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How did we end up here?
- Chapter 5 -[]
The nondescript office building loomed ahead as I adjusted the collar of my slightly worn suit. This job interview with the mercenary company was my shot at stability, a chance to escape the quagmire of uncertainties that had become my life. The sign read "Steel Phoenix Mercenaries," and I took a deep breath before entering.
As I stepped into the reception area, a stern-looking receptionist greeted me. "You're here for the job interview, I presume?" she asked, eyeing me with a hint of judgment. I nodded nervously, wondering if my makeshift attire and lack of military precision would mark me as an outsider.
Moments later, I found myself in a dimly lit conference room facing a seasoned recruiter who radiated a no-nonsense attitude. He studied my resume with a critical eye, and the air in the room became charged with tension. My palms began to sweat, and I silently cursed Stefan for not leaving me more practical memories to navigate through this interview.
The recruiter, a grizzled man with a nameplate that read Captain Henderson, leaned back and shot me a skeptical glance. "Alexia Jenkins, is it?" he remarked, his tone laced with skepticism. "Sandhurst Academy, dropped out before completing your training. Care to explain why?"
My mind raced, attempting to navigate through memories that weren't entirely mine. I stammered, "Well, you see, Captain, there were circumstances... uh, complications during my time at Sandhurst."
He raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. "Complications? We're not fans of complications here, Jenkins. Details, or should I save us both some time and end this interview?"
I tried to summon a coherent response, struggling to meld Stefan's vague recollections with the scant memories I possessed as Alexia. "I, um, had some issues adapting to the military lifestyle. It's not that I couldn't handle the training; it's just... I guess I wasn't fully prepared for the intensity of it all."
Captain Henderson's gaze intensified, his eyes probing for more. "Not fully prepared? We deal with intense situations daily, Jenkins. You're telling me you couldn't handle it?"
My mind fumbled through memories that felt like borrowed tales. "Well, you see, it's like this... during a training exercise with a Warhammer, I, uh, may have miscalculated a maneuver, and things... didn't end well for the Mech."
The recruiter's expression soured. "Miscalculated? You wreaked a Warhammer? That's a million C-Bills worth of equipment. What happened?"
The pressure of the interview intensified, and I stumbled over my words. "It was just a simulation, but the simulation pod malfunctioned, and the Warhammer suffered severe damage. Not entirely my fault, you know. Technical glitch and all."
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Warhammer Heavy 'Mech
Captain Henderson sighed, unimpressed. "A technical glitch wrecking a Warhammer. That's quite the excuse. We can't afford such 'glitches' in real combat situations. What makes you think you're cut out for mercenary life if you couldn't handle simulated training?"
I felt the weight of desperation settling in, the need for this job pushing me to salvage the interview. "I'm adaptable, Captain. I may not have excelled at Sandhurst, but I've learned from my experiences. I'm determined to prove myself in the field, given the chance."
The recruiter leaned forward, his skepticism undeterred. "We need soldiers, not trainees with a record of damaging valuable assets. What guarantees do I have that you won't bring chaos to our operations?"
My attempts to find a convincing response faltered, and my nerves betrayed me. "I... I can assure you, Captain, I'm committed to learning and improving. I'm not the same person who struggled at Sandhurst. I've grown, and I'm ready for the challenges that come with being part of Steel Phoenix."
A disappointed shake of Captain Henderson's head followed, and he uttered words I dreaded. "Jenkins, you're not what we're looking for. We can't afford to take risks with someone who lacks the necessary experience and discipline. I suggest you look elsewhere for employment."
The rejection hit hard, a harsh reminder of my precarious situation. I stuttered, "But, Captain, I really need this job. I'll do whatever it takes to prove myself. Please, give me a chance."
His response was blunt and final. "We don't have the luxury of second chances, Jenkins. Good luck in your search for employment."
As I left the interview room, a sense of defeat hung heavy in the air. The receptionist barely glanced up as I walked out, her disinterest echoing the disappointment that now consumed me. The city streets felt colder, harsher, as if mocking my futile attempt to secure a stable future.
In the solitude of my apartment, I grumbled at the cruel reality of unemployment, the weight of failed interviews, and the specter of financial instability. The neuro helmet lay dormant, a reminder that even in the realm of SLDF tech, I couldn't escape the struggles of my own existence.
The job search continued, each rejection intensifying the desperation within me. "Come on, Alexia," I muttered to myself, "you've faced worse odds. There has to be someone out there willing to give you a chance."
Yet, as the days passed and the responses remained elusive, the discouragement deepened. The remnants of Stefan's strategic wisdom provided little solace in a world that demanded practical skills and experience. The once-promising neuro helmet repairs now felt like a feeble refuge in the storm of uncertainty.
A renewed determination sparked within me. "I can't afford to give up," I mumbled, trying to convince myself. "There has to be another opportunity, another door waiting to be opened."
And so, with the weight of rejection pressing down on me, I ventured back into the job market, armed with a mix of Stefan's tactical insights and the feeble fragments of Alexia's memories. The struggle for employment continued, an uphill battle against a world that demanded more than I seemed capable of offering.
The sun had dipped below the horizon as I trudged back to my apartment, the weight of each rejection lingering on my shoulders like a heavy burden. My footsteps echoed in the quiet streets, a disheartening rhythm accompanying my thoughts.
"Every single interview, a disaster," I grumbled under my breath, my frustration bubbling to the surface. "I can't believe I'm failing so miserably. What happened to the determined techie who used to salvage SLDF tech with a smirk on her face?"
Arriving at my modest apartment, I sank onto the worn-out couch, surrounded by the stark reality of unpaid bills and the imminent threat of eviction. The neuro helmet, once a source of potential revelations, now sat on the table, its presence a constant reminder of my struggles.
"Can't pay rent, can't land a job," I muttered bitterly. "Maybe it's time I do something useful for once."
My gaze shifted to the SLDF neuro helmet, its intricate design gleaming under the faint glow of the room's dim light. The idea sparked in my mind—a desperate, yet potentially pragmatic solution. A mech. If I could trade the neuro helmet for a light mech, or perhaps even a medium one, it could be the lifeline I needed to secure employment in the competitive world of mercenaries.
"But who in their right mind would trade a mech for a neuro helmet?" I scoffed, my own idea sounding far-fetched. "I might as well try to swap it for a unicorn while I'm at it."
Yet, the more I considered the rarity and allure of SLDF tech, the more the idea gained traction. "A light mech might be more realistic," I reasoned, my mind calculating the potential options. "If the helmet's in factory new condition, maybe someone out there would see its value and trade it for a Jenner or a Locust."
A sly smile crossed my face at the prospect. "It's a long shot, but it's worth a try. A mech could open doors for me, give me the edge in landing a mercenary job. Plus, it beats being stuck in this apartment, drowning in unpaid bills."
However, the reality of the situation quickly sobered my enthusiasm. "If I'm going to save the bloody helmet, I'll need to find a salvage mech before the end of the month," I mumbled, the urgency of the situation sinking in. "Otherwise, I'll be on the streets, with my precious neuro helmet as my only companion."
The thought of parting with the SLDF tech, a relic from a forgotten era, tugged at my heartstrings. "But sacrifices need to be made," I grumbled, my gaze fixed on the helmet. "If trading it for a mech is my ticket to stability, then so be it."
As I contemplated the daunting task ahead, a sense of isolation enveloped me. "Always feels like I'm alone in a universe that favors everyone else but me," I muttered, the bitterness seeping into my words. "But if I have to navigate this chaos solo, then I'll do whatever it takes to come out on top."
With a determined sigh, I rose from the couch, ready to embark on a mission to secure my future. The SLDF neuro helmet, once a symbol of potential revelations, now represented a potential lifeline. Whether it led to a light mech or a desperate dead-end, I was determined to face the challenges head-on.
"I'll make this work," I affirmed to myself, the resolve in my voice cutting through the despondency. "One way or another, I'll find a way out of this mess, even if it means parting with the remnants of the Star League Defense Force's legacy."
Determined to change my fate, I stepped out once again into the bustling streets of Geneva, a newfound sense of purpose pushing me forward. With a week's window and the SLDF neuro helmet nestled securely in my backpack, I set out to turn my luck around. My goal was clear – secure a mech, salvage my future.
The sun hung low in the sky as I entered a local establishment offering mech recovery vehicles for rent. The prospect of having a week to scour the Inner Sphere for a salvageable mech filled me with a mix of anticipation and anxiety. This was my chance, a single week to make or break my future, and maybe, just maybe, Lady Luck would smile on me.
The rental agent, a middle-aged man with a weary expression, looked up as I approached. "Looking for a recovery vehicle?" he asked, his tone a mix of curiosity and skepticism.
"That's right," I replied, trying to exude confidence despite the uncertainty gnawing at me. "I need one for a week, and I need it to be in top-notch condition."
He eyed me for a moment, sizing me up. "Mech recovery isn't a stroll in the park, you know. You need experience, skills, and a good reason to be poking around salvage yards. What's your story?"
I took a deep breath, summoning the resolve to lay out my situation. "I'm Alexia Jenkins. I've got a unique set of skills, learned at Sandhurst, but I got expelled before I could put them to good use. Now, I need a chance to prove myself. I'm in dire need of a mech to get back on my feet, and I believe this week is my shot at turning things around."
The agent raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued but not entirely convinced. "Sandhurst, huh? Why'd they kick you out?"
I hesitated, a twinge of discomfort flashing across my face. "Warhammer-related incident during a training exercise. Let's just say things didn't go as planned."
He chuckled, a gruff sound that seemed to ease the tension. "Well, we've all got our stories. The question is, can you handle a mech recovery vehicle?"
A determined glint entered my eyes. "I've spent enough time tinkering with SLDF tech, salvaging whatever I could find on Terra. I know my way around a neuro helmet, and I'm confident I can handle this."
He leaned back, considering my words. "Alright, Jenkins, here's the deal. I'll rent you the recovery vehicle for a week. You pay upfront, no refunds. If you bring it back in one piece, great. If not, you're on the hook for repairs. Deal?"
I nodded, acknowledging the terms. "Deal. But I need your assurance that this vehicle is in top condition. I can't afford any setbacks during this week."
A sly smile crossed his face. "You've got my word. The vehicle will be as good as new. Just remember, the sky's the limit, but you've got only a week to reach it."
As the contract was finalized, I found myself standing before the gleaming recovery vehicle, a mixture of excitement and nervous energy coursing through me. The agent handed over the keys, and I felt the weight of responsibility settle on my shoulders. This was my chance, a week to prove my worth and secure a future beyond the struggles that had defined my recent days.
With the SLDF neuro helmet at my side and the recovery vehicle at my disposal, I climbed onto the flatbed, taking a moment to savor the freedom and opportunity before me. The sun began its descent, casting a warm glow across the horizon.
As the engine roared to life, I looked into the sunset with a determined gaze. "One week," I murmured to myself, a newfound fire burning within. "I'll find a salvageable mech, secure a job, and change my fate. No more stumbling through life—I'm taking control."
The recovery vehicle rumbled forward, carrying me toward the uncertain but hopeful path that lay ahead. With the SLDF neuro helmet as my guide and the vastness of the Inner Sphere awaiting exploration, I embarked on a journey where the only limit was the sky itself.