Chronic Swanicles 1: It is a lovely day aboard the SS Vivian La Gay, and

[eatthepen]

Chronic Swanicles is a series of dialogue-only flash fictions I originally wrote on Cohost in response to a prompt from the Making Up Mech Pilots prompt account.

This first installment was for the prompt 'Mech pilot who swears that if you ever describe what they do as "antics" they're going to program a rapid gravity cycle for your room's unit next time you bring a guest.'

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It is a Lovely Day Aboard the SS Vivian La Gay, And...

"Corporal Swan."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Second Lieutenant Verres and Corporal du Tenti are in medical."

"I'm sorry to hear that, ma'am."

"The Second Lieutenant has a serious concussion and probable shoulder fracture."

"Ma'am."

"The Corporal is being evaluated for multiple possible fractures and torn neck ligaments."

"Ma'am."

"Do you have anything to say?"

"No, ma'am. I wish them a speedy recovery."

"This leaves my two best squads at three-quarters strength, likely for at least a month."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Swan if you can’t say something more than this I swear I will put you in the brig and disconnect the power to the whole unit with a thermal cutter."

"Ma'am?"

"The gravity cell under Verres' floor is proprietary technology, the fleet is subject to a fifty thousand dollar liability charge automatically if anyone so much as touches its housing, its operation is a commercial secret covered by legal agreements worth more than this ship and the training and background checks to qualify as an apprentice to the technicians who maintain them take the better part of a decade. It will cost us millions to determine whether the device was tampered with, millions that we have to spend because otherwise our foremost ace cannot use his quarters for the remainder of this deployment."

"Sounds troubling, ma'am."

"How did you do it, Swan?"

"Do what, ma'am?"

"Swan I will tolerate your antics only so far, and yes, I know that is the petty little detail you decided to decimate our fighting strength over."

"I don't know wha-"

"Corporal Swan, do not fuck with me. Those two are lucky to be alive. On mere suspicion, and simply for the cost that your action has already incurred, I could sell you to Ferrocorp and wash my hands of you. It is a tantalising prospect. I am asking how you did it so that I can evaluate whether your ability to do so is worth more to me than that would bring in."

"Ah."

"I want to be clear about something, Swan. The best outcome you can hope for now is that I transfer you to special ops as a technician-saboteur. Unfortunately it is a significant pay rise, so your wages will be held as surety against the costs of your shenanigans, but at least your skills will be better utilised. The alternatives are Ferrocorp or, if the grav cell technician can prove that it was you who tampered with the cell, death. Is that clear?"

"Yes, ma'am, I'd be honoured to serve."

"Your mother should have named you goose."