Carrie once again noted the peculiar build of the workshop district as she dashed around, and sometimes straight through, the people in her way. Despite looking chaotic, the district had a distinct sense of direction about it; you could look at five workshops and see only clutter, but look at the entire district and see a carefully engineered spider's web of communication roads, pulleys, lifts, and conveyors. She saw her CO's workshop as she dodged a particularly hulking engineer, the kind with more hair on his back than his head, having only a split second to admire the intricate paintwork and excellent craftsmanship on that gladiator-class warpiece.<span style="font-style: italic"><span style="color: #8040FF">Makes mine look like such a runt,</span></span>she thought, not for the first time considering to make Carnivore a heavier-class piece. She pushed the thought away, however, concluding, for the thousand-th time, that a lighter skirmisher suited her needs better.<br/><br/>Arriving at the infirmary three minutes late, Carrie stopped for a moment to catch her breath. There was nothing to help it now; She was going to get the lecture, wether she's three or five minutes overdue. Her break turned out to be short-lived, though, as a fellow healer - non-caster surgeon - approached her. His warm, wrinkled smile was a pleasant exchange from the scowls of her supervisor, yet she knew it was bad news.<br/><br/><span style="color: #80FF40">"Hey, Carrie. Got a bit late at the workshop again?"</span>The question was supposed to be casual, but the underlying strain was unmistakable. Something was afoot; Carrie's intuition screamed it.<br/><br/><span style="color: #8040FF">"Yeah,"</span>she replied,<span style="color: #8040FF">"Calibrating the target trackers proved more difficult than I expected. What's up, Zeke, you look a bit tense."</span>She looked at the grizzled medic, silent, arms crossed.<br/><br/>The old doctor, Zeke, gave a slow, ponderous nod.<span style="color: #80FF40">"Can't hide anything from you, can I? Well, you're right. You're to get back to the workshops and activate Carnivore. You need to report to... Damnit, Carrie, I don't know. Just get over to the harbour with Carnivore and report to the central hub. Apparently, your presence has been requested. Now, excuse me, I need to go - stitches to sew."</span><br/><br/>He turned and Left Carrie in a state of mild confusion and agitation.<span style="color: #8040FF"><span style="font-style: italic">Great, that dead dash for sweet FA. Alright, better get goin', before I get yet another CO yappin' about punctuality.</span></span><br/><br/>Taking somewhat more time getting back to the workshop, Carrie began reflecting on another odd thing. Whereas most soliders had a single commanding officer and maybe a specialist commander to report to, Carrie was thrown about by no less than four - no wait, now it would be five or more - separate officers. Quentin, her CO in the mechanized command, Jane, head surgeon at the infirmary, Lars, quartermaster of the southwest workshop cluster, and Jackson, provisioner for field medicine. She considered buying a small booklet just to keep track of them all.<br/><br/>Arriving at her workshop, Carnivore was charged and ready. She changed into a fresh uniform, plugged out the different cables and wires from the light frame of the warpiece, before opening a panel and flicking a switch, turning the warpiece on.<span style="color: #8040FF">"Time to go, Carnivore, we're needed."</span>She jumped onto the machine's right arm, nesting herself comfortably as the giant humanoid jogged towards the harbour at close to 20 miles per hour. Technically against protocol, but<span style="font-style: italic"><span style="color: #8040FF">noone really cares, right?</span></span><br/><br/>After a couple of minutes - Carrie could not tell how many - she arrived at the central tower. Looking around, she saw only one thing that could ever serve as an entrance - a large lift, recently down from transporting people and goods upwards. She approached the lift man, apprehensive.<br/><br/><span style="color: #8040FF">"Yo. I need to get to some kind of central authority here, a reception or something. I was supposed to report to someone here, but I don't have a name."</span><br/><br/>The man looked up at her with mild interest.<span style="color: #408000">"Geddin."</span><br/><br/>Carrie did as she was asked, getting on the lift. The man didn't seem to care about Carnivore at all, and soon, after loading a few crates, they were on their way up again.<br/><br/>The man stopped the lift about halfway.<span style="color: #408000">"You reportin' to Judas?"</span><br/><br/>Carrie perked an eyebrow.<span style="color: #8040FF">"No, not that I am aware of. Besides, I doubt such a legend actually requested me."</span><br/><br/>The man shrugged.<span style="color: #408000">"Then get off here."</span><br/><br/>Carrie did as she was told, and got off the lift. Parking Carnivore at a charging station, she walked deeper into the tower, eventually finding what could, if you were generous, be described as a rudimentary information centre. Carrie walked over to a woman behind a desk and slapped her ID on the counter.<br/><br/><span style="color: #8040FF">"Was told by Dr. Zeke Jethero Marlinsson to report here. I was given no specific place or person, soooo..."</span><br/><br/>The woman looked at her, then held up something that looked like a microphone, nonchalantly sending a loud message reverberating through the tower:<br/><br/><span style="color: #FF40FF">"Could the officer who requested the presence of one Specialist Carolina Magispark please report to the office floor, booth sixteen? I repeat, could the officer who requested the presence of one Specialist Carolina Magispark please report to the office floor, booth sixteen."</span>She then sat down and continued her work, not offering Carrie another glance.<br/><br/>Carrie just stood there, dumbfounded, running her hand through her long hair.<span style="color: #8040FF"><span style="font-style: italic">Guess I'll have to wait for someone to show.</span></span>