Note: I'm going to be the main RoER character in here, not because I'm the biggest presence here – far from it! – but because I know myself better than I know anyone else, I think, and I don't want to risk upsetting anyone by taking too many liberties with the behavior of their character. Okies? And I'd just like to let everyone know that it's REALLY WEIRD to write about a persona based on yourself in the third-person. Very strange. Anyway, enjoy!

Brief character intro:

Dan: 21 year-old English dude, friendly and with way too much free time.

SITF: 17 year-old American from California, a poet, salad chef, and car nut.

Jana: 16 year-old Croatian; SITF's actual fiancee, and a talented artist and musician.

LZ (me): a 22 year-old American dude in Virginia, a systems administration major, a writer, amateur artist, and car nut.

FCS Founding, Chapter two

"An old LCAC?" Sera groaned. "That's it?"

"Looks like it," Shiva answered, using her ill-gotten triblade to point at the blue stenciled 'RoER' symbol emblazoned on the side.

"Hey Shiva, that guy we've been in contact with – he idid/i say he was a crewmember on an actual oceangoing vessel, didn't he?" Kabra asked.

"Yeah."

"So, where is he? Or are we supposed to pilot this thing ourselves?"

"I'm sure he's here . . . Hey! Anybody in there?" Shiva yelled at the landing craft. Sera cringed, holding a hand to her sensitive ears. Shortly afterward, a head could be seen sticking out of the battered little glass bridge. Not long after that, a jovial, curly-haired nezumi was bounding down the craft's loading ramp to greet them.

"Ah, you must be Kabra, Agnes, and Seratna! Welcome!" He ran up to them and was about to shake their hands, but Sera was the only one with a free hand - so he just shook hers. "I'm Burmecian Soldier Dan, just 'Dan' for short, and let me be the first to welcome you to our little task force!"

"Task Force?" Sera asked, trying not to sound disdainful.

"Well, it's two ships, so it's not quite a fleet, is it? C'mon now, let's get going! The vehicles should be here any second!"

"Eh?"

"You have cars, right? It'd be easier just to load 'em on here. Not many roads where we're going, but there will be some."

Kabra grinned, dropped his load, and ran back towards his car.

"No," Sera corrected, "I mean . . . two ships? Where?"

"Oh!" Dan laughed. "That! No safe berths here, anymore – too much rubble underwater. It's not safe for any ship worthy of the name. They're moored offshore! Sorry about that."

"What sort are they?"

"An old amphibious assault ship, and a mothballed frigate for escort."

"Hm . . . could be worse. How old are they?"

"Uh . . . let's just put it this way: they've been safely crossing the seas at least as long as the Captain has been alive."

"Okay, and how old is the Captain?" Dan started fidgeting, looking for the 'vehicles' to arrive. "How old is he?"

"Uh, mid thirties. But the ships are in great shape, and hardly any leaks!"

"Ugh . . . shouldn't have expected otherwise."

"Beggars can't be choosers," Shiva reminded. "And there weren't a whole lot of ships heading our way."

"Actually, there were, but they were all booked. Seems we're not the only ones interested in establishing memorials over there."

"Yeah, a cruise liner full of Zidane and Garnet fans left just this morning," Dan added. "Ah ha! Here they come."

Sera looked back down the road leading to the city, and gasped, "Is that my car?"

"Mm-hm."

"Who's driving it, and ihow/i and iwhy/i"

"Is it just me, or is that my beater pickup behind your wagon?" Agnes murmured to Sera as she squinted into the sun, holding a hand to her brow to shield her eyes.

"That's right! Since you didn't know one of our ships could carry cars, we didn't think you'd each bring one. So, two of our crewmembers went out to get them for you! Is that good service, or what?"

Sera's mouth opened, then closed again. Shiva seemed similarly affected, and simply stared at the oncoming vehicles, which were soon joined by Kabra's muscle car. Dan walked over to the ramp, waving the vehicles onboard one by one.

Agnes and Sera each stalked over to their respective vehicles (leaving Kabra to go back for the duffels he'd left) to meet the drivers, and hopefully to come up with some sort of witty, biting rejoinder about how they shouldn't have done it. Unfortunately nothing came to mind for either of them and they ended up just standing there in awkward silence, waiting for the drivers to get out.

The driver of the pickup was the first to exit. Tall, lanky, and with glasses, darkish blonde hair and a moustache/goatee to match, he didn't give Shiva a chance to be mad. "You know your air conditioning's broke, right?"

"You think this stinkin' thick fur coat ever lets me forget? I'm Shiva."

He nodded in greeting as he shut the door. "I'm Sir Irontail Fratley. Well, not really, but . . . long story." He waved a hand in dismissal. "You can call me Mike. And my fiancee, Jana, is manning the 40mm anti-air gun next to the ramp. You'll probably meet her before we get to the ship. Unless you'd like to meet her now . . . ?" The glint in his eyes made it obvious that he'd like to introduce his wife-to-be, who couldn't quite be seen behind the guns.

"Sure, why not?"

In the meantime, the driver of Sera's all-wheel-drive Nubaru Limpreza wagon was all grins as he got out. Sera was about to interrogate the nezumi with the dark spiked hair and goatee about being careful with her baby, but then she noticed how he shut the door. He kept his hand on the door all the way to the point that the latch engaged, and pushed it shut with the main part of the door rather than the window frame. And he used just enough force to shut it. iNo one does that, unless they're as borderline-obsessive about being gentle with a car as I am./i

He must've noticed her checking out her car, though, because he said, "You can check the tires, too – no extra wear on the sidewalls from bumping against curbs or sliding around corners." She raised a questioning eyebrow at him. "Well, I've always wanted to drive one of these, even if it's less than new . . . I treat every car as though it were my own. And I treat mine well. So, I treated yours well." She looked through the window, trying to see if there were any wires dangling beneath the steering wheel. "Oh, I didn't hotwire it – I just used the spare key you have in that magnetic box behind your bumper!"

"What? How could you have possibly known about that?"

"Because I have a spare key in about the same spot on my car. I'm known as Lancer Zero," he indicated a poorly drawn numeral '0' on his shirt, "But you can just keep calling me LZ. It's shorter."

"Ah! So you're the one we were in contact with . . . please tell me the ship we're going to isn't a rusted-over coffin with a cargo hold?"

"Heh – it's not."

At the same time, Dan was helping Kabra get his stuff back into the trunk (boot) of his car. "Gah! What do you have in these things?"

"I like to keep the corpses of my victims with me. Seriously, it's just my little survival kit. You'll see later."

"If you say so . . . alright, seems we're ready to go. Is your parking brake on?"

"No. Why?"

"We don't have any wheel chocks, and I don't want your car to bump the loading ramp into the water while we're moving, if you don't mind." As Kabra hurried to set the brake, Dan pushed the button that was supposed to raise the ramp. Key word: isupposed/i to. Instead, the hydraulic arms shuddered, then fell silent. Dan pushed the button again; but to no avail. "Oh, dammit . . . Mike! LZ!"

They looked, and knew immediately what was happening. The ramp hydraulics had been a constant problem, and it usually took all three of them to turn the winch that served as backup. But before they could get to the winch, Kabra did. "Nevermind, I've got it." With nary a grunt, he raised the ramp. The three crew raised their eyebrows, and got back to their respective jobs. Dan double-checked that everything was secure, Mike joined Jana up front to keep an eye out for any potential hazards, and LZ got behind the controls.

It's only fair, LZ reminded himself. Mike generally flies the tilt-rotor – when it's flyable, that is – so I drive the hovercraft. Besides, he'd probably rather be with Jana in the cupola than steering this beast. The elderly assault craft's engines spun up with a roar, the inflated air skirt quickly raising it up off the dirt lot next to the pier. Not bad for a piece of equipment that's half again as old as I am . . . He was gingerly turning the LCAC around, barely nudging the controls, when a knock on the door made him jump. The hovercraft jumped, too – right towards the pier instead of the ramp he'd been guiding it to.

Fortunately, the pier had nothing on it – except for a fifteen-foot drop at the end of it. LZ reversed the pitch of the propellers, but it was too late. He didn't even have time to brace himself – the impact slammed him to the deck with all the subtlety of a giant's fist. The person who'd knocked and startled the erstwhile pilot fell through the door, landing next to him with about the same amount of subtlety. It was Sera. LZ was about to say she should try knocking next time, but she had knocked.

"Sorry," was all she said. "I get seasick if I don't have a view."