<strong>Name:</strong>Aluce Base personnel – Lt. Mosby<br/><strong>Date:</strong>March 10, 2032<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Command Center, Personnel Department<br/><strong>With:</strong>T'chak<br/><hr/>Mosby drew a deep breath, exhaled slowly, drummed his fingers on his desk in the meantime. Whichever way he sliced it, it didn't look terribly good, but at least the man he was now facing was a professional – at least according to his file – and he would understand that sometimes the Sierra just hit the Foxtrot.<br/><br/>"I'll give it to you straight. There's no Glaug for you. In fact – as I understand it – there will be no new Glaug in the foreseeable future." He pushed himself a little further back in his chair, his hands now against the edge of his desk. The Lieutenant also considered himself a professional, and this was not the first Zentraedi he had to disappoint, but it sure was the biggest, most battle-scarred Zentran he ever had to deal with.<br/><br/>"I am no expert in these things, but the way I understand it there are reasons Glaug are usually only produced by specialized factory satellites. And ours just isn't equipped for it. Long story short, the latest batch looked good, but it seems they all have a major flaw." He picked up a sheet of paper from his desk and glanced over it. "Something about the power couplings. The moment the main gun is fired the engine becomes unstable or something like that. Command decided to pull them from active service and it might be months before the factory is re-tooled for another run of Glaugs. It's not really a priority right now."<br/><br/>The wall screen behind the Lieutenant split, as he pulled up the technical report on his computer, allowing T'chak a moment to look at the scrolling figures and schematics that revealed the problem in question to anyone versed in Zentraedi engineering. Mosby was not one of those people, but he figured it looked impressive enough to lend weight to his words.<br/><br/>"As you might have guessed that leaves us with the question what exactly to do with you, while headquarters makes up its mind about the pilots now left without a machine to fly. The way I see it, there are three options." He counted them on his fingers as he went on.<br/><br/>"Number one. You can go on leave for a while. Half pay, if you don't want to use up your accumulated vacation days. Number two, we assign you to some desk duty somewhere. Number three, we find you something else to pilot. You are too tall to really fit into a Queadluun cockpit, but we might have a slot in our Gnerl squadron open. And option four..."<br/><br/>Mosby's eyes narrowed a little. "Option four is you get micronized and take the Veritech training. We are short of pilots in some of our squadrons and your combat experience would be an asset to any squadron."