ENS Clint Grayson, TNS Galatia
and
LCDR Travers, Adrien
As Clint had been waiting for the briefing to begin, it seemed a veteran had seated herself beside him and offered an introduction and a smile. Clint grinned warmly at the extended hand, glad to see some semblance of friendless among a sea of otherwise hostile or disinterested faces. This was a woman after his own heart. He met the hand with one of his own and nodded in greeting.
'Pleasure to meet you Commander! I'm Ensign Grayson, fresh off the boat so to speak.' Chuckling softly at the small joke, he opened his mouth to inquire about her nickname when a man who could only be Commander Knight entered the room. As Clint watched him stride purposefully across the room he glanced around to see if he should rise or not. Nobody else did, so he relaxed back into his seat, listening intently to the instructions that followed.
As the commander relayed the situation in the Vega System, complete with a visual display, the lines on Clint's forehead creased in confusion. It seemed like the they were losing the battle, but that couldn't be right. The TSN was the strongest force in the galaxy. Sure, he had heard of setbacks here and there, but it had never seemed real until now. But, he reasoned, it surely was only temporary. Once the Galatia arrived, the tide of battle would turn and victory would be on the cards once more. The thought cheered him as he consulted his data pad to learn of his assignment.
It seemed he was to be part of Alpha Wing, under the command of LCDR Travers, the woman he had just met. A stroke of good luck, and certianly a good omen. The mission was bound to be a success, he could feel it.
Turning once more to Travers, Clint offered another easy smile, continuing the conversation in the slow drawl that suggested at his past as a farmer on a backwater colony. He spoke as if they had never been interrupted to begin with.
'Fresh off the boat and straight into your command Ma'am! You can count on me ma'am, I won't let you down. Tell me what to do and I'll get it done, I guarantee it. My folks always said I was good at following orders, said if I worked hard and did what I was told I'd be right as rain! And seeing as that's led me here, I reckon they weren't wrong about that at all, don't you think?'
Pausing for a moment, his cheeks flushed red as he realised he was perhaps talking just a little too much. 'Apologise about that Commander, sometimes my tounge runs away with me. What uh..what should we do first?'
Travers let out a small laugh at the rookie as he seemed to go on and on about his upbringing and how he could be trusted out in the vacuum to get the job done. She lifted her right hand up, waving away the Ensigns apology, "No no Grayson, don't worry about it." she said with a small snicker, "We were all just as green as you once," she reassured the boy, "Just as eager to prove our worth out there..." she trailed off at the last part for only a moment before pulling herself back to the matters at hand.
She took a look around the room, a few of the pilots were pulling themselves into groups to talk with their newly assigned wingmates and others were simply drifting through the air headed for the exit. She gave Grayson a look up and down, his uniform obviously well tended to in order to make a good impression on the wing, a shame that no one cared enough to take his effort to heart.
"Ain't no way in hell you're fitting that working uniform into a flight suit." she said as she unlatched the buckle keeping her in her seat, "You're going to need to get changed into your jumpsuit, then we can head on down to the Wolves locker room and get geared up into our flight suits. Wouldn't want fresh meat like you getting freezer burn if you've got to eject after all." she joked with the kid before giving him a tap on his shoulder and pushing off toward the door.
She floated through the door with ease behind another pilot. She caught a hand hold in the hallway and turned herself back to the briefing room, waiting for the rookie to catch up.
Clint glanced at his freshly pressed grey uniform, regretting his choice of clothes immensely, before unbuckling himself and launching himself towards the door. Managing not to spiral out of control this time, he clasped a hand hold in the hallway tightly, and watched as several other pilots floated past. Unsettling his short brown hair as he scratched his head, Clint tried to remember how exactly to get back to his room. Concious of the Commander watching him, he thought back carefully over the route he had taken to get to the briefing room. He thought he could trace his way back. Or perhaps hoped would be a better word. He never was good with directions.
Turning to the still waiting Commander Travers, he tried to project an air of confidence, not wanting to appear an idiot before the mission had even properly begun. 'It's this way, Commander..I think..'
With that, Clint floated off down the corridor, Travers following. As they navigated the dull gray environment, Clint considered trying to strike up conversation, but thought better of it. Best not to start yammering on again. After a few wrong turns, they arrived outside his room and Clint stepped inside to get changed. 'I'll just be a second Commander' he called as the door clicked into place behind him.
Reaching into the locker where his flight suit was stored, Clint was glad the ship's designers had seen fit to install artificial gravity in the rooms. He didn't much fancy his chances trying to get changed while simultaneously trying to balance himself in the air. Pulling the loose-fitting jump suit over his body, he admired the as of yet untarnished dark green colour of the suit. He hoped what the Commander said about ejection wasn't true. Giving himself one last look in the mirror before leaving, Clint reappeared in the corridor with a few short strides.
'Suited and ready Commander!' He offered a crisp salute, and then looked around as a few pilots floated past. 'Where to next?'
Tapping her fingers against the wall of the corridor, Travers couldn't help but wonder what exactly was taking Grayson so long to pull over what were essentially glorified pajamas. As she waited a few crewman passed by, offering her nods as they went that she returned.
The door hissed open to her right and out came Grayson, "At ease Grayson, no ened to salute me more than once a day." she joked as she pushed off the wall and sent herself down the corridor. "We're heading for the hangar bay, sure you've seen it before. No way you couldn't have when you got on board." she said back to Grayson as they floated down the corridor.
"Once we're there we can get into our hard suits and find our frames. From there it's simple," she spun her body slightly to allow a group to pass by heading in the opposite direction without missing on beat on her sentence, "we get the birds outfitted as we like and get ready to sortie. You ever actually flown a Seer or just in the simulations?" Travers asked as they rounded another corner, the hangar bay now only a short float away.
'Just the simulations ma'am, but I'm not half-bad in the pilot's seat, even if I do say so myelf. Course, my real speciality is the Dirk, but I should manage a Seer just fine!'
As they floated round the next corridor the hangar loomed large in front of them, stretching as far as the eye could see. Following Travers over to where their craft were apparently waiting, Clint let out a whistle of appreciation as he took in the sleek craft. 'She's a real beaut, ain't she?' Running his hand along the dark underbelly of the craft, he felt a rush of excitement run through him. This was it, he was finally here, ready to start his first mission. He was going to see the universe.
Turning to a nearby technician, he stepped over to specify his ship loadout. 'Hey there friend! Ensign Greyson, reporting for duty. My bird's looking fine as a peacock's feather, ain't she? Anyway, I'd be mighty grateful if you could fit me up with a Spitfire and Hailstorm missile, one on each side if you don't mind.' The engineer nodded and set to work, the sounds of his task only adding to the perpetual din in the cavernous hangar. Clint looked around expectantly, waiting for Travers to finish her own prep and instruct him on what came next.
Not surprised by Graysons lack of experience in more than one frame, Travers rounded the corner with the new pilot into the hangar. As much as the Galatia was a testament to just how far humanity had come, Travers saw the hangar as the true piece of wonder within the Galatia. For its cutting edge defenses and beyond comprehensible materials, the hangar bay was the most utilitarian. It was well lit. It was loud. It was dirty. It smelled of hydraulic fluid and sweat. It was the heart of the Galatia. The reason such a marvel of human engineering existed. To house the dirty innards that allowed the Galatia to strike far, fast, and hard.
In honesty she never got tired of the place. The corridors of the Galatia were well kept, cleaned regularly during sweepers and smelled only of new paint and cleaning products. But the hangar was different. Dirty and reaking of everything that allowed the Squadron to kill out in the void, it spoke of the true monstrous effort that it took to allow the Galatia to be such a force to be reckoned with, and she loved every second she spent in it just as much as she loved being in her bed.
Giving Greyson a smile she answered his question jokingly, "They are, but I prefer one of those big unruly ones over there versus one of these nimble little shits." she said pointing a thumb at a line of Redeemers being worked on.
With the comment she made her way to the Seer and began inspecting it from wing tip to wing tip, taking note of the Gattler that was already mounted at it's nose.. Satisfied that everything was in working order she motioned to the tech nearby who came jogging over, "Load her up with two Spitfire missiles and I'll be set." she said happily as the tech gaver her an aye aye and punched a few things into his pad before running toward a group of red shirts that were huddled around a craft tractor.
Turning back toward the Seer she called out to Greyson, "Get her spun up, We're going to be dropping in in the next few minutes!" she called over the noise of the hangar. With that Travers climbed up the extended ladder and eased herself into the seat. With a small amount of shuffling she placed her kitbag in its place and began to strap herself in while running the Seer through its diagnostics. The screens lit up with simple text and notices as she ran her hand past them, DTS Upload... TGP LOAD... WPN LOAD... NAV LOAD....
Her MFDs flashed at her for a few moments, the text that had been on their screens replaced by blue and black as they did so. The startup done the MFDs remained in their normal configuration, with options as to what exactly she wanted to be looking at available. With that she began the startup of the engines, the monstrous pieces of sheer power beginnning there slow crawl to what would soon be a full sprint with a whine. She looked to her right to check on Greyson and closed the canopy as she did so. The sleek top sliding into place and sealing with a hiss.
As the craft started up she pulled her helmet from her kitbag and slipped it on, clicking it into place. It lit up with all the information that the Seer was already relaying on its many screens and quickly sorted itself to her customized selection of information. She chinned a button on the helmet and opened a line to her wingmante, "Hope you're ready Grayson. Because this is about to be some real shit, we aren't in Kansas anymore." she said as the warning klaxons for influx became audible through the canopy.