SHUTTLE COCKPIT

Give them hell at Rouen, Li Li!

As I sit in the passenger seat resting my head on the padded headrest, all I can think about are my conversations with Victoria. To hear her shout those words of encouragement gives me a heartfelt excitement in my chest, a sensation that I perceive as alien. Perhaps it is because of my bonding with Victoria that makes me feel… happy.

“Li Li…” I muse quietly while stroking my flushed cheeks. Even just repeating it is rather embarrassing, “what a peculiar nickname—from a peculiar person.” I wish that for just a minute longer I could hear her voice. She seems so young—younger than even me, and I can only wonder why an upstart girl like her would be serving time in the military. Was she forced into it? Or maybe she volunteered? There are so many questions I have. So many things I want to know about Victoria—and many more topics I want to talk to her about, myself included.

But, it was not meant to be. Perhaps it was never meant to be. Am I a fool to think we could meet ever again? I deflate with a sigh and rest my hand on my scarred cheek, stroking it and stroking my burning chest with my other hand. There will be a day when our paths will cross again. I am sure of it. I imagine Victoria will receive commendation for her actions against me, and there will be a day when the Federation will launch another campaign against the Mafia—and I have no doubt she will be at the helm.

But that is a thought for another day. That is just assuming I can endure the Federation onslaught at the Rouen corridor.

I can’t help but scoff. To think that a Federation commander acted autonomously. I tilt my head trying to remember what it was that Victoria remarked it was about —for fame and glory.

Fame and glory…

I can only feel sorry for the servicemen who were unfortunate enough to pay the price of their superior’s stupidity: the value of nothing. Though, I suppose one could argue it did distract me from the real threat at hand—the larger armada anchored at the Rouen corridor. Plus a few of my good men lost here and there, but peering at my massed ships departing ahead of the Castelforte, I find it unlikely that I have suffered too many losses.

And to think on the Federation side, Victoria could’ve been one of those casualties had the course of events gone differently. It’s a bleak world we live in that the Federation resorts to employing young people in their navy—though, and I can’t but scoff—I grew up in no better situation being raised by petty bandits and all.

“Madame, the shuttle has hailed the Castelforte and it will be a few moments before we are on the runaway lights,” the black-haired pony-tailed pilot says. He inputs a few buttons into his console and flips some switches overhead before leaning back into his chair with a stark sigh. With his right hand still on the joystick, he rests against his cockpit window with his left arm—a metallic prosthetic up to his elbow—keeping him propped up straight in his seat. “It shouldn’t be long… I can set it to autopilot once we synchronize with the projected lane.”

“I see… thank you… Julius, was it?” Julius cranes his neck and looks at me in surprise.

“…I’m surprised you remembered my name. I feel a little flattered, really,” Julius remarks as he briefly scratches his neck with his right hand “I’m impressed you even know my hand at all. Y’know, just being the little guy doing his deeds here and there.”

“I hate to admit it, but it can be rather difficult keeping track of all my crews” I reply rather apologetically. Julius only chuckles.

“If I were in your shoes, I wouldn’t be able to even keep track of my right and left shoes!” Julius remarks a bit too energetically for what it’s worth.

“Julius… this might sound a bit sudden, but during your dock at the Federation ship… they did not cause you any trouble, I hope?” Originally it was not my idea to have a chaperon tag along. I have some experience handling piloting shuttle crafts but there were concerns from the bridge, namely from that oversized brute—come to think of it I believe his name is Brutus—that I might cause an accident if I pilot the shuttle myself.

Thus, they picked out Julius to accompany me to the Yilan. If memory serves me right Julius is reputable for being a courier between ships, or so Brutus says, particularly during the skirmish with the Federation Ides formation and the later fray at Baltit.

Julius flaps his mechanic hand at me “no—no way! When I peeked out of the shuttle after you left,” Julius peers at me with his robotic hand cupping his brow “and saw a few intimidating armored lads with heavy guns loiter around their side of the boarding bridge,” Julius brandishes an invisible gun at me for a second before repositioning his left hand on the joystick “—I crapped my pants and sealed the door shut!” He finishes with a nervous laugh.

“I’m sorry… that must have been unnerving to go through.”

Julius shifts his mechanical hand on the joystick, and gently slaps me on the shoulder, “oh, don’t worry about little ol’ me! I staved off fear with some coffee beans and crackers—by the way, would you like some, Madame?”

Julius gets up and jolts back to rummage for something. I have to say; the nerve of this man to act so chummily given who he is dealing with. But I don’t pay it any mind. If Julius had done this to Che or even the Don, I have no doubt he would make a speedy disappearance.

Julius returns with a moderately sized white tin box sporting festive designs. He places the box in my lap and returns to his seat as the pilot. “They might be a little crunchy—” he looks at me and flashes a tired grin “maybe a bit too crumbly I wager.” I open the lid to at least 3 layers of white paper with circular and square-shaped crackers, some bright yellow while others are a darker shade of tan.

“You said there was coffee…?” I ask while carefully picking up a crispy-looking cracker and nimble on it; indeed, it is quite crumbly. Julius slaps his head with his prosthetic hand.

“oh my! How could I forget!” He looks at me agonizingly “I think I still have a good pot left… I’m sorry, but do you think you can pour one for yourself?” He scratches his brow with his thin robotic fingers—which I’d say is more of a rub given his smooth ‘fingers’.

“It can’t be helped…” I reply with a sigh. I hold the cracker with my mouth and set the box down. As I get up from the seat and make my way out of the cockpit an embarrassing growl originates from my stomach, and it occurs to me I haven’t eaten in ages—even before our initial departure from Velksland. Thankfully, Julius didn’t seem to take mind of the grumble—if he heard it at all.

“Ah… before I forget,” I stop partway into the cockpit door “would you like if I made you a cup of coffee as well? Would you like some cream powder in it?” Julius leans over his chair and looks at me rather puzzled—even a sense of exhaustion. I must have not noticed it until now, or perhaps it just isn’t as apparent, but he does have bags under his eyes.

“Coffee…huh…” Julius remarks laconically. He looks up at me with a soft smile, “…y’know, I think I could go for one—maybe a few spoonfuls of cream will do. Thanks.”

And with that, I head into the nearby compartment to prepare some coffee.

I return a few minutes later.

“Julius, I have our—” I pause upon entering the cramped cockpit. Something is off right away: our pathing is misaligned from the Castelforte’s trajectory lane.

Julius seems to be slumped in his chair. When I inch closer and quietly call out to him, the young man springs back to life, and the shuttle jerks a little bit as he regains his bearing on the controls. He looks up at me with widened eyes but relaxes into a grin. “Oh! Forgive me,” he rummages his mechanical hand through his hair “I kinda dozed off for a bit while thinking about that coffee. Give me a minute here to set this thing on autopilot…”

Julius flicks some more buttons overhead and turns a dial that was adjacent to him. Then he leans back into his chair with a tired exasperation and takes his creamy coffee from me.

“Thanks, Ma’am!” Julius exclaims cheerfully. To my horror, he chugs it in one continuous gulp then crumbles the paper cup with his machine hand. “I really needed that pick-me-up.” When he looks up at me with a wincing grin, he can’t help but flash that sheepish grin. “I think I’m fine now, you don’t need to worry about little ol’ me—as I said, I’m just the little guy doing his job,” the grin turns into a mild frown “though I gotta say… it’s a good thing you came back in time because the shuttle would’ve probably crashed into the side of the Castelforte —wouldn’t want to stain the side of the beaut, huh?”

I slump into my chair with a defeated sigh. I think the Mafia has one too many loose screws it. If I didn’t know any better I would figure I attract them like moths to the flames.

“But with that said…” Julius stretches and then reclines in his seat. “These last few hours have been kinda rough… I don’t think I even got any real shuteye until you did your business in the Yilan. So taking a power nap and abusing stimulants is just about all I could to keep me awake.”

“You didn’t… get a break when we were at Brunsbüttel?” I ask apologetically “or before the fight with the Ides Metropol Federation?”

Julius remains quiet. He faces the other way out the cockpit window. “I did… but limited breaks can only do so much, since, y’know, those jumps take a toll on me,” he rolls his head to face me; his baggy eyes become much more apparent “they take a toll on everyone.

“But don’t worry! I think I am doing better now… just a little groggy from taking a nap is all. I’ll be good as new later,” the red-gold bandanna-wearing pilot jabs his chest with his fake thumb “so don’t go worrying about me—the little guy! You just do what you have to do, Madame. The lads and I might moan and groan about our situation, but we do what we have to do since we know you can get us out of it.”

I take a few sips from my bitter coffee while nodding. For some reason, it tastes a lot more bitter than it has reason to. I have to lessen my grip so as not to squeeze the cup too hard. “Julius… do you think I am capable of stopping the Metropol advance at Rouen?” I ask somberly. I can’t bring myself to look him in the eyes; instead, my gaze lies at his feet. I didn’t notice it until now, but he seems to have a prosthetic right leg just barely noticeable from his leggings. “Sorry…” I quickly rectify “that question was probably a little…”

“If you can’t do it, then who can?” Julius asks dryly “there is no one capable of the task other than you, right? Or Captain Simon, even…” Julius cracks a smile and leans over to wrap an arm around me. If I didn’t know any better, this man is asking for a death wish. “If you and the captain teamed up like old times sake, I’m sure the two of you could accomplish anything! Maybe even ransack ol’ Terra!” He says with a hearty laugh.

“But you know…” Julius releases his innocuous arm over me and shifts his posture to rest against his cockpit window. A few moments of silence pass by without Julius adding any more. He merely stares out the window as our shuttle carefully slides into the interior of the Castelforte’s shuttle bay, one hand resting on his chin.

“…Julius?” I ask softly, and the pilot turns his head to grin weakly.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound cool there. It sounded kinda cool in my head, anyway—but maybe I’ll tell you when this all spills over. I would hate to be responsible for weighing you down with more petty things.” Julius gets up for a quick stretch, and looks out the frontal cockpit window “—it seems like all the other bosses are here, though. At least I recognize Kaiser’s, old Serge’s, and I’m not too sure about the other two…” Julius trails off peering at the lineup of shuttles in the bay.

I drink down the rest of the now lukewarm strong coffee and dispose of the cup in a trash compartment.“…I suppose they are waiting on me, no doubt about my plans for Brunsbüttel and our plans at Velksland, well then, until we meet again, Julius.” The young man nods with a grunt as I head out.

“Oi, Madame!” Julius suddenly calls out to me as I initiate the button to activate the shuttle’s door and subsequent roll-out of the escalator. I look back to see the man leaning against the open cockpit door.

“What is it, Julius?” I ask. From where he stands, the black-haired, easygoing Julius gives me a thumbs up.

“When this is all over… if we survive and make it through this slaughter—I don’t suppose I could treat you to something a little more proper—a glass of champagne or something, maybe?” Julius asks confidently, not breaking a sweat. With a dismissive chuckle, I turn away so that he doesn’t see my blemishing face. Isn’t he a little too bold for his sake? If Olga were to overhear this…

“What an odd question to ask, Julius—” I turn back to face the anticipating Julius, “So long as I have everyone’s support and faith, I will get all my men home safe and sound—that’s a promise. Just believe in me as you and everyone else has. And Frankish wine?—I hold high expectations for it, Julius.”

“A promise is a promise,” Julius says back with a robotic jab at his puffed-out chest “you can count on little ol’ me to get the fine lass the finest champagne in all of Toscana!”

And with that, I exchange salutes with Julius and proceed to head down the escalator.