[IC] GEARs Redux [Winter & Silverwind Blade]

[Rhona W]

Fairport City
Eastern Bay County
Landren
Early-Autumn
18:30 hours

The evening was drawing in, and temperatures dropping. Leaves had started to turn in the avenues and parks of Fairport and all around Landren, and, of course, all across Arvara's Northern Hemisphere. Here in Fairport, the grey clouds of winter had rolled in, and the sky had already darkened. Fog was rolling in off of the water of the bay, and it's obscuring tendrils wrapped around the buildings of the sea-front city, it's damp scent mingled with the salt-water on the breeze.
Rolen stood on the upper deck of the (comparatively speaking) tiny Landcruiser. The wind ruffled the fur on his head and face, and he turned the collar of his bomber jacket up against the wind, as a shiver ran through his powerful frame.
Standing amidst the railings and masts of the Wandering Promise, the wolverine admitted to himself that the shiver wasn't just from the cold.
The land-ship had pulled into dock at the sea-side settlement for a resupply and refit after its' last excursion had ended in a violent confrontation.
While the small Landcruiser was, for all appearances a civilian salvage and freight vessel; and indeed was more than capable of carrying out such roles, the reality was it secretly also functioned as a vessel of the Landren Defence Forces Special Operations division. It's role was to go places and do things that would likely never show up in the history books or official documents and releases - unless something went terribly wrong.
Unfortunately, that had been what had almost happened on their last sortie. A mission to recover a prisoner being transported had ended with an intense firefight, and the Landcruiser itself had been drawn into the battle. He and his partner had managed to heavily damage the enemy, and their support team had recovered the prisoner. Unfortunately, in the parting shots, his partner had been killed.
That was the blunt explanation of it, of course. She was dead, killed and her GEAR turned into a burned-out, barely-there hulk as she had been hit by a point-blank shot from a particle lance as she made a diversionary attack that had driven off the hostile Landcruiser, and crippled it's weapons systems.
They'd been friends over the time they'd worked together, almost four years. And after the first two, their friendship had exploded into a professional respect and an intense and dynamic relationship. Not of the romantic kind - although, they had a definitive attraction - but a strong bond between people who understood one another, and had a great match of attributes and characteristics.
They did almost everything together, both out of necessity and the desire to do so, and had been comfortable in each others' presence to a spectacular degree. It had been surprising that it hadn't really toppled over the edge into a romantic relationship - beyond one or two isolated instances of drunken fumbling around a New Years' party, that had never become more.

And even though he hadn't loved her romantically, he missed her all the more. Dinah had been an integral part of his life, his duty, and of the ship. Now, her GEARs' remains, nothing more than heat-blistered alloys, plastics and composites in a mocking, melted soft-edged parody of a Arvaran shape, were being craned aboard a flatbed from the rear flat-deck of the ship. Pensive and neutral, he watched as the arm of the crane lowered the remains of the Jester to the flatbed, the shapes vague in the fog. The only background music was the muted hoot of fog-horns out in the bay, and the muffled shouts of foremen and workers around the small yard owned by the parent company for the salvage operation. That too was a front for the LDF, naturally.
Behind him, a hatch door creaked, and he reluctantly pulled himself back from maudlin thoughts and the whispers of ghostly voices in the fog. Turning, he saw Lucette Stirling, the captain of the ship and another good friend. Like him, the mare was dressed for the damp chill of the bay and wore a long, drawn expression.
"I knew I'd find you up here," she said in a quiet, strong voice. "It's where you always come when you're miserable or want to be alone."
"Not just me," he answered in his own rumbling tone. "I think it's everyones' quiet place. Ship this small, it's one of the only places to get away. Did you need me for something?"
She paused, coming to join him at the rail, and pursing her own lips as she saw the remains of the Jester being covered by a tarp on the back of the civilian low-loader. Flicking her braid aside in a twitch that betrayed her feelings, she studied his face with cool blue eyes before looking down as another transport entered the dock.
"The new pilot is coming aboard... I thought you should meet her. I know it's only been a week, but-"
"It's okay," he answered, looking down as the vehicle pulled up. "There's no point hanging around any longer. The more we wait, the more time we spend wallowing. I'd rather get back to work. At least then we're all busy".
"Yeah," she said with a nod, following his gaze as the tarp began to be pulled back and the shape of a new GEAR was revealed. "There's already a mission for us. They want us to go across the border to the East, into Iyuli and extract a defector... sounds like a walk in the park, as always, and a good way to throw ourselves back in."
"Do you think she's going to fit in," Ro asked as he squinted down at the shape of the pilot.
"Only one way to find out," Stirling replied. "Come on. And try not to look so... you".

A handful of minutes later, Ro stood at ground level on the dock, concrete beneath his boots. The crane was in motion once again, ready to haul the new GEAR aboard, and he stood with his hands in pockets, ready to welcome the new pilot aboard. She was a vulpine; lithe long haired and beautiful, especially her large and expressive eyes and had an air of alertness, confidence and interest to her. He stood by warily and with a look of interest as Stirling stepped forward and introduced herself.
"Lilly," she said by way of greeting, omitting rank as was normal for their unit. "Welcome to our group. I'm Captain Stirling-" the 'captain' referring to her position on the ship "-and this is Mr Razen. I'm sure he'll make his own introduction. We're looking forward to having you join us"
"Hi," said Ro after a long moment. "I'm Rolen. You can call me Razer or 'R.R' if you like. Nice to meet you".

[Winter]

The red fox stood alone in the twilight, her hands held neatly behind her back while she looked up at the large crane which lifted her GEAR on board the Wandering Promise, her form caught in the glare of the areas lighting fixtures which were likely active for the sake of the workers who were now bolting down what appeared to be a destroyed GEAR. In her hands appeared to be a tablet, standard issue for any GEAR pilot who signed on with Landren's GEAR division, although her's appeared to be one of the newer models. She raised it in front of her, the screen casting a slight glow against her features as she read the progress of her GEAR's transition which of course was handled expertly without any cause for concern. Though she really couldn't help but observe it as it was just one of her many obsessive compulsive behaviors she'd learned to accept throughout her career, even though they were minor at best.

She wore the usual attire for a Landren officer, although unlike allot of the female officers within the forces she appeared to present herself with a degree of femininity through adaptions in the uniform. For example she wore a thick turtleneck sweater which held the Landren Special Ops Insignia on the sleeve which held firmly to her figure, accompanied by grey assault pants and black standard issue boots which had also been adapted in length and size in order to fit her comfortably, of course an appropriate sized hole had also been fitted on the pants in order to make way for her tail which elegantly curled towards her rear. All in all it appeared Lilly presented herself with neat discipline in both her uniform presentation and the way she stood, of course this would be confirmed when Stirling approached her, the red fox's ear turning in their direction before her head turned in their direction.

With precision she gave a salute as she brought her legs together, raising her hand towards her head after she introduced herself. She replied with a soft "Ma'am" before easing when the captain motioned for a lighter introduction. "Thank you captain, I'm glad I can be here" she said before turning her attention towards the Wolverine. He was certainly handsome, older and appeared to carry himself well with a suggested level of experience that portrayed in the way he moved. One might have wondered how she could have noted such traits from a meeting of merely a minute, but it was one of her gifts to see past what was immediately obvious. Her ear flickered as her eyes gently observed him for a moment, eventually replying with her own introduction, "Nice to meet you Rolen. I'm Lilly, but people usually call me Tilly" she said with a soft smile as she held out her hand towards the wolverine.

Halfway through the shake her smile would fade as she took on a more serious expression which held a small degree of empathy, "I'd like to make it clear though, I'm not here to replace anyone or step in anyone's shoes. I'm just here to do a job" she said, giving him a more intent look through her eyes before she softened back to a smile, her hand returning to her side. She knew the reason why she was called here and wanted him to know she had no intention of stepping on wounds that he would probably need some time to heal. She'd lost a few friends along the way too, one of which went as far back as basic training. But it was an unfortunate part of their line of work which they had to deal with and although she'll always hold their memory close to her, she would move on and continue to be the best she can be.

[Rhona W]

Ro was pleased and surprised by the younger vixens' firm handshake, and more so when, after introducing herself she read his expression and demeanour precisely and made her assertion about the role she was taking on.
Embarassed all at once about his reservations toward her, the wolverines' expression fell and he felt a twinge of shame.
"Of course," he said sheepishly after a moment, and with a somewhat awkward smile. "I'm sure that you'll do a lot more than 'just' a job as well," he added. "If you've come here in the first place, then you know some of what you're in for, and how tight-knit these units can get... I apologize if I didn't make you feel welcome. Please, let me show you to your room and around the 'cruiser to make it up to you, won't you?" he added, trying to lighten the mood. Captain Stirling nodded in acceptance of the idea, the mare folding her arms.
"I'll stay here and supervise the GEAR loading and stowing into the bay - though, that's a generous name - while R.R. shows you around. Welcome aboard, Tilly".
Ro turned and gestured toward the personnel hatch into the Wandering Promise. The fog was still heavy in the air, and the light spilling from inside the landcruiser had a welcoming look.

[Winter]

Tilly was pleased that the Wolverine understood and acknowledge what she'd meant, offering to show her around the cruiser as a way of making up the introduction to her, not that she thought his introduction was lacking. She was expecting some reluctance after he'd lost his partner, after all she would have been the same if she was being honest. "That'd be nice, thank you" she replied after he offered to show her around, politely thanking the captain for her welcome before following Ro towards the Wandering Promise. She was a little nervous for all the changes that she'd be adjusting too over the next few days and partly also because of meeting new people. But she was also looking forwards to being back on the field where she could apply her skills once more. As she walked towards the entrance to the cruiser she decided to strike up some conversation, "So, how long have you been in service?" she asked curiously as she walked next to him, glancing up to her side slightly before looking ahead again.

[Rhona W]

Ro smiled over his shoulder at the vixen as he lead her into the interior of the landcruiser.
Like all such vessels, be they land-based or ocean-going, space was at a harsh premium, and piping, ducts, cabling and all manner of junction boxes, fuses and other such systemry clustered along the walls and ceilings. Every so often there was the necessity to step over hatch-lips and rims as well, passing through heavy pressure-doors between hull frames.
Hearing her question, the Wolverines' small ears twitched before he replied.
"Give or take, I've been in the service for about, oh, twelve years, nearly." He looked surprised at himself for a moment, shaking his head as he paused by a ladder. "Wow, that's much longer than even I thought. But, naturally, it wasn't always with Special Operations. Most of it was in the regular forces instead. Anyhow, regarding the tour: This is the lowest level of the ship. Down here is primarily where all of the sundries are stored - everything useful, but non-explosive or non-critical. Food supplies, laundry, equipment lockers, water tanks, yadda yadda. You probably won't have to come down here much - other than to get on or off the ship on foot, anyway.
Taking her up the steeply-angled steps - almost a ladder, really - he explained the next level was mostly the cramped crew facilities. The mess and galley, which also served as the communal rec-room for the twenty-person crew; the infirmary - such as it was, and more of a medical 'room' - a few equipment lockers and storage spaces - including weapons lockers - and the washroom facilities. Which, he added, were actually much better than most of the military ones he'd encountered. And had very, very good locks on the doors. At the forward area of this level were also the GEAR and salvage bay, workshop area and other 'functional' areas of the ship, as well as the 'deck' area, where large objects or vehicles could be loaded and unloaded, and also where the crane was mounted. He also advised that discreet disguised 'clutter' on the deck folded away to reveal two large-calibre chainguns that formed the ships' only real defensive armament.
Finally, above and at the top of the ship, were the bridge, observation lounge, briefing room and a few other related areas, as well as the bridge 'wings' for observation purposes. Lockers on this level also held machine-guns to be mounted when needed on the rails around the bridge wings.
The tour concluded, the pair stood on one of the bridge wings, overlooking the fog-shrouded city.
"So, how about you?" he said in reply with a slight smile. "Appearances can be deceptive, of course, but I'd say I've got a few years on you. And, if it's not too much of a prying question, why Special Operations? This isn't exactly the fast-track to promotions, or a good career for anyone. Though, it's not without it's own rewards, of course".
He leaned against the railing, glancing over one shoulder at the quiet city, the gleam of the ocean subdued by the fog, and the noises of life hushed by the cotton-wool covering, before looking back to the vixen with an appraising expression and a half-smile on his muzzle.