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Mobile Suit Gundam: The One Year War

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Sushi

Sushi

#fuckcancer


Luna II
March, U.C. 0079​
_____Out in Earth's shadow, rocket plumes danced like fireflies. They were comets on a leash, swirling around a lumpy asteroid studded with blinking lights. Around Luna II, the war was muted. The installation was opposite Luna and the Sides, tucked behind the bulk of the Earth. Frequently neglected by the Federation's own supply fleets, it was far from the Principality's control, and the last bastion of Federation influence in space.

_____Luna II was the Earth Federation Space Force's last naval base.

_____Luna II was being patrolled by a trio of Zeonic mobile suits.

_____One was the Principality's old Zaku, less barrel-chested than the MS-06, and topped with an longated, snout-like helmet surrounding the red mono-eye sensor. The left shoulder bore heavier armor than the right, studded like an improvised cudgel. The machine orange and mustard yellow, with black stripes along the skirt. It lagged behind the other two machines, clad in ash-grey. Glaring red mono-eye sensors swiveled in finned, dome-shaped heads. They were more slender than the Zaku, with cylindrical limbs and exposed joints. The difference in mass was offset by the enormous bell housing of the rocket engine in each mobile suit's backpack. The first machine, highlighted with dark red lines, overtook its wingmate on a roaring plume of exhaust.

_____Roaring. In space. The Zaku's software provided an artificial soundtrack to the harsh vacuum around them. Lieutenant Revelle watched the telemetry dance for the two machines, an eye on her watch. "Three... two... one. Cut burn. Achilleia, unit one was faster. Again. That's three for three. You and Callista, recover the Zudahs for the next run. That's all we have fuel for."

_____Strike Fighter Squadron-3 had been engaged in an endless cycle of testing and evaluating, rearranging and reconstitution. It had been two months since the war had started, and the old unit was only now becoming cohesive again. A small part of her said that it was natural a deployment would follow soon. "Achilleia," Rev sighed. "If you had to describe the replacements we got today in one word..."

 
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Achillea couldn't quite keep a sneer from crossing her face when the artificial roar of the engines came on over the cockpit speaker. Amateurs. What kind of pilot couldn't pick up enough feedback from the sound and feel of her ride? It told her a lot about the Zeke mentality, and what it told her wasn't flattering.

It was just like she'd thought back at Loum. They had the technology but not the people. Put the same technology in the hands of proper Federation veterans and they'd slaughter the Zekes.

And that was exactly why she was here. Assessing enemy technology, gathering data, making it possible for the Federation to field its own Mobile Suits and give its people a decent chance against Zeon. Because someone needed to stop those murdering bastards, by shooting every last one of them if necessary.

She turned the Zudah around. The techs had been whinging at her the whole time, complaining about the stresses she put the suit through, afraid that their precious trial unit might come apart at the seams. They had been less than impressed when she'd told them that she fully intended to find the limits of the Zudah's flight envelope and structural integrity.

Just then, Rev's voice broke into her thoughts. She grunted at the question, then keyed her mic.

"...raw. One-Two out."
 
_____"Roger. One-Two, Three-Niner, this is the last run." Rev leaned back in her seat, her back popping several times as she attempted to stretch in the confines of her captured tin can. "I've reset the clocks. After a ten count, I want a twenty second synchronized burn at emergency power." She twisted at the Zaku's handles, little puffs of reactants carrying the orange construction machine out of their flight-path. A ghostly finish-line dropped into their displays, a point somewhere in the horizon past Luna II. Her eyes wandered to the diagnostics at her side, green semi-circles capped at the top end with angry red. "Eye on those gauges. If your guts say scram, then scram. We can always rebuild these Zeon shitbuckets. Though... loser pays for the drinks when we initiate the rookies."

_____"Hit it."
 
Callista couldn't stop the yawn exhaling out of her mouth, her free hand already up to her face before it was blocked by the glass that separated her from the cockpit. The tears welling up in her eyes annoyingly blurred her vision and was promptly rectified with a vigorous application of eyelids.

God, was this a boring assignment.

Granted, she really should be grateful that she had been assigned to some rearguard after that brutal shitstorm she was caught in a couple months back to test the capabilities of the Zudahs she had captured and so rightfully owned, and it's a quiet assignment within the fairly safe confines of Luna II.

It still didn't change the fact that it's still a boring as fuck assignment. Hours of engine testing, re-calibrating and staring at the black expanse of space wasn't exactly what Callista would define as 'reinvigorating'. Quite frankly, she would rather be back at the ship ripp-negotiating with her fellow shipmates. She just had new stock that she's pretty sure some of them would be pretty interested in.

Sushi said:
_____"Roger. One-Two, Three-Niner, this is the last run." Rev leaned back in her seat, her back popping several times as she attempted to stretch in the confines of her captured tin can. "I've reset the clocks. After a ten count, I want a twenty second synchronized burn at emergency power." She twisted at the Zaku's handles, little puffs of reactants carrying the orange construction machine out of their flight-path. A ghostly finish-line dropped into their displays, a point somewhere in the horizon past Luna II. Her eyes wandered to the diagnostics at her side, green semi-circles capped at the top end with angry red. "Eye on those gauges. If your guts say scram, then scram. We can always rebuild these Zeon shitbuckets. Though... loser pays for the drinks when we initiate the rookies."

_____"Hit it."
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Oh, it's almost over? And loser has to treat the greenhorns? Fucking finally~

"Roger, double-o, pushing engine to full burn. One-Two, I hope you got your paycheck early." Callista stepped on the gas and never looked back.

The entire space her team was in was nothing but mini-asteroids and ship debris, virtually all leftover carcasses from the Battle of Loum. Callista swiveled and dodged the incoming mutilated remains of ships past, the brunette shooting through a gutted Salamis and narrowly squeezed passed the charred hole on the other hand. Years of navigating through asteroid fields and months of riding the Zudah made damn sure that she wouldn't be caught off-guard in a hazardous environment like this.

That money was as good as hers, she mused.

@Kensai
 
NephyrisX said:
Callista couldn't stop the yawn exhaling out of her mouth, her free hand already up to her face before it was blocked by the glass that separated her from the cockpit. The tears welling up in her eyes annoyingly blurred her vision and was promptly rectified with a vigorous application of eyelids.

God, was this a boring assignment.

Granted, she really should be grateful that she had been assigned to some rearguard after that brutal shitstorm she was caught in a couple months back to test the capabilities of the Zudahs she had captured and so rightfully owned, and it's a quiet assignment within the fairly safe confines of Luna II.

It still didn't change the fact that it's still a boring as fuck assignment. Hours of engine testing, re-calibrating and staring at the black expanse of space wasn't exactly what Callista would define as 'reinvigorating'. Quite frankly, she would rather be back at the ship ripp-negotiating with her fellow shipmates. She just had new stock that she's pretty sure some of them would be pretty interested in.



Oh, it's almost over? And loser has to treat the greenhorns? Fucking finally~

"Roger, double-o, pushing engine to full burn. One-Two, I hope you got your paycheck early." Callista stepped on the gas and never looked back.

The entire space her team was in was nothing but mini-asteroids and ship debris, virtually all leftover carcasses from the Battle of Loum. Callista swiveled and dodged the incoming mutilated remains of ships past, the brunette shooting through a gutted Salamis and narrowly squeezed passed the charred hole on the other hand. Years of navigating through asteroid fields and months of riding the Zudah made damn sure that she wouldn't be caught off-guard in a hazardous environment like this.

That money was as good as hers, she mused.

@Kensai
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Achilleia nodded. Coriolle was an asshole, but she was a hell of a lot better pilot than she let on. That smuggler schtick she had going covered up some real flying chops. They'd proven that in the last few weeks as she and Achilleia pushed each other - and, more pertinently, their machines - right up to the edge.

They'd never quite gone over though. They'd stayed just this side of the envelope, even as the vibrations built and the thrusters roared and the rattletrap Zudahs threatened to fly apart. It had been hair-raising, pants-shrinking flying - but it still left Achilleia strangely numb. Once the adrenaline wore off, it was as if they'd accomplished not very much at all.

She knew it really wasn't so. The data they were gaining was precious, far more so than even the shooting down of a hundred Zekes, if only because it meant getting the Federation the tools it would need to shoot down a thousand later on.

But it still felt empty. And that, for a test pilot, was a dangerous place to be.

Later, when they debriefed, and Achilleia felt the acrid burn of anger and shame as Rev tore her a new orifice in that cold, contemptuous way, she would realise just why she'd done it.

- because she'd been bored.

But in the moment, she just gave a mental shrug at Coriolle's taunt, and slammed the throttle forward, harder than she knew the Zudah was designed to take, throwing it into an accelerating spiral that would put it in position to barrel-roll around the Salamis carcass that Coriolle was going through. It was a showy, risky move, quite out of character for Achilleia.

If she'd had a drink bulb of beer, she'd have held it out for someone to hold.

The Zudah tried its best, but it just couldn't make the turn, and it gave out in protest. A joint popped, its leg flung out, and the resulting imbalance in equilibrium sent it spinning briefly out of controlled flight.

It would survive, in repairable condition even, but having one of the test units battered by flying into a debris field at high speed would set the test schedule back more than a couple of days.
 
​
_____It was a screaming victory.

_____Callista felt the rattling in her pedals first as the gauges blinked red, warnings blaring across the cabin. Even though her throttle remained still at her side, the Zudah's engine continued to soar, her forward speed picking up. Rev's voice cut in as soon as her speed picked up. "Callista, you're going above safe limits. Cut power." The throttle wouldn't obey her, or the attitude pedals, every passing second adding more speed to the careening heap of hardened steel and rocket fuel. Her giant firecracker soared past the Salamis, the finish line and Achilleia's floundering mobile suit. She had won the race, but the problem was stopping.

_____An alarm screamed, another sensor hitting critical levels of heat, and the OS insistently blared in her ears about an engine bell fracture being imminent. The throttle had given up the ghost entirely.

_____"Callista," Rev said again, cool as ice. "You're hitting the heat ceiling. You ran your number one tank empty, didn't you? Reroute the main engine to number one and starve the son of a bitch!"
 
Shit shit shit shit shit!

Callista screamed in her mind as red lights shone and klaxons blared in places she didn't know existed in her cockpit as the Zudah sped past the finish line and the token gesture of a 'safety limit' the reactor has. The thrusters weren't responding, the controls now treat her controls as suggestions in a box and she had Rev talking into her ear like some disappointed teacher speaking to a naughty student in a soon-to-be flaming metal coffin. Come on, Rev, say something usefu-
Sushi said:
"Callista," Rev said again, cool as ice. "You're hitting the heat ceiling. You ran your number one tank empty, didn't you? Reroute the main engine to number one and starve the son of a bitch!"
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Oh, right, that.

Freeing her hands off the useless controls, her fingers were smashing against the buttons on the panel, diverting whatever fuel-guzzling system into the empty tank. Slowly but surely, the banshee sirens (or was that her now becoming deaf?) and the glaring lights began to reduce in frequency before they were all silenced.

"...Status green. All systems nominal. Three-Nine, out."

Letting out a breath she didn't know she had, Callista removed her helmet and tossed it at the screen before her and put her palms to her face. Fucking hell, that was close. If there was a way to die, "burning in an experimental prototype box because I went in too fast" wasn't the one she actively wante-.

Callista body froze. She forgot something. Something wasn't right. She's still not out of danger. Frantically looking through her panels and screens and indicators, Callista looked through everything. Shit, what was it she missed, WHAT IS IT-

Oh.

Right.

"Err, Zero, One-Two, can either of you pick me up? I can't stop."
 
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NephyrisX said:
Shit shit shit shit shit!

Callista screamed in her mind as red lights shone and klaxons blared in places she didn't know existed in her cockpit as the Zudah sped past the finish line and the token gesture of a 'safety limit' the reactor has. The thrusters weren't responding, the controls now treat her controls as suggestions in a box and she had Rev talking into her ear like some disappointed teacher speaking to a naughty student in a soon-to-be flaming metal coffin. Come on, Rev, say something usefu-

Oh, right, that.

Freeing her hands off the useless controls, her fingers were smashing against the buttons on the panel, diverting whatever fuel-guzzling system into the empty tank. Slowly but surely, the banshee sirens (or was that her now becoming deaf?) and the glaring lights began to reduce in frequency before they were all silenced.

"...Status green. All systems nominal. Three-Nine, out."

Letting out a breath she didn't know she had, Callista removed her helmet and tossed it at the screen before her and put her palms to her face. Fucking hell, that was close. If there was a way to die, "burning in an experimental prototype box because I went in too fast" wasn't the one she actively wante-.

Callista body froze. She forgot something. Something wasn't right. She's still not out of danger. Frantically looking through her panels and screens and indicators, Callista looked through everything. Shit, what was it she missed, WHAT IS IT-

Oh.

Right.

"Err, Zero, One-Two, can either of you pick me up? I can't stop."
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Achilleia's response was deadpan.

"One-two. I'll pick you up. Price is one round of drinks for the rookies."
 
_____It was another sleepless in the Luna II pilot's club. After another simulator bout with Burning's pilots, Strike Fighter Squadron—3 had been left largely to their own devices in the club. Luna II was always slightly short on supplies, but the hot chow and showers were a far cry from their fare on Trafalgar months before. That felt like an eternity now for the veterans. Test flight after test flight, Luna II had all but shut down combat sorties for the squadron.

_____The squadron had accumulated as much flight time as any other unit in the EFSF. Now it was a waiting game as they went through the laborious mobile-suit trials. Most of them were asleep or relaxing when the announcement finally swept through the base. "Attention, all hangar personnel are to don normal suits and enter protected areas! Be advised, possible out-of-control mobile suit approaching hangar one. All non-essential personnel are to leave the hangar immediately."

_____A smirking redhead cut into their monitors as the base alarms started to drone. It was Ensign Carlyle, one of the pilots they had come to rely upon in the weeks since Loum. Along with Burning's pilots, she was part of the growing cadre of veteran pilots switching to the mobile suits. "You wouldn't believe the screaming I heard from Coriolle just now. Get your butts on deck and greet them properly, will ya? Heartbreaker, taking off." The deck shuddered as her Saberfish lit from the catapult, winging into vacuum to join the others patorlling the base.

_____There they were.

​

_____The first Zudah was striped with dark red, a little worse for wear with exhaust burns and one leg rattling as it came down. The one it dragged in a net of two cables looked even worse, with a dimmed mono-eye and a partially slagged main engine housing. The powered-down unit was severely dented and gashed around orange identification stripes, one arm hanging on by a few hydraulic lines. They lurched and tumbled in the reduced gravity, coming to a kneeling rest.

_____Their orange Zaku lighted to a gentle landing a few steps away, the cabin hissing open as the hangar doors locked behind them. A plate of armor fell off a Zudah with a bone-rattling clang, and a swarm of maintenance personnel descended on the machines. Rev glanced to Achilleia and Callista with a little shrug of the shoulders.

_____"On the flip side... you're going to be real popular with the rookies, Callista."
 
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Achilleia popped her helmet off and wrinkled her nose at the reek of burnt hydrocarbons and coppery stench of overheated metal. She spared Coriolle a quick glance, saw that she was ambulatory, then turned her attention to Rev.

"I know, boss. We fucked up. No excuses. But we're going to need suits that can stand a little fucking up. There's no point going all high performance if you have to baby the fuckers through any amount of real ACM. You know as well as I do that most jockeys are going to push the damn things as hard as they'll go. If you can't build them any tougher, we'll have to limit them at the OS level, and that will suck donkey balls for any kind of operational flying. Then they'll start getting clever and trying to find ways around the soft limits and we'll see guys flying into walls - "

She was talking too much and she knew it, instinctively trying to cover up her own shame and embarrassment. Like she hadn't ever grown out of high school. She shook her head to clear it.

"Anyway, we fucked up. Coriolle and me both, we'll split the tab at the O-club. You can ream me out at the debrief."

She spun away from Rev with her cheeks burning almost as red as her hair.
 
It had only been two months...

If it had been peace she would have been invalided out due to her the injuries she had sustained. But the Federation still had use for her. Not that the Top Brass could have kicked her out if they tried. Isabella had seen the casualty reports, everyone had. Fleets and armies destroyed in instant. The Federation need every warm body they could muster up, from retired veterans to cadets fresh out of school. Just like Johnny...

A sharp pain raced across her hand. She looked down and saw blood trickling from her clenched first.

Sushi said:
Attention, all hangar personnel are to don normal suits and enter protected areas! Be advised, possible out-of-control mobile suit approaching hangar one. All non-essential personnel are to leave the hangar immediately."
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The voice over the intercom snapped her back to reality. She quickly grabbed a napkin near from one of the food counters and wiped clean the blood, one of her fingernails cutting a deep trench into the flesh of her palm.

Hoping that no one had seen her, Isabella joined the others to the hangar and saw the Zudah that had been captured at Loum had been wrecked.

She kicked off one of the walls and drifted over to her fellow test pilots.

"So I hope you guys didn't get in a firefight without me then?" Isabella joked, her hand unconsciously tracing the scars around her now empty eye socket.
 
Mack whistled as he walked onto the deck in his Normal Suit, feeling slightly vindicated in his choice to avoid piloting Mobile suits for now.

"Looks like we don't have too much to worry about the Zeeks in the long run if this is their idea of mechanical refinement, 'less of course this sort of thing is a talent of Callista's..." Mack almost bit his tongue at that barb. Christ, what if mom had seen me say that? Being cooped up in Luna 2 had not done wonders for his mental health.

He ran as fast as he could in Luna 2's environment towards the landed Mobile Suits, before pushing off the deck towards their pilots.

@Sushi @NephyrisX @Kensai

"What happened out there? Did you run into a Zeek patrol or something?"
 
DannyboyZero said:
The voice over the intercom snapped her back to reality. She quickly grabbed a napkin near from one of the food counters and wiped clean the blood, one of her fingernails cutting a deep trench into the flesh of her palm.

Hoping that no one had seen her, Isabella joined the others to the hangar and saw the Zudah that had been captured at Loum had been wrecked.

She kicked off one of the walls and drifted over to her fellow test pilots.

"So I hope you guys didn't get in a firefight without me then?" Isabella joked, her hand unconsciously tracing the scars around her now empty eye socket.
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Achilleia turned towards Isabella, ready to snap angrily at the joke, when she saw the other pilot's hand working at her scars. Her scowl fell away and she forced an unnatural grin to her lips.

"Heh..." she chuckled awkwardly. "You know we wouldn't keep all the Zekes to ourself. Any time there's real shooting I'd want you around. But nah...."

tankdrop24 said:
"What happened out there? Did you run into a Zeek patrol or something?"
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The scowl came right back and it was a relief for Achilleia to turn her attention to Mack instead.

"If we'd run into Zekes we wouldn't be in this bad shape. I got cocky and sloppy. Coriolle just rolled snake-eyes with her suit. Throttle stuck open, and if it hadn't been for Rev she'd be out past Mars by now and heading for a flyby over Saturn."

She shrugged. "We can talk about it at the O-Club. Coriolle and me are going to be buying and I need a motherfucker of a drink right now." And then her eyes narrowed as realisation dawned.

"Oh, fuck you Rev. Bastard made sure at least one of us was going to pay and we went fangs out for it like fucking rookies."
 
Luna II Hangar

Christopher O'Brien sucked his teeth as he watched one of the mobile suits be tugged in on tow ropes. "Here we go," he muttered to himself. "What's the damage this time? Finally manage to make the rear thrusters explode? You know that any replacement parts need to be manufactured in house, per order right? We don't have a stockpile. This shit takes time and money! Both of which are about to be on a primeium." He sighed and flicked a finger to the far wall. "Over there. I'll see what I can do fr her." After a moment he added. "Try not to cause an explosive decompression on your way out."
 
Kensai said:
The scowl came right back and it was a relief for Achilleia to turn her attention to Mack instead.

"If we'd run into Zekes we wouldn't be in this bad shape. I got cocky and sloppy. Coriolle just rolled snake-eyes with her suit. Throttle stuck open, and if it hadn't been for Rev she'd be out past Mars by now and heading for a flyby over Saturn."

She shrugged. "We can talk about it at the O-Club. Coriolle and me are going to be buying and I need a motherfucker of a drink right now." And then her eyes narrowed as realisation dawned.

"Oh, fuck you Rev. Bastard made sure at least one of us was going to pay and we went fangs out for it like fucking rookies."
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"Well, look on the bright side, at least you only have to pay for drinks and not the repairs on those Mobile Suits." Mack tried to lighten the mood.
 
Maion had found his way to the hangar, his normal suit on and looking about as painted on as his smile. He couldn't help himself - here he was, surrounded by technology and he was getting a look at it every time something pulled in.

...except normally he didn't get a look at it quite this smacked around.

He had a million lines for this one, all of them he was certain he'd get smacked around like a squash ball for, especially with Achilleia looking like somebody had touched a nerve. Luckily, it seemed some of his fellows from Loum had beaten him to the punch and would take some of the brunt as soon as someone returned fire.

He decided he'd at least take a chance with the shortest burst he had so he could wheel back around and make for home as soon as something went topsy-turvy.

With a little nod and an index finger pointed up to the Zudah, he smiled and dryly remarked "Armor works."
 
Rhea was asleep in her bunk as it was her rest shift after sending out a rather heated result to her parents. They wondered where they were, she had yet to put out any of the various commercials or statements that were slatted before joining that silly unit to get some experience. There were more important things Rhea could be doing than play soldier! The fact that there were literally millions dying out here in space did not matter that much to them, especially since she was caught here in the middle. Fearing that the Zekes would launch an assault on Luna II to gain complete space supremacy was always on the back of everybody's mind. It wasn't like she could just take a shuttle back to Earth, not only would that be consitered desertion, but she was one of the few pilots who killed a mobile suit made Rhea a rare commodity that the Federation wasn't going to let go for no good reason. Not that she would go if a free ticket fell into her lap. The future of humanity will be forged out here, and Rhea wasn't going to leave her fate in the hands of anybody else.

That was before the alarms woke her, "What the..." She made out before hearing the warning about putting on their normal suits. "Aw shi-!" Rhea shouts as she quickly gets out of bed to reach the normal suit locker, only to forget she was in low gravity. What should have sent her running to the locker launched her into the opposite wall producing a rather creative stream of profanity for nobody to hear. Once she gets enough brain power to do more than curse, Rhea hurriedly puts on her normal suit, not leaving until she is properly sealed in.

Trundling into the hangar bay like an annoyed marshmallow, Rhea asks, "What's going on? Where's the enemy? Why is everybody standing around?"

Looking about a little confused, Rhea pulls the helmet off so others can actually hear her, "I guess that it's not the Zekes since people aren't running around in a panic. So who screwed up?"
 
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"Again?" Heidt muttered to himself and frowned as he saw the condition of the two returning test units. Trying to push the units to their limits was one thing, but why was it that one was always dangerously close to exploding and the other always had to come back a wreck as if to compensate? The rather brightly colored Zaku I wasn't even really meant for combat if he recalled. It was probably there to drag back whatever was left if things really went to shit. He supposed that he shouldn't be complaining about the lack of real battle since the shit show that was Loum, but the constant testing was growing old. At this point, he wondered if there was much new to learn about the mobile suits still, other than a lot of pilots being figurative fish out of water. Or, more literally, fighter pilots in just walking (?) humanoid death machines in space. After some manual reading and testing, he was getting AMBAC, but having legs on mobile suits while in space still somewhat confused him. Well, it was easier to get used to even if it wasn't entirely efficient.

"Still. It looks like the Zudah is still the so called high performance prototype compared to the other suits." He had ample time to observe the suits tested to... Well, ALMOST the limit. Apparently this prototype had a nasty habit of violent instantaneous explosion if pushed too hard. The thrust output seemed positively monstrous compared to anything else they had brought on board. He wanted to pilot it to some degree, but the speed and maneuverability had a trade-off with armor and fire power. Heidt preferred something a little less absurd. It definitely wasn't a suit to be handled by just anyone. The thought of the reactor and engine going critical on a reckless rookie in a bad moment made him wince internally.

In any case, there wasn't much use in thinking about it. Heidt didn't have much of an interest in whatever silly gamble his squad mates had in mind while racing. He was happy that it took some of the edge off, but his own inactivity was starting to make him antsy. Perhaps it was time for a nap or a workout later. It would have to wait until the alarms stopped blaring for a while at least.
 
_____The squad came erupting from the woodwork, all veiled smiles and half-awake concern. She greeted their ever-eager chief with a nod first. "After dancing on the point of a needle for so long, we drew a little blood," Rev said. "Unit two didn't like some tough love and Callista had a set of dead controls. We responded accordingly, and with minimal damage. If it's too hard to find some spares for an orphaned cyclops on Luna II, I doubt we'd have better luck on earth. Unit two has powerplant damage, but it's superficial on unit one. Worst comes to worst, we have a nearly-complete set of spares." She kept her rigid state of attention as Achilleia ribbed her, though the slight tilt of her head would have been the equivalent of anyone else breaking into a grin.

_____"I wouldn't be too rough on Achilleia. Word on the grapevine says she was going to be Lieutenant Commander Anemos before shutting down the promotion," the brunette said. "Apparently, our fearless ace has a soft spot for us."

_____The ribbing ran its course as the pilots stood in their school-circle. After lending an ear to the ensigns, Rev turned smoothly to Isabella next, her amethyst-colored eyes bright. "Lieutenant Sanchez, take it easy on the drinks. The flight surgeon cleared you for the field just a few hours ago, and I'll need you sober when our replacements come in."
 
Luna II, Pilot's Lounge 03
March, U.C. 0079​
_____After a long stay aboard a Salamis-class cruiser, one of Luna II's most welcome changes was the presence of a large gravity block around the edge of the installation. After passing a battery of standard Federation medical tests, personnel on "shore leave" could enjoy Earth-style showers and gyms, and tasting nuances of food that their clogged sinuses had long ago forgotten. Another rare luxury materialized in the form of actual drinking glasses and ice as the pilots claimed the lounge, a variety of brews from Earth and the sides available on tap. O'Brien wasn't technically supposed to be there, but the bar-tender didn't dare bring up the technicality.

_____It was a break from the slate grey and unfinished metal of Luna II, brick facade and varnished wood around them. Unit patches and trophies adorned the walls, along with marked bottles their comrades had used as prizes for competitions on the base, scale models and trophies of war. There was even a fully intact ejection seat from a Saberfish that sat at the head of the large table in the center of the room. It was roomy enough to take a platoon, the ceiling was higher than the cramped corridors, and the plush leather armchairs had been used by many of them for a fast nap away from prying eyes.

_____Rev sat with Lieutenant Havilland on one of the couches. Her scotch sat mostly untouched as she pored over the most recent set of orders they had received. The Zudah was largely dismantled, and mobile suit operations were, for the time being, grounded. "Looks like Isamu won't be joining us after all," she said. "He's been transferred to the mighty 248th, Earthside." Rev glanced over at the blond, a relative newcomer to a unit that had long steeped in competitive and abrasive fighter jock culture. Others frequently referred to her as "the tanker" instead of by name. "With the attrition, you're our only heavy weapons specialist. I wouldn't expect a transfer back to your old unit soon." Rev poured a second glass for Zeya. "Go easy on them. You're part of the family now."

_____The floor beneath their feet shuddered as another supply ship docked in the port. Rev threw back her glass and closed the sheaf of documents in front of her, speaking over the general buzz of chatter and music. "... and that's the replacements."
 
A lanky, grey-haired man enters the lounge, adjusting a wrinkled white uniform that looks like it has been slept in. Walking to the bar, he taps it insistingly. "A shot of schnapps--actual schnapps--if you have it," he mutters in a raspy voice that sounds rather used to disappointment.
 
"Like they have the "time and resources" to bring actual fruit liquor into space," O'Brien snorted, half into his glass and half at the other man. "At least, not for us poor bastards. Hope ya like corn syrup. Cause that's probly all we be gettn for a long time."
 



"Woah, woah. We're finally getting to it huh?" With a bounce she took a leap off the ship, grinning as she landed. She turned her head over her shoulder and led with her face to turn about to show her smile to the man that her attention mainly was focused on, although she stared plenty and even chatted with a few others on the boat. "Law, do you think we'd be able to take on a Zeon ship? Maybe even two?" She began to take small hops up and down as though she were enforcing the fact that they were on land. Even with the days of ships being without gravity being one that she never really experienced it was nonetheless a ritual that emphasized the reaching of a destination.

Erina came to a stop and pursed her lips in a frown while her head leaned in with scrutinizing eyes squinting over at the man that was very much her senior, both in age and rank. "What? she inquired proactively. The frown faded into another smile and she straightened her back. "Well, it isn't like I'm wanting to go out and kill a bunch of people, but I'm still pretty curious as to what those things can do. Besides look at it this way, we're test pilots right? That means we can complain all we want and we get praised when it comes to feedback!"

Letting out a laugh she slapped at Lawrence's shoulder and began to make her way into the port. "So what about all the people coming in who aren't pilots? Are they also related to the projects or something? What do you think the other pilots are like, do you know them at all? We're meeting everyone at a lounge, I wonder if that says something about the attitude of this place. Well, I guess it isn't like a normal unit. in the first place. Maybe things will be smooth and relaxed."
 
Menwearpink said:



"Woah, woah. We're finally getting to it huh?" With a bounce she took a leap off the ship, grinning as she landed. She turned her head over her shoulder and led with her face to turn about to show her smile to the man that her attention mainly was focused on, although she stared plenty and even chatted with a few others on the boat. "Law, do you think we'd be able to take on a Zeon ship? Maybe even two?" She began to take small hops up and down as though she were enforcing the fact that they were on land. Even with the days of ships being without gravity being one that she never really experienced it was nonetheless a ritual that emphasized the reaching of a destination.

Erina came to a stop and pursed her lips in a frown while her head leaned in with scrutinizing eyes squinting over at the man that was very much her senior, both in age and rank. "What? she inquired proactively. The frown faded into another smile and she straightened her back. "Well, it isn't like I'm wanting to go out and kill a bunch of people, but I'm still pretty curious as to what those things can do. Besides look at it this way, we're test pilots right? That means we can complain all we want and we get praised when it comes to feedback!"

Letting out a laugh she slapped at Lawrence's shoulder and began to make her way into the port. "So what about all the people coming in who aren't pilots? Are they also related to the projects or something? What do you think the other pilots are like, do you know them at all? We're meeting everyone at a lounge, I wonder if that says something about the attitude of this place. Well, I guess it isn't like a normal unit. in the first place. Maybe things will be smooth and relaxed."
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"Maybe you should see if you can take on some Zakus first," Law quipped, quite used to Erina's antics. "I read your battle report. Far too reckless; that's why your aunt asked me to look after you, after all. If you go around pulling that with me, I'll..." he paused momentarily to think of a suitable threat for the shorter teenager. "Talk to your aunt about it."

Erina turned around to look at him then, and Law grumbled as she got in his way. He was almost tempted to simply glide around her, when he remembered that he wasn't in zero-G anymore. After spending such long periods of time in space, gravity was... uncomfortable, a little. He lightly put a hand on the younger girl's head, turning her around and guiding her towards Pilot Lounge 3 as she chatted. "Believe me, Erina, test piloting isn't nearly as good as it sounds. I remember when I went out," with your mother, went carefully unsaid, both for his and her sake's, "on the first Salamis-class deployments. Malfunctions, logistical disasters, over-engineering, it was trouble afoot everywhere. I remember spending hours re-calibrating the guns only for it to be ruined the next day." His hand reached down for his canteen, then strayed away as he remembered its unfortunate lack of contents. "For a fighter... or mobile suit, I guess, it'll probably be a million times worse. It's good that you're so enthusiastic to fly around in a deathtrap, though."

He lead her around a corner, carefully sifting through her chatterboxing. He was quite used to inane talk, from superiors, to parties, to overenthusiastic subordinates and more. It was good for people overall... maybe Erina was nervous too, despite her cheerful demeanor.

"The auxiliary staff are probably whitecoats or sensor jockeys for testing purposes. Or hell, maybe we'll have some actual heavy armor support if we ever see field. No, I haven't met or heard much bout the other pilots, but they're probably flyboys. Force's taking mainly from the pilots, after all, and I'm well acquainted with those types. Agg... actually, they should all pretty much be like you. You'll fit right in, don't worry. I've heard that this unit has a lot more higher COs than normal, though, so that might change things," probably to be harder for me, he mused, "I don't know about smooth and relaxed, though."

The pair entered the lounge, finally, and Law let out a little whistle, impressed. He scanned the room for a good place to sit.
 
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