Post by Threid on Mar 9, 2010 4:12:10 GMT -5
It's so shiny. Kyle tore his starry-eyed gaze from his Gundam to recheck the papers detailing the repairs and upgrades. Upgrades! And just when I thought I was out of the ogling phase! At first, Kyle had been worried. After the assault on Constantinople, his Gundam had been in pretty poor shape; stray beam spray fire had riddled the luna titanium armor plates, and the small arm shield was a hopelessly misshapen mass of melted metal.
It wasn't like he'd been reckless; the fog was too thick, and with so many blind shots being fired, it was all he could to do keep the ridiculously awesome-looking pink beams away from his suit's vital systems. It had been an interesting, difficult fight, but Kyle would never forget the way the bright streaks lanced through the fog. I'll have to write to Nora about that later.
He had almost prayed as his broken Gundam made its way back to base. The mechanics had frowned as Kyle's RX-79[G] had staggered into the hangar bay. He understood why; replacement parts were in short supply, and mechanics didn't particularly like jury-rigging fixes with generic armor and electronics. Exhausted, he'd hit the hay early, planning to help with repairs in the morning with a clearer head. If there was going to be jury-rigging, the least he could do was make sure things were done right.
But when he'd arrived in the morning, the mechanics had been smiling. Before he'd had a chance to ask why, Madelaine had slapped him heartily on the back and thrust a clipboard into his chest. "Looks like you got lucky: An upgrade, an' you ain't even been here a month!" He read the title aloud - "RX-79[G]Ez-8" - and then began devouring the papers detailing the upgrade: improved acceleration, speed, reactor power output, and a brand new head-mounted machine-gun, in addition to a replacement chest-mounted anti-infantry vulcan machine gun. The armor plating had also been re-organized to maximize efficiency in movement and protection of vital systems. It was almost overwhelming.
He was only disappointed by the fact that he hadn't been able to help put it together so far. He threw himself into the repairs and accompanying upgrade with an eagerness that surprised no one. The Mini Nova Sky was the same Gundam, but improved, and Kyle appreciated its new parts almost as much as the whole. But the pièce de résistance, as far as Kyle was concerned, was a gift from Madelaine: a replacement headset, as modern as they got, sans the savage foam covering that he had loathed ever since his first battle.
There were still pieces of Gundam strewn about the hangar when Kyle climbed into the cockpit. It was definitely the same old Gundam he was used to, plus a few extra buttons - definitely still comfortable. He rested his hands on the controls. The reactor was being replaced - "Mini's heart transplant," he called it - but the soul of the Gundam was still the same. Odessa loomed, and Kyle was ready.
Madelaine smirked as Kyle mooned over his "new" mobile suit. Like a kid getting a puppy for Christmas - or a puppy getting a kid for Christmas, is more like it. Her smirk turned to a grin, and she leaned over the lift's railing to adjust the new Ap-A forearm shield. It hadn't been too difficult to get the upgrade approved; she'd made a few friends during her years as a mechanic and most of the upgrade components were spare parts for other machines, anyway.
It was almost more of a retrofit than an upgrade, but the young corporal was likely too dazzled to care. She'd introduced it as an upgrade on purpose. The corporal cared for his machine. Some other pilots saw their mobile suits as little more than tools - to be fixed or replaced as necessary - but for corporal Slater, the mobile suit was much more; he lived and breathed his Gundam. When he left it in the hangar for repairs, it was more like a parent leaving a child with babysitters than a pilot parking a machine.
Madelaine respected the connection the corporal had with his machine; it was healthy, as long it wasn't carried to far. Though Kyle certainly had his head in the clouds some of the time, he also seemed to value communication with his fellow humans. And if he was a lot better at handling his mobile suit than conversations, it was probably mostly because he'd had more practice with the former.
She watched him settle into the cockpit with his new headset - the icing on the cake, she thought - and a fair trade for not having to listen to his ridiculous complaints about how "savage" his foam microphone was. Corporal Slater cradled the controls and took a slow, deep breath. "A chick in its nest," she mumbled softly, finally taking the lift down and trotting back to her own trusty GM. There were a few armor panels that had yet to be replaced. And I'll be Gun-damned if I let a new machine distract me from what needs to be done. Still, she couldn't resist a glance back at Kyle and his Mini - he'd let the name slip out almost by accident - before grabbing a laser torch. She slapped the face shield down to cover a wry smile. Gundamnit! I'm too old to be jealous!
It wasn't like he'd been reckless; the fog was too thick, and with so many blind shots being fired, it was all he could to do keep the ridiculously awesome-looking pink beams away from his suit's vital systems. It had been an interesting, difficult fight, but Kyle would never forget the way the bright streaks lanced through the fog. I'll have to write to Nora about that later.
He had almost prayed as his broken Gundam made its way back to base. The mechanics had frowned as Kyle's RX-79[G] had staggered into the hangar bay. He understood why; replacement parts were in short supply, and mechanics didn't particularly like jury-rigging fixes with generic armor and electronics. Exhausted, he'd hit the hay early, planning to help with repairs in the morning with a clearer head. If there was going to be jury-rigging, the least he could do was make sure things were done right.
But when he'd arrived in the morning, the mechanics had been smiling. Before he'd had a chance to ask why, Madelaine had slapped him heartily on the back and thrust a clipboard into his chest. "Looks like you got lucky: An upgrade, an' you ain't even been here a month!" He read the title aloud - "RX-79[G]Ez-8" - and then began devouring the papers detailing the upgrade: improved acceleration, speed, reactor power output, and a brand new head-mounted machine-gun, in addition to a replacement chest-mounted anti-infantry vulcan machine gun. The armor plating had also been re-organized to maximize efficiency in movement and protection of vital systems. It was almost overwhelming.
He was only disappointed by the fact that he hadn't been able to help put it together so far. He threw himself into the repairs and accompanying upgrade with an eagerness that surprised no one. The Mini Nova Sky was the same Gundam, but improved, and Kyle appreciated its new parts almost as much as the whole. But the pièce de résistance, as far as Kyle was concerned, was a gift from Madelaine: a replacement headset, as modern as they got, sans the savage foam covering that he had loathed ever since his first battle.
There were still pieces of Gundam strewn about the hangar when Kyle climbed into the cockpit. It was definitely the same old Gundam he was used to, plus a few extra buttons - definitely still comfortable. He rested his hands on the controls. The reactor was being replaced - "Mini's heart transplant," he called it - but the soul of the Gundam was still the same. Odessa loomed, and Kyle was ready.
~
Madelaine smirked as Kyle mooned over his "new" mobile suit. Like a kid getting a puppy for Christmas - or a puppy getting a kid for Christmas, is more like it. Her smirk turned to a grin, and she leaned over the lift's railing to adjust the new Ap-A forearm shield. It hadn't been too difficult to get the upgrade approved; she'd made a few friends during her years as a mechanic and most of the upgrade components were spare parts for other machines, anyway.
It was almost more of a retrofit than an upgrade, but the young corporal was likely too dazzled to care. She'd introduced it as an upgrade on purpose. The corporal cared for his machine. Some other pilots saw their mobile suits as little more than tools - to be fixed or replaced as necessary - but for corporal Slater, the mobile suit was much more; he lived and breathed his Gundam. When he left it in the hangar for repairs, it was more like a parent leaving a child with babysitters than a pilot parking a machine.
Madelaine respected the connection the corporal had with his machine; it was healthy, as long it wasn't carried to far. Though Kyle certainly had his head in the clouds some of the time, he also seemed to value communication with his fellow humans. And if he was a lot better at handling his mobile suit than conversations, it was probably mostly because he'd had more practice with the former.
She watched him settle into the cockpit with his new headset - the icing on the cake, she thought - and a fair trade for not having to listen to his ridiculous complaints about how "savage" his foam microphone was. Corporal Slater cradled the controls and took a slow, deep breath. "A chick in its nest," she mumbled softly, finally taking the lift down and trotting back to her own trusty GM. There were a few armor panels that had yet to be replaced. And I'll be Gun-damned if I let a new machine distract me from what needs to be done. Still, she couldn't resist a glance back at Kyle and his Mini - he'd let the name slip out almost by accident - before grabbing a laser torch. She slapped the face shield down to cover a wry smile. Gundamnit! I'm too old to be jealous!