Post by ender on Feb 6, 2010 7:18:03 GMT -5
It had only been a few hours since the complete destruction of New Amsterdam. The icy road was clear, and a serious blow had been dealt to the Federation. The weapon from the SS had truly shown the might of the power of Zeon, a massive Fire For Effect laid down ontop of the Earth, scarring her forever like a wrathful finger of God.
Yet the Warmonger was not pleased. Even after the return to the Decimator, the way the Xamel had been completely rendered ineffective in it's main combat role by that insidious Federation mobile suit had left a sour taste in Alec's mouth. But it didn't matter, in the end. Zeon had Prevailed.
But the battle had ended far too quickly for the Battle Lusting Warmonger. How could such a decisive blow leave such a distaste, he wondered. His face was covered by his hand, soothing away the beginnings of a headache that had formed, a reaction to being so close to proximity of the destruction and the light.
It was like looking directly into the sun, and paying for it dearly. He had been lucky, both from not being caught in the blast, and by not being destroyed by that Federation mobile suit's bazooka rounds, the shells hitting the howitzer and the missiles could have easily damaged the ammunition and casued a massive explosion, but the strike was too surgical, to precise. He hated to do it, but he had to give credit to the Federation machine and pilot.
A smirk appeared on his face at the thought. What good did that suit really accomplish, when the mission had been completed? It had focused too much on distracting the flamboyant commander in his specialized Zaku, as well as on his own unit and the large Hidolfr. Perhaps that's where the real luck was, that such a machine was not able to deal with the orbital drop that made the attack such a resounding success.
But the battle was still over, and Alec was anxious. How long until he could find the next battle? How long would it be until he could rain fire upon the Federation, in complete and total warfare. To watch the world burn from the mono-eye of the behemoth Machine-Of-War that he rode into battle.
"Sir? You alright in there?" The voice of Sascha Kratikoff pierced the silence of his musings, awakening to the reality of being once again aboard the Decimator, the rear hangar reserved specifically for the Unit abuzz with maintenance crews already working to repair the damaged weapons and hull.
"Yes, Corporal, I am. Problems?" His response was still in his battle thought, curt, short, without wasting any necessary emotion or breath. He knew it wasn't exactly personable, but war was not a personable business.
Her silence lasted a few moments longer than normal, as if perturbed by her commanders choice of words. "We've already started moving out, just thought you should know. Coming out anytime soon?" She sounded concerned, and it almost confused Alec, until he remembered that this was Kratikoff he was thinking about. Despite everything, her gruff demeanor with the other mechanics and crewmembers of the Decimator, she was more empathetic, more compassionate with everyone than she let on. If he were any other man, he'd probably not have noticed it.
But he was a man who knew how soldiers operated, and how men handled themselves in battle, as well as how, when placed in command of either a crew or a ship, those with the qualities best suited to managing the small group of crewmembers would show a more human side. A more humane side.
A side he could ill afford in battle but one he valued in those under his command. Especially those in charge of making sure his Machine was ready to go, both in repair, and in the quality of it's pilot.
"Yes, Corporal. I'll be right out. Care to join me for coffee in the mess?" He was as surprised as she was that he had asked her for a drink. Normally he kept to himself, distant from the rest of the crew, but maybe it was coming so close to an angry finger of God, and the near miss from the enemy weapons that caused him to ask.
Or maybe it was because she was good company, and that even with a slight distraction of coffee, she would soon be back in the hangar, making sure the mechanics got the repairs done as quickly as possible. Her abilities at doing so sometimes even surprised him, with how quickly she accomplished tasks that would take others weeks to accomplish.
"... Sergeant. I have work to do." And her response caused him to smile even more. A true Soldier, just like him.
Yet the Warmonger was not pleased. Even after the return to the Decimator, the way the Xamel had been completely rendered ineffective in it's main combat role by that insidious Federation mobile suit had left a sour taste in Alec's mouth. But it didn't matter, in the end. Zeon had Prevailed.
But the battle had ended far too quickly for the Battle Lusting Warmonger. How could such a decisive blow leave such a distaste, he wondered. His face was covered by his hand, soothing away the beginnings of a headache that had formed, a reaction to being so close to proximity of the destruction and the light.
It was like looking directly into the sun, and paying for it dearly. He had been lucky, both from not being caught in the blast, and by not being destroyed by that Federation mobile suit's bazooka rounds, the shells hitting the howitzer and the missiles could have easily damaged the ammunition and casued a massive explosion, but the strike was too surgical, to precise. He hated to do it, but he had to give credit to the Federation machine and pilot.
A smirk appeared on his face at the thought. What good did that suit really accomplish, when the mission had been completed? It had focused too much on distracting the flamboyant commander in his specialized Zaku, as well as on his own unit and the large Hidolfr. Perhaps that's where the real luck was, that such a machine was not able to deal with the orbital drop that made the attack such a resounding success.
But the battle was still over, and Alec was anxious. How long until he could find the next battle? How long would it be until he could rain fire upon the Federation, in complete and total warfare. To watch the world burn from the mono-eye of the behemoth Machine-Of-War that he rode into battle.
"Sir? You alright in there?" The voice of Sascha Kratikoff pierced the silence of his musings, awakening to the reality of being once again aboard the Decimator, the rear hangar reserved specifically for the Unit abuzz with maintenance crews already working to repair the damaged weapons and hull.
"Yes, Corporal, I am. Problems?" His response was still in his battle thought, curt, short, without wasting any necessary emotion or breath. He knew it wasn't exactly personable, but war was not a personable business.
Her silence lasted a few moments longer than normal, as if perturbed by her commanders choice of words. "We've already started moving out, just thought you should know. Coming out anytime soon?" She sounded concerned, and it almost confused Alec, until he remembered that this was Kratikoff he was thinking about. Despite everything, her gruff demeanor with the other mechanics and crewmembers of the Decimator, she was more empathetic, more compassionate with everyone than she let on. If he were any other man, he'd probably not have noticed it.
But he was a man who knew how soldiers operated, and how men handled themselves in battle, as well as how, when placed in command of either a crew or a ship, those with the qualities best suited to managing the small group of crewmembers would show a more human side. A more humane side.
A side he could ill afford in battle but one he valued in those under his command. Especially those in charge of making sure his Machine was ready to go, both in repair, and in the quality of it's pilot.
"Yes, Corporal. I'll be right out. Care to join me for coffee in the mess?" He was as surprised as she was that he had asked her for a drink. Normally he kept to himself, distant from the rest of the crew, but maybe it was coming so close to an angry finger of God, and the near miss from the enemy weapons that caused him to ask.
Or maybe it was because she was good company, and that even with a slight distraction of coffee, she would soon be back in the hangar, making sure the mechanics got the repairs done as quickly as possible. Her abilities at doing so sometimes even surprised him, with how quickly she accomplished tasks that would take others weeks to accomplish.
"... Sergeant. I have work to do." And her response caused him to smile even more. A true Soldier, just like him.