I shall be the one who to take the oft-reviled position of first poster! And so, Captain Kalstov shall report for briefing!
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ActRaiserTheReturned,
Master EffeX
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Longshot stood, ready as ever, in the hangar alongside the other units. It was being prepared for battle by technicians who pored over every detail of the machine, a process its pilot had no place in. Technicians checked the power output from its generators, ensured ammo feeding was seamless, that storage was properly insulated and wasn't leaking, that all the control systems responded properly and a thousand other factors. The camouflaged unit was receiving special attention from the technicians due to the rank and position of its pilot, Captain Kalstov, to ensure it responded to her standards. The Ordo Sanctus was a guerrilla force that couldn't stay in one place long, that meant recruitment wasn't often an easy thing, which meant veterans like Captain Kalstov were invaluable to the cause.
Speaking of Captain Kalstov, Aura could be found outside doing her own preparations. She was found stretching out, making sure her rifle magazines were each properly loaded and packed, and making sure her pistol and magazines were all properly stowed on the pistol belt that formed part of her flight suit. With the practiced ease of one who lived and died by it, Aura carefully inspected both weapons, occasionally mumbling to herself and adjusting the rifle's sight. After a few minutes of inspection, she was satisfied with her weapons and walked into the hangar briefly to surrender her rifle and its ammunition to one of the technicians. Wearing it would get in the way when she was piloting the suit, so it was stowed in a rack within the cockpit, ammo stored beside it, by the techs. This left Aura to prepare herself before the briefing for their upcoming mission, as every other pilot in the squadron should be doing.
Finding a secluded spot, Aura set to stretching each muscle in her body to aid her twitch responses. She stretched the muscles in her neck, shoulder, arms, hands and fingers, chest, stomach, legs, each muscle in her body was stretched to the best of her ability. Doing this took the better part of half an hour but it was worth ever second spent. She had to be sharp so she could stay alive out on the field, and she never skipped a stretch when that extra half a second of response time could be all that saved her life or one of the other pilots' lives. With that half hour gone, however, Aura had precious little time before the briefing with nothing to really spend it on.
Re-entering the hangar, Aura approached the lead tech to get a feel for the Longshot's status. Before she could even talk, he began rattling off green readings on most everything. The Ordo took good care of its Valkinai suits, what with them being so crucial to the war effort, so she expected nothing less. She managed to kill another five minutes this way before finally deciding to simply turn up to the briefing early. Making her way to the command center at a leisurely pace still had Aura present fifteen minutes early. "Oh well. You're always early for everything in the infantry." Aura mused to herself as she presented herself to the Commander, saluting and reporting "Captain Aura Kalstov, reporting as ordered ma'am!"
Speaking of Captain Kalstov, Aura could be found outside doing her own preparations. She was found stretching out, making sure her rifle magazines were each properly loaded and packed, and making sure her pistol and magazines were all properly stowed on the pistol belt that formed part of her flight suit. With the practiced ease of one who lived and died by it, Aura carefully inspected both weapons, occasionally mumbling to herself and adjusting the rifle's sight. After a few minutes of inspection, she was satisfied with her weapons and walked into the hangar briefly to surrender her rifle and its ammunition to one of the technicians. Wearing it would get in the way when she was piloting the suit, so it was stowed in a rack within the cockpit, ammo stored beside it, by the techs. This left Aura to prepare herself before the briefing for their upcoming mission, as every other pilot in the squadron should be doing.
Finding a secluded spot, Aura set to stretching each muscle in her body to aid her twitch responses. She stretched the muscles in her neck, shoulder, arms, hands and fingers, chest, stomach, legs, each muscle in her body was stretched to the best of her ability. Doing this took the better part of half an hour but it was worth ever second spent. She had to be sharp so she could stay alive out on the field, and she never skipped a stretch when that extra half a second of response time could be all that saved her life or one of the other pilots' lives. With that half hour gone, however, Aura had precious little time before the briefing with nothing to really spend it on.
Re-entering the hangar, Aura approached the lead tech to get a feel for the Longshot's status. Before she could even talk, he began rattling off green readings on most everything. The Ordo took good care of its Valkinai suits, what with them being so crucial to the war effort, so she expected nothing less. She managed to kill another five minutes this way before finally deciding to simply turn up to the briefing early. Making her way to the command center at a leisurely pace still had Aura present fifteen minutes early. "Oh well. You're always early for everything in the infantry." Aura mused to herself as she presented herself to the Commander, saluting and reporting "Captain Aura Kalstov, reporting as ordered ma'am!"
@vietmyke
Hey, thats what us FNGs are for! Getting scared by war, scarred by killing, and immediately requesting a transfer because flying with special ops out of day one is scary af!
Hey, thats what us FNGs are for! Getting scared by war, scarred by killing, and immediately requesting a transfer because flying with special ops out of day one is scary af!
@Reaper
Ok, it's semi overdue (And finished at 3 AM) but I posted!
Please don't BLAM me commissar I'm a good Guardsman I swear!
Ok, it's semi overdue (And finished at 3 AM) but I posted!
Please don't BLAM me commissar I'm a good Guardsman I swear!
Ari had carefully tended to the affairs of the Lincoln's crew as needed since the incident in the hangar. She had found some limited solace in assisting them as needed, initially she ferried supplies but soon she found herself co opted to assisting in the repair and maintenance of damaged MAS and Aerospace fighters. It turned out someone had heard she had a degree in Aerospace Engineering and figured she may be able to help with repairing the airframes, once given some on the job training. As ever, the girl once called a prodigy took to it with little issue, helping restore damaged craft to operation status. She found it helped some, working with machines, it made it easier to forget, if only for a time, the memories of shaky adrenaline rushes filling her in the cockpit, of MAS suits vanishing in a blast of plasma.
However, no amount of work could save her from the nightmares. At "night", she'd oftentimes find herself accosted by altogether unwelcome faces. The faces of enemy infantrymen and pilots, gunned down on the ground by the Astelion's eye lasers. They'd charge at her, howling for righteous vengeance, and every single time Ari would cry out, drawing her service pistol and firing, trying to hold them back. Every single time, she'd find that just as the herd began to thin, when it seemed she had hope, she'd see the gleaming visage of the Astelion above her. Its plasma cannons would heat up and fire, and she'd awake as the blast of heat wiped out the encroaching horde and the heat would wash over her. With her nightly rest thusly undone, she found she needed a project to dedicate herself to, as well as more active pastimes.
She found both in different places, thankfully for her. A pastime was found on the training deck of the Lincoln, where she practiced the infantry tactics and skills she'd learned long ago as part of training for the 101st with the aid of the Lincoln's marines. Despite her own misgivings concerning herself, she found she was at least accepted, if perhaps not welcomed, by the men and women of the Corps. She trained with their weapons and combat armor often when she'd run out of maintenance work on the pipeline, and it helped take her mind off things, to focus on something simple like the raw math for a perfect shot grouping, or the mostly harmless adrenaline of running an assault course with the Marines. It didn't help her sleep at "night", no Marines trained during her sleep cycle, but it was something to do during the "day".
During the frequent times when sleep was stolen from her by nightmares, Ari would sit up and do something productive with that degree of hers. At first, she'd called up the specs of the Astelion and began thinking of an upgrade package for her, little things like how to squeeze in an extra millimeter of armor without impacting speed or how to reduce the charge time of the cannons by one tenth of a second. However, finding those improvements didn't help, only calling her mind back to the time she spent in that very MAS, and the bloody work she'd wrought within it. Instead, then, she found herself working within untested territory for herself, trying to design a new MAS. Progress was understandably slow, of course, as designing the frame for an MAS was altogether different from designing any other Aerospace craft. However, at least progress was being made, and it gave her something to eat away at time. Perhaps one day it'd be a good enough design for submission to some such production firm to consider creation. For now, however, it was little more than a thought exercise and half-formed blueprints laying on the bunk she ostensibly slept in.
Of course, it didn't take long for the maintenance men she would work with to note her lack of sleep, or indeed the Marines she trained with either "Listen Ell-tee, you need to get sleep when you can, you'll never get enough otherwise." They'd say, or "Now listen, I know I'm no pilot, so far be it from me to judge ya, but shouldn't ya get some shut eye? Ya got bags under your eyes the size of the Lincoln!" Everytime, she'd reply with a "Thank you for your concern! I'll try to get more sleep.", and everytime she'd at least humor them by attempting to sleep, if only so she wouldn't be a liar, but the outcome was always the same.
By the time they were docking at the FEZ, it had dawned on Ari she hadn't come into contact with the rest of the squadron overly much since the hangar bay. It wasn't quite that she was consciously avoiding them but...well she didn't want to bother them. She was just The Rookie, the green-as-grass pain in their ass they didn't want to be bothered with. Astelion said as much every time he got the chance, and Ari most assuredly believed him, though she didn't want to do the asshole the service of telling him that. No, she'd just quietly remain in her proper place, assisting maintenance, training when she had the chance, and working on her project. She knew they probably didn't want to have to deal with her any more than they had to, that Maki and Gerard were likely just being polite and tactful in their kind treatment of her, or perhaps worse they treated her thusly because they believed her a child to be babysat, not a pilot or even a pain in the ass to deal with.
Yes, she was rather sure it was one or the other, and she didn't much care for either option. So, she would ensure she was there when they had to do battle, as was expected of her, but until then she'd try to remain out of sight and out of mind, at least for now. She'd also come to another resolution, that she should request a transfer out of the 7th to a different squadron. That would leave them down a machine, to be sure, but even that had to be better than babysitting a rookie. As the ship's loud speakers announced the all-clear to board the FEZ station, Ari decided it was a good time to discuss this with the Captain. As such, she went in search of her, supposing correctly she'd be near one of the vessel's airlocks. This didn't surprise her, what did surprise her was seeing Maki right beside the captain as well. Biting her lip, Ari hurriedly turned to flee from the pair before either noticed her, pulling out her 'pad to submit a request for a meeting to the captain, noting her consideration of a transfer in proper military notation, electronically, as opposed to the in-person request she'd planned. It was less ideal, to be sure, but that was alright for the moment. After all, she had the whole time they were in the FEZ to get the transfer request submitted and approved, and from there she could leave behind the Lincoln, the 7th, the Astelion, all of them before the Lincoln's next combat deployment. Perhaps they'd resent her for it, perhaps they'd be grateful, perhaps they'd not even notice until time came to deploy. No matter what though, surely they would be glad, glad to finally be free of the troublesome rookie that had plagued them since Cerol.
However, no amount of work could save her from the nightmares. At "night", she'd oftentimes find herself accosted by altogether unwelcome faces. The faces of enemy infantrymen and pilots, gunned down on the ground by the Astelion's eye lasers. They'd charge at her, howling for righteous vengeance, and every single time Ari would cry out, drawing her service pistol and firing, trying to hold them back. Every single time, she'd find that just as the herd began to thin, when it seemed she had hope, she'd see the gleaming visage of the Astelion above her. Its plasma cannons would heat up and fire, and she'd awake as the blast of heat wiped out the encroaching horde and the heat would wash over her. With her nightly rest thusly undone, she found she needed a project to dedicate herself to, as well as more active pastimes.
She found both in different places, thankfully for her. A pastime was found on the training deck of the Lincoln, where she practiced the infantry tactics and skills she'd learned long ago as part of training for the 101st with the aid of the Lincoln's marines. Despite her own misgivings concerning herself, she found she was at least accepted, if perhaps not welcomed, by the men and women of the Corps. She trained with their weapons and combat armor often when she'd run out of maintenance work on the pipeline, and it helped take her mind off things, to focus on something simple like the raw math for a perfect shot grouping, or the mostly harmless adrenaline of running an assault course with the Marines. It didn't help her sleep at "night", no Marines trained during her sleep cycle, but it was something to do during the "day".
During the frequent times when sleep was stolen from her by nightmares, Ari would sit up and do something productive with that degree of hers. At first, she'd called up the specs of the Astelion and began thinking of an upgrade package for her, little things like how to squeeze in an extra millimeter of armor without impacting speed or how to reduce the charge time of the cannons by one tenth of a second. However, finding those improvements didn't help, only calling her mind back to the time she spent in that very MAS, and the bloody work she'd wrought within it. Instead, then, she found herself working within untested territory for herself, trying to design a new MAS. Progress was understandably slow, of course, as designing the frame for an MAS was altogether different from designing any other Aerospace craft. However, at least progress was being made, and it gave her something to eat away at time. Perhaps one day it'd be a good enough design for submission to some such production firm to consider creation. For now, however, it was little more than a thought exercise and half-formed blueprints laying on the bunk she ostensibly slept in.
Of course, it didn't take long for the maintenance men she would work with to note her lack of sleep, or indeed the Marines she trained with either "Listen Ell-tee, you need to get sleep when you can, you'll never get enough otherwise." They'd say, or "Now listen, I know I'm no pilot, so far be it from me to judge ya, but shouldn't ya get some shut eye? Ya got bags under your eyes the size of the Lincoln!" Everytime, she'd reply with a "Thank you for your concern! I'll try to get more sleep.", and everytime she'd at least humor them by attempting to sleep, if only so she wouldn't be a liar, but the outcome was always the same.
By the time they were docking at the FEZ, it had dawned on Ari she hadn't come into contact with the rest of the squadron overly much since the hangar bay. It wasn't quite that she was consciously avoiding them but...well she didn't want to bother them. She was just The Rookie, the green-as-grass pain in their ass they didn't want to be bothered with. Astelion said as much every time he got the chance, and Ari most assuredly believed him, though she didn't want to do the asshole the service of telling him that. No, she'd just quietly remain in her proper place, assisting maintenance, training when she had the chance, and working on her project. She knew they probably didn't want to have to deal with her any more than they had to, that Maki and Gerard were likely just being polite and tactful in their kind treatment of her, or perhaps worse they treated her thusly because they believed her a child to be babysat, not a pilot or even a pain in the ass to deal with.
Yes, she was rather sure it was one or the other, and she didn't much care for either option. So, she would ensure she was there when they had to do battle, as was expected of her, but until then she'd try to remain out of sight and out of mind, at least for now. She'd also come to another resolution, that she should request a transfer out of the 7th to a different squadron. That would leave them down a machine, to be sure, but even that had to be better than babysitting a rookie. As the ship's loud speakers announced the all-clear to board the FEZ station, Ari decided it was a good time to discuss this with the Captain. As such, she went in search of her, supposing correctly she'd be near one of the vessel's airlocks. This didn't surprise her, what did surprise her was seeing Maki right beside the captain as well. Biting her lip, Ari hurriedly turned to flee from the pair before either noticed her, pulling out her 'pad to submit a request for a meeting to the captain, noting her consideration of a transfer in proper military notation, electronically, as opposed to the in-person request she'd planned. It was less ideal, to be sure, but that was alright for the moment. After all, she had the whole time they were in the FEZ to get the transfer request submitted and approved, and from there she could leave behind the Lincoln, the 7th, the Astelion, all of them before the Lincoln's next combat deployment. Perhaps they'd resent her for it, perhaps they'd be grateful, perhaps they'd not even notice until time came to deploy. No matter what though, surely they would be glad, glad to finally be free of the troublesome rookie that had plagued them since Cerol.
A fine origin story if ever there was one. I play 40k tabletop so I can appreciate a Commissar on the side of the UNF
@Valor
So you are the man bringing Commissar Yarrick to face me are you!
That's fine, All-A will take on the lot of ya!!
So you are the man bringing Commissar Yarrick to face me are you!
That's fine, All-A will take on the lot of ya!!
If this is anything like 40k it rhymes with BLAM but I'll remain hopeful@Reaper
@Marquise
So you admit the UNF is made up, not of people seeking freedom and justice, but terrorists?!
@POOHEAD189
Together we shall rid this world of corruption.
So you admit the UNF is made up, not of people seeking freedom and justice, but terrorists?!
@POOHEAD189
Together we shall rid this world of corruption.
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