Liberation Union Mobile Firebase Delta Foxtrot

[WickedCadrach]

The silent satisfaction that followed made Emily's eyes heavy. Despite the intervening shower, she and Magda both were only a couple hours removed from the skirmish at the Hive hab base, and the pilot's muscles were now demanding true rest. For a moment, she considered releasing the last of the tension in her limbs, slipping down to lie fully against the woman under her. She could stay a few minutes at least... right? The moment just felt so—

Magda's nose brushed Emily's and the dark-haired frame-jockey started, blinking as she felt the playful touch. A moment passed where her eyes moved between Magda's, looking first to the right then the left. Why had that surprised her so much? They had touched each other everywhere else with much much more intense contact. They'd kissed, something that not everyone Emily took to her bunk wanted to do do—not something she always wanted out of a lover, but something that had felt right in the moment. Still... that had been the heat of the moment. People said and did crazy stuff when their blood was moving, but things were cooling off now. Did she want another round? That didn't seem to be it. There was a heartbeat of pause where Emily thought she knew the answer, but silently the pilot shoved the thought away, playing dumb with herself as she shifted in place. Because in the stillness of the command office pod, just as Magda's nose had touched hers, Emily had felt a flutter in her chest that frightened her. 

Slipping on a crooked smirk, she pushed the feeling down. 

"Awww... Did I find the happy switch? My captain seems a little less cunt-y now," she said, her voice low and breathy despite the cavalier cadence. 

Withdrawing slowly, Emily pulled her hips away until she felt Magda's fingers slip free, and dropping a metal foot to the floor, she gave the other woman a last appreciative stare, her cool, mischievous expression softening as her gaze moved up from her captain's bare legs and chest and reached the shaved head lifting from the table to look her way. 

Without another word, Emily gathered her clothes, dressing promptly before firing off a sloppy salute at the door. 

"Captain."

[WritesNaughtyStories]

On 07/10/2025 at 17:49, WickedCadrach said:

"Awww... Did I find the happy switch? My captain seems a little less cunt-y now,"

Magda offered Emily a sheepish smile. "Maybe a bit more." She giggled, rubbing one hand over her cum-slicked thigh and the drying smear on her close-cropped scalp, "but in a good way."

She watched the younger woman make her way to the door, rocking her head to one side as she tried to shift gears back to Fire Base Commander mode. Then Emily saluted.

Magda tried to keep the sudden hurt from showing on her face, but couldn't. It felt like Emily was acknowledging an unsavory order, and the little yelp of hurt surprise escaped her lips before she could choke it off. The commander closed her eyes and took a long slow breath, trying to set aside her unreasonable reaction. Lt, Kehrer probably meant nothing by it. She'd given more of herself to become the pilot she was than anyone on the team. Maybe anyone in the Union.

Magda exhaled slowly, massaging her scalp as she tried, again, to shift her thoughts to their plan to rescue the Hive's sacrificial lambs. She pushed herself off the desk with a sigh and made her way to the small crate that acted as her wardrobe. She grabbed a new tank top, a pair of panties and a towel, all in colors so old and faded they looked gray.

Captain Payarkoon counted to 15 to give Emily time to avoid her and walked out of her door toward the showers. She dumped her kit on the metal bench and stepped into the chemical spray and sluiced off the evidence of her rendezvous, scrubbing herself with her bare hands,

//Shall I move us off to prepping for the attack?

[WritesNaughtyStories]

For the next hour Captain Payarkoon simply pushed the thing with the salute out of her mind. Her feelings had been hurt in the past - far worse, in fact - and her misery was not important enough to get clock cycles. There was, in fact, a war on and she was expected to fight it. When she crawled into the rack with an actual plan for how to take the Hive outpost she let herself be hurt and angry. Then she dissected it. Knowing it was just Emily being cheeky didn't help much, Knowing and feeling aren't the same thing, but it did let the Captain fall asleep.

In the morning Magda gathered the techs and the even more meager resources they could provide them. "I need Patune's mass driver fully functional and that new frame completely jail broken - Kehrer hates it, but for a day she's going to have to ride it. You have 48 hours. Get everything you can working as best you can. Questions?"

There were a few, mostly about priorities and what could be stolen from where to make things work. Magda did her best to answer them all clearly, wanting to leave as little to interpretation as possible. It's not that she doubted her people's interpretations, but much more that she doubted they'd have confidence in the interpretations and wouldn't do anything. Too often perfect judgement was seen as the ideal, when the initiative to do something, anything, was far more valuable.

Once the techs were off Captain Payarkoon went hunting to Lieutenant Keherer. When she found the scarred pilot, Magda shoved aside her lingering annoyance, "Come on, Patches. You, me and Scyllia have a date with a bunch of Hive locals who need rescuing from kaiju and Hive neglect." The captain pointed toward the door, "Go get your girl prepped, I'll be along as soon as I get the others briefed."

The Captain gave the pilot a minute to get on her way, then made a base wide announcement for an all-hands briefing in the carrier in 4 minutes. "Off the shitter and outta the showers, kids. Ya has important news to share."

She described only what the available pilots and carrier crew needed to know and the context of holding the outpost indefinitely. When to dust off, where to put down which BioFrame. Again, there were questions,this time she spelled out what she could, but added, "IF something comes up, and we can be almost certain something will, do something. A decision will be better than nothing. We can't work from nothing,we can't correct nothing, but once we do a thing, we can react tot it. Clear?"

Another few questions followed, but she was headed to the paddock, stripping her clothes off and jamming them into a waterproof bag as she approached Scyllia, "Hey pretty girl." She said, greeting the tiny frame, The captain continued, "Is your girl jacked in? Tell her I'm here?"

"Patches, can I sure my kit to Scyllia's leg?" She called.

[WickedCadrach]

The cold mountain air was exactly what Emily needed as she left Magda's office. Out of sight of her commanding officer, the pilot ignited the electric nic-stik and took a heady drag that set her artificial lungs audibly skirring. She stared off into empty sky, tracing the ragged claw marks of thin clouds as she used her outward cool to cudgel the restlessness in her chest back into submission. 

"Fuck," Emily whispered, exhaling chemical wisps that mingled with the mist of her hot breath. "Fuck. That's what it is. It's just a fuck. Just some fucking sparring to blow off steam. With—With your captain." The lieutenant's flesh-and-bone leg quirked in, dropping her hip and shoulder against the icy container wall of the nearest barrack pod. Her head followed and she let it lay there, putting her brain on ice a moment while she drew in another pull from the plastic and copper cigarette between her lips. She did all of this as a way of burying the thought that she'd almost said 'with Magda' and tossed why she felt the need to use the commanding officer's title instead of her name into that unmarked mental grave for good measure. 

For all the crap she gave her, Emily respected Magda. As a warrior. As a leader. As a woman who took care of her business. The only softness Emily had seen was the usual smirking comradery that successful officers doled out in moderation, enough to keep the troops on side but not so much as to lose the authority of command. And Emily had believed the softness Magda reserved for her had been of similar stuff—that or the maternal protectiveness that the lieutenant's 'broken doll' body seemed to engender in others before she shit-kicked the notion out of them. 

But that moment Magda's nose brushed hers wasn't either of those two familiar options. 

"Fuck..." The nic-stik's green LED flashed red as the chemical reservoir ran dry and Emily sucked burnt air and the taste of copper. Pulling the dull black and red stick from her lips, she grimaced down at it and wondered idly if her fingers were made from the same kind of wiring and rigid metal under the soft silicone 'flesh'. The thought lingered as she watched the blinking indicator on the nic-stik pulse, growing fainter and fainter before finally blinking out. 

Emily shivered. The exposed metal of her left leg was transferring the high altitude's cold up into her, but that wasn't why she trembled or why her breath caught. She tried to tell herself it was stupid to get sentimental about a fucking smoke, forcing herself to throw the discharged device off the rim of the slope as she turned for her bunk. Things got used up. Or they broke. You enjoy them while they're here, but it's idiotic to get attached when you know it's not forever. 

By the time Emily made it back to the pilot barrack, Diego was coming in from his shift on watch. She dragged him to the showers, pulling his hair and biting his shoulder and neck until he shoved her face-first against the wet tile. It wasn't enough to make Emily forget. But, for the night, it was enough to convince herself she didn't care. 

---

Cocooned inside the wet, roiling coils of Scylla's cockpit, Emily picked up the faint visual of Magda at her BioFrame's heel. She wasn't so deeply synced that she couldn't hear Magda with her own ears, but Scylla's impressive sensory organs and apparatus shot an echo of the call in crystal clarity to overlay Emily's natural senses. 

"There's some tow-hooks on the back of her calves and hips," Emily called back through the narrow opening through Scylla's abdomen that exited at the base of the BioFrame's spine. "Secure it wherever, just try to split it or ballast it. My girl's a dancer. Not a fucking tractor like Patune." Emily smirked, already imagining the look on Magda's face at the comment. 

Making a few final checks of the scant digital and analog controls in the cockpit, Emily stroked the dark tendril resting against her temple that was giving her a faint link to Scylla. "I know. I know. You like it better when it's just us. Me too. But Magda's cool. And I'm still driving, baby girl." 

The white-steel tentacles along Scylla's back swayed anxiously and the black, luminous eyes glanced down at Captain Payarkoon with an inscrutable and eerie stillness that might have been curiosity or warning on the BioFrame's alien and feral features.  

Emily decided to get ahead of any misunderstandings though and called out, "Don't worry. She's just nervous about someone riding shotgun. Climb up when you're set." A moment later, her own checks now finished, Emily added, "By the way, that new Frame we jacked. Does he have a callsign yet? I figure when it's time to make the switch, it might be a little late for introductions."

[WritesNaughtyStories]

2 hours ago, WickedCadrach said:

"Secure it wherever, just try to split it or ballast it. My girl's a dancer. Not a fucking tractor like Patune."

"Tractor?" Magda asked over a laugh, "My boy's a bulldozer more like." She offered, securing her bag to Scyllia's right hip. "It's just my clothes, but all I've got is one bag."

The captain felt Scyllia's eyes on her as moved toward the Bio frame's hatch. Magda turned an eye to Patune. The big brute was likely to be pissed, but it was hard to guess at who. Mercifully it looked like the techs we're working on his railgun so he was distracted.

"Hey Scyllia," she said stroking Scyllia's thigh, "I'm not here to steal your girl." She didn't add, 'but I'd sure like it if we could share'. Magda did tell the recon Frame, "Patune's probably going to be mad too."

Payarkoon slithered through the entrance with surprising grace and ease. Inside the tight nerve center, Magda felt massive. Having felt the presence of Patune's mind through her mother since before birth, Magda's instinct was to caress the dark tendrils that would connect Emily to Scyllia to let the BioFrame know she was here and to let her probe her mind  She fought that down. If Scyllia wanted her, she could find her through Patches.

The switch was natural. This was official duty, and Magda's affection for the young officer went to the same place fear and memories of the brave fighters she'd lost went. Now there was a mission.

The captain lay a gentle hand on the lieutenant's shoulder, "Where do you want me? Looks like kind of kneeling down in front and under you, or kind of laying on your back a little."

As she settled into position, Captain Payarkoon answered about the new Frame. "No. We've been stretched so thin that Patune and Granite have been keeping it company. I haven't had a chance to get in it at all so I don't even know if it feels like a girl or not."

Spoiler

For Hive frames gender tended to be a subjective call by the pilot because the emotion and hormone blockers, nerve gates and behavior limiters basically turned off most of their higher brain functions What was left was just autonomic functions to support the nerves that carried the pilots instructions to the muscles. As the barriers were lifted the rudimentary personalities hadn't developed the kind of identities Union frames had. The Hive frames like Granite almost always adopted what their pilot felt fit them. Magda had never thought that it was that Union pilots were so perceptive but that the frames were impressionable. If there was any way to do it, she give them three months to detox too.

"As soon as you're ready, Patches, let the carrier know I'm on board, and we're enroute."

//Whatever chit chat you want, a piloting roll to get us down the mountain and a stealth roll to sneak up the river, plus whatever drama the rolls reveal.

Edited November 12 by WritesNaughtyStories
clean up

[WickedCadrach]

On 11/11/2025 at 20:40, WritesNaughtyStories said:

The captain lay a gentle hand on the lieutenant's shoulder, "Where do you want me?"

The dim heartbeat-red of Scylla's cockpit lighting painted Magda's bare skin like primitive war-paint, making every crease in her tightly muscled body stand out in stark black lines, her eyes somehow softer and more intense from the glint that soft red gave them. The ease with which the natural-born BioFrame pilot navigated the soft roil of Scylla's black tendrils had drawn Emily's eye already, and there was just a flicker of a pause at the captain's question before Emily threw on a crooked smirk and replied, "I can think of a few places." 

Looking back over her shoulder, the LT locked eyes with Magda then shifted a gloved hand to indicate a dimple in the black coils—a space like the groove down the center of an enormous tongue behind Emily's back. In that silent exchange was both the cavalier and playful acknowledgement of what had already happened between them and the subtle promise that Emily would be packing those thoughts away for the mission as well. 

Unlike Magda, Emily was at least partially clothed, though her jacket and a fresh change were similarly secured in a cramped, water-tight cubby build into Scylla's thigh. A faded pair of boxers emblazoned with cartoon turtles hung crooked on Emily's hip, and as she helped Magda into position, she adjusted the strap of the black tank top draped unconvincingly over her chest. The cracked leather of the fingerless gloves on her hands creaked as she coaxed some of the thicker tendrils from the wall behind Magda and around the other woman's hips and shoulders. They idly coiled and swayed with the BioFrame's anxious and curious thoughts but mostly cooperated with Emily's efforts to set them in a good position to reach her around her passenger . 

With a small grunt of acknowledgement at Magda's comment about the new Frame, Emily tried to put it from her mind. It was a problem for later. The problem right now was the way Scylla's tentacles had started shivering in fits around Magda's extended arms and legs.

"You're bracing yourself. Try to relax," Emily suggested, watching as some of the black tentacled limbs began to steady, coiling up around Magda's ankles and under her armpits. "There's no 'throne' in here, no rigid seats, so let Scylla support you." Emily indicated the encompassing black coils and sea-anemone structures of tinier connections in the same glistening, wet flesh. "She'll move you around—for balance and to make sure I can reach the sync points I need if I end up going full-dive. Because of her sensor-array, there are a lot of ception-points, so don't get queasy if you catch some bleed."

When all was settled, Emily was kneeling, her palms gripping two tendrils that had snaked up her forearms to the elbow. Magda's was held in a sort of half-crouch over Emily's back, a thick tentacle between them as Scylla's main sync-line grazed Magda's shin and rode Emily's spine, leaving a glistening trail of neurofluid between the captain's breasts and in Emily's tank top from the contact. Hundreds of small, squirming cilia along the limb's trunk lit up the empathic link between pilot and BioFrame, and Emily felt the momentary vertigo of her senses broadening to take in the hangar and the now-tiny-looking LU mechanics at their final checks. 

<Showing green across the board, Patches. You and Scylla are clear for launch.> 

The message chirped in Emily's mind through Scylla's internal comms, echoed a millisecond later by the backup radio's dull speaker. 

"Roger that. Ya is onboard—and loving every second of it. Taking her out now." 

With a final breath and slow release, Emily shifted her hands where they nestled in the squelching roil of flesh, sending an almost ticklish coaxing through Scylla's nervous system. The next several minutes were a series of impressions between Emily's sweeps for patrols and errant kaiju along the mountainside. Icy air on steel skin. The roughness of tree bark and stone as Scylla's hands and feet worked with the tentacles to propel her with a cycling smoothness that kept the cockpit smoothly cradled in her torso, minimizing shock and giving an impression like gliding. 

// Pilot Roll 1 = (5, 4, 4, 2) + 1
// Stealth Roll 2 = (6, 5, 2, 2) + 2