Specialist Rynerson was not, technically, in charge of collecting munitions procurement requests, but with all the defections recently even the armor pool was stretched thin. His predecessor gave him a few tips to make sure everything went smoothly:
- Respect the tonnage limit.
- No theatre-scale weapons unless Corporate signs off on a Blackspear Decree.
- At least three reloads for every weapon.
- One melee weapon per Solutions Appliance, no exceptions.
- Give Delphi whatever she wants, and send the requisition logs to Strategic Finance Command immediately.
He only knew Kara "Delphi" Strauss by reputation. She was a recon specialist, and was never incapacitated in the field - that much was in her file. This information did not prepare him for the shrine.
Her mech was in the hangar, cockpit detached and hanging a meter off the ground. The canopy was removed, and a collage of monitors flickered between countless feeds in front of it. Surrounding the cockpit and the attendant screens were stacks of manila and redwell folders. Hazy grey smoke emerged from the deep-set cockpit, and as he approached and breathed in he realized it was both minty and severely caffeinated. At least he'd be alert.
Delphi herself was lounging in the cockpit, somehow both languid and possessed of obsessive focus. Throwing a switch upon seeing Rynerson, her seat extended out of the cockpit as the monitors folded into a neat stack to her right.
She stared at Rynerson, eyes bloodshot. It was an open question when she had last seen sleep. "Has Nellis briefed you?"
Rynerson nodded. Nellis, his predecessor, was careful to warn him. "Yep. What you want, you get. That's the deal."
Relief crossed Delphi's face, though she did not blink. She threw another switch, and her chair extended completely out of the detached cockpit, swaying on steel supports and cabling as it made its way to one of the stacks of folders surrounding her machine.
"Storm's coming in. The shopping lift is extensive."
Rynerson tried to laugh it off. "Hey, my instructions were clear - doesn't matter if you want ACS-20s or scotch and soda. You'll get it."
The pilot pulled a single manila folder out of the stack and handed it to Rynerson, then threw a switch below her seat to pull it back into the haze of the cockpit. As the specialist opened up the folder, Delphi breathed deeply of the stimulant-smoke and pulled the maze of monitors back in front of her.
UMS SOLUTIONS APPLIANCE ARMAMENT TENDER
PILOT:
- Kara Strauss
ASSIGNED SOLUTIONS APPLIANCE:
- FN-70 scout refit, Veleda
MATERIEL REQUESTS:
- 10 ACS-50 Rockets
- 4 Enkidu-class Inter-orbital Cruise Missiles
- 2,000 30x173mm DU autocannon rounds
- 1 Meti-class personal defense blade
APPLIANCE REFIT REQUESTS
- Fittings for shoulder-joint mounts for ACS-50 and Enkidu IOCMs
- Fittings for dual autocannons
- Targeting systems for above
- Hazardous environment armor, Freeman class
- Pursuant to above, alter existing scout refit to Þorbjörg linebreaker refit
END OF TENDER
Rynerson stared at the document in a mix of wonder and horror. This kind of armament wasn't for a scouting mission. This was more than enough to level an entire metropolis - a single Enkidu needed a Blackspear Decree. Instead of arguing the point with Delphi, he just took a few steps back from her shrine and sent scans of the tender to his CO, Procurement, and Strategic Finance Command.
It was the latter group that responded first, cc'ing everyone else he sent the tender to -
ORDERS APPROVED. BLACKSPEAR AUTHORIZED.
His CO sent a direct message shortly afterwards -
Relax. It's officially no longer your problem. Get some sleep, get some grub, and don't tell anyone what you saw.
That much was a relief. He was tight-lipped and professional by nature, but curiosity demanded he seek an explanation.
He approached the shrine with something approaching reverence, waving the folder to catch Delphi's attention. She threw a couple of switches and suddenly was just above eye level.
"You said you were briefed."
Rynerson fought the urge to bow. Oracle or Section-8, the hangar was as much his domain as it was the pilots. "I was. Your orders were just approved per SFC. I was hoping you'd satisfy my personal curiosity - after all, some of your groceries are in deep freeze for good reason."
Her expression softened, looking a trace more smug. "Corporate learned long ago not to question me, but though they obey they do not understand. Do you seek understanding?"
"I'd like to understand how you can wave your pen around and pull Blackspears out of your hat."
Delphi flicked a series of switches on her armrest, bringing her chair just outside the cockpit, with the monitors arranged in a rough square to her left. "Karmic Economics is no party trick, Specialist. It is how the future is told."
Withdrawing a small baton from nowhere, she pointed at one of the monitors. "See here - Grineer Labs hired twenty-three pilots from L'Audace Contractors this month. Directly, in full-time positions, buying out their contracts completely. And here, see..."
She pointed to a different monitor. "Glacis Futures have been investing heavily in Grineer. They don't make bets, they like a sure thing. And here, you can see that Grineer also bought out Fossetech three years ago, who were making waves in helical railgun munitions. But this is the smoking gun - look!"
Every monitor changed to display a single report, repeating a dozen times. "The Federal Territories have achieved unparalleled success in pushing Grineer out of South America. They aren't just desperate, they're scrambling for a solution before they get pushed off-planet entirely. It all amounts to one inescapable conclusion: Grineer Labs is about to start a massive push to secure Federal lithium, casualties be damned - and those who make it their business to know are betting on their success in doing just that. And I'm supposed to go and 'recon' a Grineer FOB in the Andes."
Rynerson stared at the monitors, agog. "It's a suicide mission. They'll blow a scout right out of the sky. Hell, they'll blow a full battalion to bits if they have the kind of firepower I think they do."
Delphi lounged back in her cockpit, taking an extravagant pull from a pipe within the metal shrine. "It was a suicide mission. I have seen the signs. I intend to survive."
