Post by ender on Jan 14, 2010 13:17:26 GMT -5
The first steps on California Base were small, leather bootheel just clicking down to feel the ground underneath him as he steps off the transport. He crouches, hands being placed on the ground, feeling the dust on the runway as he looks around, taking a handful up, and spreading it in the air.
He ignores the hustle and bustle of the base, walking straight from the causeway of the transport to the hangar bay, hearing the familiar sounds of a mobile suit being unloaded. The sun was beating down on his brow, as he looked around.
"So, this is California Base..." He mutters under his breath, a slight English accent to his voice as he watches the base, The direct HQ of the TAF, under direct command of Garma Zabi. It seems like this would be the perfect place for him, to report directly to the Supreme Commander of the Earth forces.
Of course, that's if the history of his family didn't follow him. He shook his head, getting the thought of his Grandfather's service in the Federation Navy out of his mind, as he walked about the base. Mobile suits were everywhere, either practicing drills, or running the CAP. Executions in perfect discipline. This was the front line. Where he belonged. A chance to show just the kind of perfect soldier he was.
Without the abilities of the rumored "newtypes" that Zeon Zum Daikun had spoken of. Irusk didn't believe in the need of psychic warfare. Maybe it was all just rumors spread to keep the Earth Sphere in terror. A smile crossed his lips as he thought of that. Demoralize the enemy, and then follow it up with brutal and efficient strikes.
"Sir, welcome to California. I'm your new chief mechanic, Sascha Kratikoff." He looked at the woman who approached him, her eyes somber as she saluted. "I've been re-assigned to you for your operations."
He wonders why she seems so sullen. They're taking the fight to Earth, to defeat the Earthenoid and to prove the supremacy of the Colonies, and why no Gravity-Bound politician can rule over them. The fighting has been going well, even with the losses suffered during the assault on the Trojan Horse. "Pleasure to meet you, Sergeant. I trust that you'll take care of my Xamel, I expect it to perform admirably in combat, and I require that it always be in top form. Do not disappoint me."
Polite but impersonal, that's the way he handles the situation. He glances back up at the suit as it's finished being unloaded from the transport, sun glistening off of the large bore of the artillery cannon. Kratikoff salutes again, walking off to direct the mechanics on the base to finish the unloaded, but he continues undeterred. It's as if he's getting his bearings, feeling the rotation of the Earth beneath his feet, letting the air flow through him.
So different from the academy, from life on the Colonies. A beautiful jewel, that unfortunately was in the hands of the Federal Forces. It reminds him of a vacation he went on with a girl once, so long ago, before the academy.
"She would have liked it here, I'm sure of it." More whispers under his breath as he starts moving again, to another spot away from the runway, crouching again as he lets his hands moves over the ground, fingertips digging into the dirt and earth, just feeling the way the soil feels, and then looking back up at the Xamel.
"She'll do very well here, yes. I can feel it."
He ignores the hustle and bustle of the base, walking straight from the causeway of the transport to the hangar bay, hearing the familiar sounds of a mobile suit being unloaded. The sun was beating down on his brow, as he looked around.
"So, this is California Base..." He mutters under his breath, a slight English accent to his voice as he watches the base, The direct HQ of the TAF, under direct command of Garma Zabi. It seems like this would be the perfect place for him, to report directly to the Supreme Commander of the Earth forces.
Of course, that's if the history of his family didn't follow him. He shook his head, getting the thought of his Grandfather's service in the Federation Navy out of his mind, as he walked about the base. Mobile suits were everywhere, either practicing drills, or running the CAP. Executions in perfect discipline. This was the front line. Where he belonged. A chance to show just the kind of perfect soldier he was.
Without the abilities of the rumored "newtypes" that Zeon Zum Daikun had spoken of. Irusk didn't believe in the need of psychic warfare. Maybe it was all just rumors spread to keep the Earth Sphere in terror. A smile crossed his lips as he thought of that. Demoralize the enemy, and then follow it up with brutal and efficient strikes.
"Sir, welcome to California. I'm your new chief mechanic, Sascha Kratikoff." He looked at the woman who approached him, her eyes somber as she saluted. "I've been re-assigned to you for your operations."
He wonders why she seems so sullen. They're taking the fight to Earth, to defeat the Earthenoid and to prove the supremacy of the Colonies, and why no Gravity-Bound politician can rule over them. The fighting has been going well, even with the losses suffered during the assault on the Trojan Horse. "Pleasure to meet you, Sergeant. I trust that you'll take care of my Xamel, I expect it to perform admirably in combat, and I require that it always be in top form. Do not disappoint me."
Polite but impersonal, that's the way he handles the situation. He glances back up at the suit as it's finished being unloaded from the transport, sun glistening off of the large bore of the artillery cannon. Kratikoff salutes again, walking off to direct the mechanics on the base to finish the unloaded, but he continues undeterred. It's as if he's getting his bearings, feeling the rotation of the Earth beneath his feet, letting the air flow through him.
So different from the academy, from life on the Colonies. A beautiful jewel, that unfortunately was in the hands of the Federal Forces. It reminds him of a vacation he went on with a girl once, so long ago, before the academy.
"She would have liked it here, I'm sure of it." More whispers under his breath as he starts moving again, to another spot away from the runway, crouching again as he lets his hands moves over the ground, fingertips digging into the dirt and earth, just feeling the way the soil feels, and then looking back up at the Xamel.
"She'll do very well here, yes. I can feel it."