Post by Ryocha on Nov 7, 2009 9:34:15 GMT -5
“Well.”
“Well?”
“We missed them.” Ferusha stated simply. She didn’t see any reason to waste her energy, but Clara was practically livid, “They’re already out over the Atlantic Ocean as a full-sized fleet. It’s not worth it to run after them, especially if we’re only one Zaku—“
“But our RAGE will bring us victory!” Clara protested, waving her arms around her face in an obscene gesture, “We’d win for sure! I mean, you’re a bitchin’ Newtype, aren’t you?”
“The higher ups don’t know that, though. If they did, I’d be stuck in Test Korps as a guinea pig.” Ferusha suppressed a shudder, but Clara didn’t get the hint.
“So? You’d get a—“
“A sketchy-looking mobile suit that uses your brain to operate its machinery.” Ferusha finished, unamused, “And I for one am never, ever going to set a foot inside one. That’s the end of that.”
“You’re no fun.” Clara pouted and crossed her arms.
“Was I ever?” Ferusha sang while walking past her mechanic, towards the edge of the road the Samson was parked along. Lagging communications this far north had impaired their ability to catch the few lonely mobile suits and tanks, whom had already formed a fleet over the course of Ferusha, Clara and their mechanic’s trip from Athens to Normandy.
Ferusha couldn’t care less, but Clara was ready to punch something. Not that it was out of the ordinary when the mechanic was thrown into a raging fit, but Ferusha was glad it wasn’t directed at her this time around.
“Hey! There’s a call from HQ! Said they want to talk to you…”
Oh, that had been the call to brighten her day up considerably. The promise of joining a fleet that had just been created? She could hardly contain her excitement as she jumped into the passenger seat of the Samson, a grin sitting on her lips like the cat who ate the canary. The mechanic driving the Samson paid no mind to her childlike excitement throughout the whole trip back down through Europe’s battle-scarred countryside.
She was told her captain was named Ando Shoji. It seemed like a good name for a captain as she was nearing Athens.
It had. Oh god, if only it had.
They lost at Malta, and Ferusha somehow hadn’t been surprised. Here she thought Clara had been rage-induced in Normandy, but Ando was down right insane. His fierce battle cries had shrieked through her headset like thunder, only without being as scary and imposing. Ferusha couldn’t bring herself to take the man seriously.
The after-effects from the battle were wearing on the mechanic crew. Clara was yelling away at a few men who were having trouble with repairing the feet. Ferusha watched the antics safely from one of the catwalks, a drink in her mouth as she leaned against the railing. There wasn’t much for her to do; maybe a few tweaks to the OS system, but she knew better than to interfere when Clara was doing her job.
Ferusha just hoped she wouldn’t have to interact with her Captain outside of meetings. There had been another pilot on this ship, hadn’t there? She’d have to find him when she had the motivation; because right now, she was bloody exhausted from all the traveling she’d done in the past week. Perhaps a nap was in order…
“Well?”
“We missed them.” Ferusha stated simply. She didn’t see any reason to waste her energy, but Clara was practically livid, “They’re already out over the Atlantic Ocean as a full-sized fleet. It’s not worth it to run after them, especially if we’re only one Zaku—“
“But our RAGE will bring us victory!” Clara protested, waving her arms around her face in an obscene gesture, “We’d win for sure! I mean, you’re a bitchin’ Newtype, aren’t you?”
“The higher ups don’t know that, though. If they did, I’d be stuck in Test Korps as a guinea pig.” Ferusha suppressed a shudder, but Clara didn’t get the hint.
“So? You’d get a—“
“A sketchy-looking mobile suit that uses your brain to operate its machinery.” Ferusha finished, unamused, “And I for one am never, ever going to set a foot inside one. That’s the end of that.”
“You’re no fun.” Clara pouted and crossed her arms.
“Was I ever?” Ferusha sang while walking past her mechanic, towards the edge of the road the Samson was parked along. Lagging communications this far north had impaired their ability to catch the few lonely mobile suits and tanks, whom had already formed a fleet over the course of Ferusha, Clara and their mechanic’s trip from Athens to Normandy.
Ferusha couldn’t care less, but Clara was ready to punch something. Not that it was out of the ordinary when the mechanic was thrown into a raging fit, but Ferusha was glad it wasn’t directed at her this time around.
“Hey! There’s a call from HQ! Said they want to talk to you…”
****************************************
Oh, that had been the call to brighten her day up considerably. The promise of joining a fleet that had just been created? She could hardly contain her excitement as she jumped into the passenger seat of the Samson, a grin sitting on her lips like the cat who ate the canary. The mechanic driving the Samson paid no mind to her childlike excitement throughout the whole trip back down through Europe’s battle-scarred countryside.
She was told her captain was named Ando Shoji. It seemed like a good name for a captain as she was nearing Athens.
It had. Oh god, if only it had.
They lost at Malta, and Ferusha somehow hadn’t been surprised. Here she thought Clara had been rage-induced in Normandy, but Ando was down right insane. His fierce battle cries had shrieked through her headset like thunder, only without being as scary and imposing. Ferusha couldn’t bring herself to take the man seriously.
The after-effects from the battle were wearing on the mechanic crew. Clara was yelling away at a few men who were having trouble with repairing the feet. Ferusha watched the antics safely from one of the catwalks, a drink in her mouth as she leaned against the railing. There wasn’t much for her to do; maybe a few tweaks to the OS system, but she knew better than to interfere when Clara was doing her job.
Ferusha just hoped she wouldn’t have to interact with her Captain outside of meetings. There had been another pilot on this ship, hadn’t there? She’d have to find him when she had the motivation; because right now, she was bloody exhausted from all the traveling she’d done in the past week. Perhaps a nap was in order…
