Mech Pilot who sighs as they realize that the Kobolds are probably going to be the best workshop to fix this.
Wildside took a deep, cynically charged breath through his air filter as he looked at the stat readout on Bluebird's central component from the last fight.
[Starbord wing damaged; flight ill-advised]
[All support units damaged; non-functional.]
While Bluebird thankfully had a walking mode, and enough horsepower to pull four drones on a makeshift sled, it was more the destination Wildside was dreading than the journey.
"PILOT APPREHENSION DOES NOT SEEM WARRANTED." the mech AI's deep voice projected from the cockpit console.
"OUTPOST 12 IS AMONG THE MOST PRESTIGIOUS IN THE ORGANIZATION._"
The pilot drummed his clawed gloves against the side of his seat. "Yeah, yeah, they can fix this stuff in about a day. The problem is they know it."
"STATEMENT UNCLEAR. PLEASE ELABORATE._"
Wildside took his helmet off for a brief moment and ran his fingers through his hair, gathering his thoughts. "Okay so, you know how we usually put on this 'certain victory and absolutely above the idea of losing a fight' thing we do with enemies that can think?"
"YES._"
"So like... Envision being on the other side of that, and its from an ally that would rather do anything else."
"...APPREHENSION UNDERSTOOD._"
It was about an hour before they arrived. All manner of small, one-person towing vehicles emerged to take the sled inside as Bluebird marched into the hangar and sat down at a standby catwalk to let its pilot out. They were met by several Quaketail kobolds in different adornments, a mixture of lab coats and work uniforms as they looked over the damage. The foreman of the outpost stepped into view, a stark contrast to the others as he seemed like a chrome metal statue come to life, with only his eyes having indication he was a living being.
"Agent Wildside. If I didn't know better, one would think you hapless behind the controls with how often I see you. What is the issue now? Is the guidance AI too much?"
Wildside exhaled sharply. "Enemy mech flanked by a flyer we didn't expect. Took out the flyer, but the mech escaped while we were distracted."
"Hm. Makes sense. As does your... Antiquated recovery solution, given the structural damage. Well, put up your feet and rest for a while. We can tend to your machines from here, as usual."
God he fucking hated that tone. That 'We couldve solved this better and got here faster' tone. Not everyone had hundreds of years to spend refining their crafts. Wildside grit his teeth behind the mask and nodded. "Thank you, chief." was all he could risk letting out of his mouth. The foreman nodded in approval and motioned to the waiting room as Wildside fished the charger for his phone out of Bluebird's cockpit.
It was going to be a while.
