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Procurator Alycia Scanthor’s favorite perch on Cold The Ice Below was a windy one, nestled up next to the big carrier’s bridge wing CIWS mount. The only access was a truly atrocious path through the bridge tower’s server racks, meaning the location avoided most of the bustle and noise of the carrier’s ops decks. By comparison, a Procurator’s office and quarters were spacious, but by necessity they were located next to her Regimental Combat Team’s main spaces near the well deck, and she found that the thrum of the ship’s turbines and clamor of the flight deck just a level above tended to drown out one’s own thoughts.

Most important, however, was the fact that no sailor could muster an adequate argument against her smoking habit here, where no munitions or fuel could be found. Doing so in her office stank the place to hell, and it seemed to entitle her officers to come knocking with all their problems, something Lylah told her she should not discourage. Even Procurators listened to their aides, not when they were so insistent about such things. It helped that Captain Medik shared her vice- she had no doubt another Captain would have come down on her like a bag of bricks. Rank difference or not, it was his ship, his rules, and even if she was the First Factor she would have to bend.

This time the RCT would deploy with some strange company. A small flotilla trailed the Long Stops SIG by about a week; five ships strong, led by a Mythic frigate. Ratatoskr and her flotilla, flying a Prince’s colors, were to join them just south of Arcovdonia. There, a Zokesian corvette would give them their orders. It was a shady setup, but PLAID was no stranger to those. Perhaps the task had to do with what she had heard about the chaos in Nuvastia- PLAID hadn't been contracted as peacekeepers before, but it had to happen at some point. It would have been luckier to deploy to Pikkastan, Alycia's responsibilities as Procurator lay there, and certainly the area could use some securing, just a few months ago a massive armed raid had carted off some rich Laveskan's wine collection.

The wind picked up again, drops of icy water wetting her cheek, but her coffee cup kept her papers from flying off. It wouldn't do to make Lylah print copies again, after all. Cold The Ice Below heeled, and to her left Alycia spotted a Carabinier's rifle go over the side, with an accompanying shout of dismay. Cold hands weren't good for much, and with a sigh Scanthor tossed her cigarette, packed her papers and went inside. She would have to finish her planning inside.