Binding: Rain - Chronicles 改 (Defunct)

Chapter Three Part Four | Back to basics

Chapter 3 Part 4 | Back to basics

　You don't just 'pilot' a Gleipnir

　You must understand it

　Feel it

　Zhaojun, having finished orientating herself with her new uniform, begins to neatly pack away her old one into the box. Piece by piece. It will take her some time to get accustomed to it, but she is sure it won't cause any issues. Sounds of the locker room door catches her attention. Peering over her shoulder, she see Yato walking into the room, holding a similar looking box. Immediately noticing Zhaojun's presence, Yato gives a friendly smile.

　Placing it atop the bench aside Zhaojun's, "Is that the new uniform?" Yato already knew the answer, as she often sees operators, but it's a polite way to greet Zhaojun, she thinks.

　Giving a momentary glance down at herself, Zhaojun nods, folding the tabs of her box closed and running her hand slightly across its surface. She turns to the 1st Lieutenant, considering leaving. Already dressed and equipped, there is no substantial reason for her to remain. However, perhaps she could remain longer.

　A smile still painted on her face, Yato begins to open her own. Operator uniform showing. Expect for hers, considering she is an officer, has some notable differences. Insignia of her respective rank, and a officer cap. "It certainly is... white." Looking to her. "Isn't it, Zhaojun?" Yato pulls the clothes and other accessories out, laying them down upon the bench.

　Zhaojun only nods in return, again, while Yato undresses herself. Fluorescent lights starkly illuminate the room, giving view to Yato's body slowly being revealed. "White skin, Lieutenant." She allows her stare to be apparent. She finds nothing strange with staring at another woman.

　"Eep.." A light blush comes across her cheeks. Why would Zhaojun, who speaks rarely, say that to her? "Um... I suppose I do?" Yato begins to dress notably faster, sliding each item on hastily. The trainee watches on seemingly aimlessly.

　Uniformed, Yato spins to face her. She sets the white officer cap on her head, adjusting it to sit snuggly. Still flustered to a degree, Yato clears her throat. "Ahem... We should head to the western Gleipnir Dock, Zhaojun. We shouldn't keep the Captain waiting."

　A nod in return, trainee Zhaojun lifts her box and leads the way out. Yato following suit. The two deposit their now unneeded items into Warrant Officer Tsuki's care, and start their way through the subterranean structure. Everywhere at the Tsuiki Installation is busy, here no exception. Tubular tunnels bustle with servicemen of different branches. Officers, NCOs, general enlisted, going about their duties. Being large enough to accommodate some vehicles, light armoured cars also meander down passageways, mostly belonging to military police and logistical operations.

　Here, grey reinforced concrete, exposed pipes and overhead electrical cables dominate the large tunnels. Duller white lamps give life to each section. Ventilation equipment occasionally making itself known.

　"Come here often, Zhaojun?" The Lieutenant questions, walking alongside her squad mate. Their white uniforms implying their positions as Gleipnir frame operators, catches the attention of many who pass by.

　Simply gazing at Yato from her peripherals, Zhaojun shrugs. She goes where she needs, and where she is ordered to. It is beside her how often she travels to places, only what she does there.

　Yato maintains a friendly demeaner, subconsciously matching Zhoajun's footsteps. Walking in sync as if marching. She looks back to her front, quickly thinking about the nearest Maglev station. "I do. I'm all over the base. That's if you count the southern districts as the whole base." Quietly giggling she adjusts her officer cap, fixing her bangs.

　She gives no response. Instead she just watches Yato with a hint of curiosity. She doesn't understand why her 1st Lieutenant is essentially speaking to herself. However, her voice is enjoyable, so she has no qualms with her persistent speaking. For now.

　The two operators step aside, allowing a MP vehicle to pass by. Their eyes meeting with those of the military police inside. Then continuing behind, the armoured car's taillights slowly advancing away from them. "Why do you think those MPs are everywhere? I see them every place I go. Always in groups." Yato keeps her view on the leaving LAV. As is usual, Zhaojun doesn't give a response. Yato expects this, speaking for the sake of filling a silence.

　Minutes of walking later, they find themselves upon the edge of the Maglev station. Standing just behind the yellow line painted, joined by groups of other soldiers. A insignificant amount of time later, the underground Maglev appears out it's tunnel, halting patiently at the platform.

　Captain Shigure, seemingly plagued permanently by boring and uninteresting tasks, awaits the arrive of his squad at the western Gleipnir dock. In the command room of it's hanger. It's as menial as ever, just officers of varying ranks seated at various instruments and control panels. The only thing of potential interest is the hanger itself. Housing numerous Gleipnir frames of different times; newer and older models mixed together.

　He paces over to the window, viewing the Marshalls and other members of the Gleipnir Mechanized Regiment. Unlike what the others are currently doing, he is remaining in his 'old' uniform. Though, his position as an administrative officer doesn't give him a special uniform. Instead, he wears the same a Captain of the Japanese Ground Forces would wear. Just greys. The same applies to other administrative officers inside the command room.

　The hanger provides Shigure with no stimulation, he has seen it more times than he can count. Dull architecture gives no assistance in occupying his mind. He's sick of just doing paperwork, but it's all he can think of. Spinning slowly, he elects to stare at some officers moving about their stations. They type away, speak through headsets, reference maps. Others seem more occupied with logistical and maintenance duties; reviewing charts and documents. Shigure is somewhat grateful, thankfully he isn't instructed to slave away at computers.

　Training, that's what the military wants of him. Train newer units to be fit for combat. His talent and skill is wasted being a desk jockey, though sometimes he feels just as one. Before his irritation festers, the sliding bulkheads to the command room slip open. Yato and Zhaojun, dressed in their white operator garb step through the threshold. Finding their position forward of Shigure and saluting their superior.

　"Reporting, Captain." Yato states, her salute loose and friendly. Opposite to Zhaojun's strictly professional gesture.

　Shigure brings his hand to his forehead then lets it fall, no bothering to give an actual salute. They lower their hands in return, both staring expectantly at the Captain. Looking past them, over their shoulders, he assumes he will see the other three. Though he does not. Closing his eyes and sighing, "The others?".

　Yato shrugs and glances behind her. "I don't know Captain. I left them on the tarmac. I haven't seen them since." She turns back to Shigure, her head tilted.

　The Captain drags his hand across his face, somewhat bothered. 'What's taking them so long?' he wonders to himself. Shigure pats his pockets and starts towards a nearby door. "Follow. Last come last served."

　Tracing behind in his steps, walking adjacent to the window. Through the door they descend some flights of stairs, before finding themselves stood upon the hanger deck. Reinforced concrete and steel overhead tower above, holding up a thick ceiling. Shigure, having been in the hanger and it's counterparts many times, walks casually across the ground. Zhaojun and Yato however, struck by the sheer scale of everything nearby. Huge pillars of steel, layers of concrete, and impressive displays of architecture. Of course, the Gleipnirs themselves docked to massive metal scaffolds, locking them in place. The hanger not just a simple box to store things, but instead more so a bunker designed specifically for a handful of purposes.

　Shigure leads the duo through messes of mechanics, Marshalls, and all other sorts of soldiers who have business upon the hanger deck. He stops and spins, turning his front to the operators. Clicking his fingers and gesturing behind him. "There are ten. Choose."

　"Ten? Ten what- Oh..." Yato looks where he gestured, her question being answered. As he promised, there are in fact ten. Ten GF-Twains lined up, side by side, hydraulically locked down in their restraint cages. Their enormous height demands for Zhaojun and Yato to step back, looking up at the inanimate machines. Uniform green painted atop armour plating, dulled from insufficient lighting.

　Zhaojun, utterly shocked to see a Gleipnir stood before her, so close, can't help but question. "Are you sure these things actually move...?"

　"Yes." Shigure joins in staring up at one. Bringing memories of his operator years.

　Stood beside her, Yato places a hand upon her shoulder, giving a soft shake. "What one will you choose, Zhaojun?"

　"This one... I guess..." She points to the one just in front of her. Truthfully, the ten GF-Twains are completely identical. They had no previous owners; operators. Hence they are essentially stock. Of course, differences come with time, but nothing of note or concern for these new operators taking their reigns.

　Zhaojun lowers her hand, but not before Ichijo's voice echoes through the hanger. "We're here, Sir! Wait for us!!" Three of the now late soldiers come across, jogging lightly. Some heads turn of other soldiers, yet they return to their tasks. Ryuuji, Takeuchi, Ichijo, stop successively before Captain Shigure, saluting.

　"Reporting in, Sir." Ryuuji addresses him in stead of the rest. In his left hand, holding a hot paper cup coffee. His eyes icy as they always will be. Glasses straight.

　Acknowledging without a salute of his own, Shigure gives a scrutinizing look to the three. "You're late."

　Scoffing beneath his breath, "Without a set time, we cant be late."

　"You're late." Shigure rotates to inspect the adjacent lane of GF-Twains. "Takeuchi, Ryuuji, Ichijo. There are ten Twains. Choose one each." He nods to Zhaojun, seemingly agreeing to her selection. Shigure doesn't hate people, it's not within him to hold grudges. Nevertheless, he still becomes easily irritated by people, despite his ability to keep himself stoneface majority of the time. The three men in his squad are proving to cause him added work, of which he doesn't appreciate. Ryuuji at least is analytical and intelligent.

　Ichijo grabs onto Takeuchi, shaking him and rambling on about having a Gleipnir of their own. Takeuchi just smiles weakly, allowing him to invade his space. Ryuuji drops his saluting hand, wandering off to inspect each GF-Twain. Noticing Yato has occupied herself with Zhaojun, he decides he hasn't any reason to stick around.

　Everyone, take for Zhaojun, go about choosing their frames. They are unremarkably similar, and only Ryuuji seems to find 'differences' big enough to warrant the selecting of others. Each eventually content with their election, the five find Captain Shigure. Whom is beside the massive metal foot belonging to a GF-Twain. He runs his hand soothingly across the hard metal, tracing joints in metal. His actions are odd to those observing, but, for himself it's a way to remember the past with his flesh.

　GFM-1st Lieutenant Yato approaches him. "Captain. We have all chosen, what now?" As his eyes snap to her, she smiles softly. Being his adjutant, she knows Shigure's quirks, and she tries not to startle him when his is locked in the past.

　Fidgeting with his tie, he nods. "Good. We can move on."

　"Move on...?" She tilts her head while the others trade glances.

　For Shigure, a nice seat of an armoured personnel carrier. For his squad, the cramped and dull cockpit of a GF-Twain. Seeing through computer displays and controlling via joysticks and pedals. Confused and panicked chattering over radio communications.

　"Is this what you meant by move on?! I won't be moving ANYWHERE at this rate, Sir!"

　Ichijo yells through his headset, all the while trying to balance his Gleipnir using gyroscopes and hydraulic pressure. Of which is proving substantially difficult.

　Just outside the confines of Tsuiki, his squad is jumbled together in a group. In a nearby field to limit damage of, well, anything. Training frames can only prepare an operator for so much, and there is a reason those who are only using training frames are not called operators. It does not replicate the true feeling of piloting a Gleipnir. Having safety features and operator assistance sub-routines in the dozens; training frames never prepare a Trainee for the real deal.

　Shigure watches from his position, the ceiling hatch of a APC. He smirks to himself, revelling in the amusement he finds in watching soldiers struggle with controlling Gleipnirs. Massive military mechs rocking side to side, staying upright by what seems to be sheer luck. It's only a matter of time until one topples over, or some other hysterical spectacle.

　«How do these gyros work?! It's so sensitive.. unresponsive when I need it!»

　«Ahhh!! My screens are flickering! I can't see I can't seeee!!»

　«Why is my hydraulic pressure falling???»

　«This is nothing like the simulations! YOU COULD OF WARNED USSS!!!»

　Shigure gives a rare snort of laughter as he watches Takeuchi's GF-Twain smash onto the ground. The cacophony of metal and deafening boom once it meets ground. It's only dirt, and a Gleipnir is designed to withstand extremely rough conditions, hence, no damages arises from the fall. The only damage being Takeuchi's hurt ego. His groans come across the radio channel, partially drowned out by the cries stemming from the others. Ryuuji and Zhaojun, the two who seem to be grasping piloting current, turn their Gleipnir's head to observe Takeuchi's collapsed one.

　Almost brought to tears from amusement, Shigure wipes his flushed face and adjusts his headset. «Trainees, and you Yato. Activate your Frame's D.O.S. system. Use the keyboard on your lefthand side and enter DOS, it will start up.» Leaning against the metal rim of his cupola, looking out at the still teetering Gleipnirs, accompanied by Takeuchi's laying still atop the soil.

　All praying this 'DOS' will save them from impending humiliation and loss of control, they each enter this command into their control panel. Subsequently, the Gleipnirs Shigure is watching level out, at least slightly. It's apparent this squad will be walking nowhere, at least in this state.

　«Ryuuji, Zhaojun, help Takeuchi off the ground.»

　«Affirmative Sir.»

　«Yes Sir.»

　Without any experience in the GF-Twains, the two move painfully slowly. Turning at a dismal speed, walking to Takeuchi's GF spread on the ground. Stopping either side. Ryuuji's Frame's head looks down at him, appearing as if the trainee expects him to just rise from the ground.

　 «Get up.» Ryuuji's voice broadcasts over the communication channel. Callous and commanding. It seems he really does expect Takeuchi to just get up. His GF takes a step closer, still shaking, almost ready to topple over itself. «Get up Takeuchi.»

　«I couldn't even stand up straight... how the hell do you expect me to get up? Help me up already damn it!» He shouts inside his cockpit, metal walls bouncing his voice back to him. Nothing comes over the radio for a brief period of time, before Ryuuji's voice dominates again.

　«Fine.»

　With that said, Zhaojun and Ryuuji position their Frames suitably beside his. Their heads swivelling and pivoting as they try to find the correct approach. Ryuuji taking initiative, leans his Gleipnir down, putting it's weight onto one knee. He grabs what could be best described as a handle cast atop the Frame's shoulder pauldron. Zhaojun copies his movements. Immediately after the two begin to lift Takeuchi's GF-Twain from the ground, piercing hissing of pneumatics engulf the field, accompanied by whirring of other stabilization systems. Each of their D.O.S. having detected their attempts to lift another Gleipnir, responding by assisting weight distribution and stability.

　Inch by inch, Takeuchi's GF-Twain is lifted with little assistance from himself. They get him stood, metal of his Frame's feet dig into the earth, destroying patches of elegant grass. With everyone somewhat stable, familiarizing themselves with balancing - assisted by D.O.S. of course. Shigure makes another address. «Comfortable standing?»

　«Scared... but otherwise good enough, Captain» 1st Lieutenant laughs coyly.

　«Absolutely Sir.»

　«It keeps rocking about... but I think I can handle it, Sir!»

　«I learnt my lesson, Sir.»

　«Affirmative.»

　Nodding to himself, he keeps his gaze steady on the Gleipnirs idling nearby. «Satisfactory. Stowed on your back is your primary; the MAK-72 Kikan機関. Grab it with either hand, and the lock magnets will automatically detach. Your Gleipnir will automatically adjust for weight.»

　One after another, they reach over their shoulder, grasping this equally as massive weapon. Holding at their chest like any other firearm, it's size is obvious. An autocannon chambered in 72 mm, styled like an upsized rifle. Just lacking much shape, instead sharing visual properties of it's smaller chain-gun cousins. Shy of a third the height of a GF-Twain in length, taken mainly by it's perforated barrel. Ichijo juggles it lightly in his Gleipnir's hand, observing its make and functions. «This is pretty cool...! I imagine its recoil will be easy to handle.»

　«You will find out Trainee. For now, all of you keep the safety engaged. We have a long walk to go. Almost 2 hours judging from the lack of control.»

　«Wait what?! We just got the hang of standing! Now you expect us to walk.. and walk for hours? You're joking right, Sir?» Takeuchi, who has only just activated his D.O.S. and steadied out, does not like the promise of walking in these machines. He dreads the thought of combat while being unable to even keep one standing...

　«We're going to Hiraodai Gleipnir Proving Grounds. About 15 kilometre North East of us. Just follow behind my APC.» Shigure drops down into the interior, looking to the driver. "Move." He nods and pops back out the cupola, the armoured vehicle lurching forward and starting its path down the road. Shigure looks back to the grouping of GF-Twains, appearing puzzled and uncertain. «Don't just stand there, walk.»