Post by zerodash0 on Oct 6, 2011 2:37:33 GMT -5
October 14, UC0083, mid-day
West Australia Coast
The fog had long since cleared over the battered shoreline. Crewmen worked hastily to repair what they could in the field, rushing to make the Gale Fleet combat worthy before their commanders picked up the trail of the enemy. Rem's Powered GM had it worse than the other surviving units, and attaching a replacement arm takes time.
Needless to say Rem felt he had some time to kill, and as he wandered over to the Albion, he spied just who he'd like to spend it with. Rocz seemed busy with another lecture from Mora, so maybe this time there wouldn't be any interruptions. As little trouble as he had last time, Rem couldn't help but feel a little nervous considering how that night turned out. Even still, he cleared his throat and jovially began "Hey Molly!" but his words were cut short by an announcement from the bridge, and within moments everyone was scrambling to their duty stations, and she was gone.
Dropping lazily back into the pilot seat of his Mobile Suit, Rem fired up the still beat-up machine and hesitated to close the cockpit as a mechanic nearly jumped inside.
"The arm's on, but we didn't have time to calibrate it!" He shouted over the roar of Medea engines and Albion's Minovsky Craft System. "Here's the repair manual, I've circled the parts you need to do, nothing too technical. You won't need any special tools either, just takes time. You can do it on the move though, so long as you get the numbers right."
Before Rem could protest, he found a phone-book sized manual tossed in his lap, with no less than thirty pages of instructions highlighted and a note that translated some of the information into layman's terms. As his Powered GM stood, the unmistakable sound of aircraft overhead signaled his fate. He'd missed his ride. Switching on the radio, he called out to the Yellow Brick as he chased after it.
"Hey assholes, you forgot one!" He shouted, chasing the plane as it flew out to sea, almost insultingly dropping an assault raft for him to continue his pursuit.
West Australia Coast
The fog had long since cleared over the battered shoreline. Crewmen worked hastily to repair what they could in the field, rushing to make the Gale Fleet combat worthy before their commanders picked up the trail of the enemy. Rem's Powered GM had it worse than the other surviving units, and attaching a replacement arm takes time.
Needless to say Rem felt he had some time to kill, and as he wandered over to the Albion, he spied just who he'd like to spend it with. Rocz seemed busy with another lecture from Mora, so maybe this time there wouldn't be any interruptions. As little trouble as he had last time, Rem couldn't help but feel a little nervous considering how that night turned out. Even still, he cleared his throat and jovially began "Hey Molly!" but his words were cut short by an announcement from the bridge, and within moments everyone was scrambling to their duty stations, and she was gone.
Dropping lazily back into the pilot seat of his Mobile Suit, Rem fired up the still beat-up machine and hesitated to close the cockpit as a mechanic nearly jumped inside.
"The arm's on, but we didn't have time to calibrate it!" He shouted over the roar of Medea engines and Albion's Minovsky Craft System. "Here's the repair manual, I've circled the parts you need to do, nothing too technical. You won't need any special tools either, just takes time. You can do it on the move though, so long as you get the numbers right."
Before Rem could protest, he found a phone-book sized manual tossed in his lap, with no less than thirty pages of instructions highlighted and a note that translated some of the information into layman's terms. As his Powered GM stood, the unmistakable sound of aircraft overhead signaled his fate. He'd missed his ride. Switching on the radio, he called out to the Yellow Brick as he chased after it.
"Hey assholes, you forgot one!" He shouted, chasing the plane as it flew out to sea, almost insultingly dropping an assault raft for him to continue his pursuit.
