"Who are you? Nevermind, ask why he's not in position-"

Tiro's so helpful. A few more chances to help like this spring up, but nobody's looking for him knowing he can sort-of speak ten languages.

And he only sort of speaks ten languages, and he wouldn't even know how to start actually advertising this capacity even if he felt comfortable enough in the skill to do that, but he stays in the red outline and listens and listens and every so often he hears someone needing a language and goes over to help.

The fact that most of the vocabulary he does know is military in nature helps with making military communications.

Perhaps an hour into this, there's a piercingly loud sound halfway between the metallic screeching from earlier and a bell ringing. This triggers a brief round of cheers before getting back to business.

That's, uh... good? That sounds like it was probably good.

That was good! It was the death-cry of one of the big buggers. They can deal with ground Neuroi easily enough, the flying ones were always the concern.

Of course, there's two more.

Yeah.

Tiro listens to languages and helps with translation difficulties.

The battle doesn't last that long.

Two more Neuroi death-bells follow soon, and then a lengthy mopping up of the ground forces. Most of the telephone traffic during this period is coordinating Witch dive bombers onto grounded Neuroi that nothing on their side is currently shooting at.

That sounds very promising!

The mopping-up will last a while, but everyone here can clearly handle it.

Gren comes back and comes inside looking for him. "I think we're pretty much done, relatively few casualties too, so I came to get you. How'd learning languages go?"

"I learned languages," he says. "A lot of them. Helped out a bit when someone needed one they didn't speak."

"Good! I don't know if you want to stick with this long term, or what you want to do, but 'translator' is an useful option to have."

"It is! I'm better at it than I expected. I speak two languages at home but I've never really had to translate for anyone."

"I'm glad... I want to know more about athrai. If they're as incomprehensible as you say maybe we'll have difficulty, but if they're as powerful as you say the generals want to try to get one aimed at the Neuroi."

"The way the Neuroi go around killing people, it shouldn't be too hard to convince an athra to do something about them... athrai are weird, though, it's hard to tell what they're thinking. If I see an athra I'll try it."

"About that... I'm in a sort of special position. I go around assigned to many different things and taking on unique tasks, mostly because of my unique flexibility and abilities of analysis, but this doesn't necessarily translate into political power. They don't want to let you try to go home through a teleporter either until several weeks from now if nothing more urgent comes up, or if there's something at least a little more concrete than maybe getting an athra ticked off at the Neuroi."

He shrugs. "Sure, as long as I've got food and somewhere to sleep until then. And maybe some new clothes, these ones have been shot a few too many times." His shirt is indeed in pretty bad shape.

"Is a uniform vest acceptable for now?" She starts walking out of the building to where her flying thing is sitting on the ground, and hops on it. "You might be able to borrow someone's civvies but they'll be sure to have thousands of uniforms in a box somewhere."

"Sure, why not."

So she flies him over to the quartermaster and requisitions a standard kit - a big box full of uniforms, soap, a tin cup, and a bunch of other things regarded as necessities. But no weapons.

The quartermaster isn't happy but it's not like she's asking for an artillery piece, she has enough authority for this.

And now Tiro can put on a shirt that doesn't have any holes in it! Hooray!

"Thanks," he says.

Yes, horray, he was getting a lot of odd looks what with not being in a uniform and being half-shirtless. And the gossip mill is already turning about the 'curse' of absurdly fast flight, regeneration, and shiny silver glowing veins.

"I have someone asking around for a place for you to sleep. D'you have any more questions? I certainly would, in your position. Want to go find a mess hall?"

"I'm sure I'd have plenty of questions if I had any idea where to start. Mess hall sounds good."

"Sure, this way. Oh, don't attach any unit or rank insignia to your shirt. You're not in a unit and don't have a rank. Yet, maybe."

"Makes sense!"

Fly, fly.

"You know it makes me wonder - what life is like without the Neuroi War. I've been in it one way or another since I was, what, eight? Nine?"