't any life for a Pilot.  It wasn't any kind of satisfaction.

This was where Cross found his respite from that itching restlessness, here in the ATC.  He'd found that he actually liked teaching, and if he were honest he thought he were pretty damn good at it.  Not overly emotional with the kids one way or the other, neither sadistic nor soft.  Just steady.  Forging new Pilots with a methodical hand.  He could see why Rosales spent so much time at this.

Devi.  His newest.  He was going to meet her now, winding his way through the ATC, officers and enlisted alike stepping aside and standing at attention until he passed.  His mind cast out ahead of him and found Devi, a bundle of nervous energy and wandering thoughts, among them memories of Dyerlich and speculation about Cross himself.  But she was early and he liked that.

"Candidate Kilham," he said, entering the room.  But he stopped short just inside the door.  "What happened to your uniform?"

He could have safely guessed the answer, given her former mentor's habit of absurdity.  Well there would be no more of that, not with him.  And especially not with a candidate like Devi.  His hopes for her future ran high.  He'd only read her personality profile, but from that alone he'd gotten the impression of potential.  She seemed the type capable of coming through the program with her head still on straight, with enough resiliency left to propel her upward through the Pilot ranks.

But for now they'd start with that uniform.

[Anonymous]

Devi was wrapped up in her thoughts enough that she didn't sense Cross's presence until the split second before he opened the door. The girl jumped slightly, back straightening, eyes going wide. At least this time the lights didn't go off and have some monster out of a storybook come tearing the room apart and almost making her piss herself this time.

Just a normal looking if somewhat attractive man. Though Devi had spent enough time here to know that looking normal meant nothing. The mention of her uniform got a slight blush from her, that clashed a bit with the bubblegum pink hair of hers, "Ah, yes. Um, my last mentor told me that I had to always show of the scar." Her hand came up, touching the name that had been carved into her skin, "And, well, because of where it was placed I had to mess around a bit with the shape of the uniform." She was babbling now, nervous and unable to shut off the flow of words, "And if I just cut a hole, it would have lost all its shape and that wouldn't have looked very military. And well, I just thought it would look more like a uniform if the sides matched and I didn't know if I still had to show the scar or....not....sir..."

The blushing was worse now and Devi kicked herself mentally. She was sounding like a moron, but she really didn't want to get off to a bad start with her new mentor. TRIM really didn't seem something she wanted to experience. And she hadn't cleaned her life up just to end up in that hell hole.