Rooks hit pockets of air, and use a condensed energy projection to create turbulence immediately upon hitting air resistance, allowing them to stop their dead-fall into atmosphere, which would burn the craft up with its entry velocity.
Orcas don't have this luxury. The Orca dead drops, straight through the air. Plummeting through dense air with only ceramic and an advanced plastic coating to keep the vessel from tearing apart as heat flicks at the hull. The pilot loses consciousness at the shock layer. The only thing keeping you alive is a pressure-reactive gel, and nanoweave fabric. Your lungs will try to empty themselves and your helmet forces you to breathe, over-inflating your lungs with oxygen.
You'll wake several seconds later, in a spiraling dive as the ship tries to hold some semblance of stability. Your hands will struggle for the stick to control the craft. Hopefully saving yourself and your crew cargo from burning in a fireball of twisted metal. Eventually, you'll be able to steady the engines in reverse, thrust against gravity, and carry your people to safety.
"Lieutenant millers?" A voice asked, from behind a white respirator, which projected a hardlight film over the eyes. Their hair was pulled back to he kept and concealed in a wrap from the hairline, back and down so no skin or hair could be exposed, and contaminate the medical ward. "Your procedure is finished. Welcome to SuVV. You'll be cleared for duty in twenty-four hours. I recommend you check in with Commander Crier, and relevant VAS personnel."
She hadn't been givennkuch time to process this promotion. Nor was it even an option. Orca pilots were needed, after the recent raid in Kepler took several SuVV divisions entirely out, along with the important Orca pilots. Higher ups were practically forcing Aquila pilots who didn't hold long-established careers to take roles as SuVV Orca pilots. And it involved a damn bug in the back of her head, to store all her personal conversations. And report to a new ship even, to the new top priority vessel for active SuVV assignments. With the back of her neck healed up, and the doctor's permission to go, Millers could go about to her pre-operative duties.
Orcas don't have this luxury. The Orca dead drops, straight through the air. Plummeting through dense air with only ceramic and an advanced plastic coating to keep the vessel from tearing apart as heat flicks at the hull. The pilot loses consciousness at the shock layer. The only thing keeping you alive is a pressure-reactive gel, and nanoweave fabric. Your lungs will try to empty themselves and your helmet forces you to breathe, over-inflating your lungs with oxygen.
You'll wake several seconds later, in a spiraling dive as the ship tries to hold some semblance of stability. Your hands will struggle for the stick to control the craft. Hopefully saving yourself and your crew cargo from burning in a fireball of twisted metal. Eventually, you'll be able to steady the engines in reverse, thrust against gravity, and carry your people to safety.
"Lieutenant millers?" A voice asked, from behind a white respirator, which projected a hardlight film over the eyes. Their hair was pulled back to he kept and concealed in a wrap from the hairline, back and down so no skin or hair could be exposed, and contaminate the medical ward. "Your procedure is finished. Welcome to SuVV. You'll be cleared for duty in twenty-four hours. I recommend you check in with Commander Crier, and relevant VAS personnel."
She hadn't been givennkuch time to process this promotion. Nor was it even an option. Orca pilots were needed, after the recent raid in Kepler took several SuVV divisions entirely out, along with the important Orca pilots. Higher ups were practically forcing Aquila pilots who didn't hold long-established careers to take roles as SuVV Orca pilots. And it involved a damn bug in the back of her head, to store all her personal conversations. And report to a new ship even, to the new top priority vessel for active SuVV assignments. With the back of her neck healed up, and the doctor's permission to go, Millers could go about to her pre-operative duties.
Well, that was jarring. She had only just volunteered for her new position, and they had already practically shoved her into an operating room. Not that she had minded it that much, they had told exactly what she'd be getting into by doing this, and she had accepted that. Not that it made Eden feel any better at the moment.
"U-Ugh" she uttered out, her hold on conciousness was still tenuous at best.
"Commander Crier? Got it..." she muttered, rising from her rest. She was a little disoriented, but she could still make her way around the ship pretty effectively. She gave the doctor a quick nod and a wave, before heading out.
She would quickly make her through the halls of the Estella, making her way down to the SuVV sections of the ship. The area was pretty foreign to her, being from a different section of personnel, but she had a good enough grasp of where to go. All she had to do was find Commander Crier.
"U-Ugh" she uttered out, her hold on conciousness was still tenuous at best.
"Commander Crier? Got it..." she muttered, rising from her rest. She was a little disoriented, but she could still make her way around the ship pretty effectively. She gave the doctor a quick nod and a wave, before heading out.
She would quickly make her through the halls of the Estella, making her way down to the SuVV sections of the ship. The area was pretty foreign to her, being from a different section of personnel, but she had a good enough grasp of where to go. All she had to do was find Commander Crier.
The SuVV stations were pretty clearly marked. It was really more of an issue of Starboard or Port side. The rule of thumb would be to check port for senior staff. Either way, the SuVV airlock went down the middle, blocking off an entire section of the ship, to most mechanics' inconvenience. Only qualified mechanics and synthetic crew were allowed to make repairs in the area.
An airlock with a bright red console warned most crew away from the area, but as she approached, and the console detected her new identification chip, the heavy mechanism began to rotate, releasing the two thick structures from their pressure lock. A small indicator on the door itself blinked green, and the sections of door split apart, into a split corridor, leading diagonally into the two sections. An AI-controlled gun emplacement laid dormant in the middle, aiming down to try and seem flush with the division. Should anyone actually manage to pry open the airlock, or cut through it, this section's dedicated AI would gun down intruders. Not their own people of course, but the higher ups were very paranoid about what secrets they left with SuVV.
The AI recognized the new entry, and a set of lights along the floor, meant for emergency evacuations, directed Millers to the port side section. A secondary airlock here once again, blinked green and split apart to allow her inside. Inside was the primary armoury. One thing Millers might not have been used to, is the seemingly projected signs over doors. These doors had never been labelled before, not even the airlock outside. It was only with her implant, that she was being given a guide to the layout of the SuVV section. Even walking into the armoury, several of the compartments where rifles were lined, listed the names of who each rifle belonged to. Even where guns were missing, it displayed above each gun whether they were being maintenance, replaced, or out for firing practice. These text tabs formed as her pupils glanced over objects, and quickly collapsed as her pupils left them, to decrease the kind of irritation this would cause. One more door, and finally she'd come to one of the less armoured airlocks.
CDR. Stasiya Vasilyev
Underneath where the projected text told who the office actually belonged to, "Crier" had been written in with spray paint. It seemed as tight as the SuVV were, they still had some fun in the form of these friendly interactions, to spray paint their own commander's door. This door, like the others, would open on it's own to her will. They all seemed to just know that she needed to go through them. The convenience of the implants.
Crier sat at her desk, looming over her holographic display. Some terrain had projected itself over the desk top, and multiple blips showed some kind of battle overview. Tabs above showed names and status reports. By the way it was paused, this had likely been a review of a battle already fought. The woman herself though, her figure was easily visible with her nanoweave vacuum-tightened uniform. They all had to wear them. They were practically a second skin. She wasn't particularly large-built, but she was definitely lean. She'd often be seen around the ship with her hair down, and messy. Contrast to her rule-abiding personality. However, leaning over the hologram, her hair had been tied back into a loose bun. Her tattoo would be visible. That dark blue tear under her eye, hiding what was pretty clear as well in the low light. The implant underneath her skin, that allowed her a small aid, after being injured a few years back. She hadn't given her guest any notice. She seemed to trust whoever could get through all the security in order to stand in her doorway, to be someone who actually should be standing in her doorway.
An airlock with a bright red console warned most crew away from the area, but as she approached, and the console detected her new identification chip, the heavy mechanism began to rotate, releasing the two thick structures from their pressure lock. A small indicator on the door itself blinked green, and the sections of door split apart, into a split corridor, leading diagonally into the two sections. An AI-controlled gun emplacement laid dormant in the middle, aiming down to try and seem flush with the division. Should anyone actually manage to pry open the airlock, or cut through it, this section's dedicated AI would gun down intruders. Not their own people of course, but the higher ups were very paranoid about what secrets they left with SuVV.
The AI recognized the new entry, and a set of lights along the floor, meant for emergency evacuations, directed Millers to the port side section. A secondary airlock here once again, blinked green and split apart to allow her inside. Inside was the primary armoury. One thing Millers might not have been used to, is the seemingly projected signs over doors. These doors had never been labelled before, not even the airlock outside. It was only with her implant, that she was being given a guide to the layout of the SuVV section. Even walking into the armoury, several of the compartments where rifles were lined, listed the names of who each rifle belonged to. Even where guns were missing, it displayed above each gun whether they were being maintenance, replaced, or out for firing practice. These text tabs formed as her pupils glanced over objects, and quickly collapsed as her pupils left them, to decrease the kind of irritation this would cause. One more door, and finally she'd come to one of the less armoured airlocks.
CDR. Stasiya Vasilyev
Underneath where the projected text told who the office actually belonged to, "Crier" had been written in with spray paint. It seemed as tight as the SuVV were, they still had some fun in the form of these friendly interactions, to spray paint their own commander's door. This door, like the others, would open on it's own to her will. They all seemed to just know that she needed to go through them. The convenience of the implants.
Crier sat at her desk, looming over her holographic display. Some terrain had projected itself over the desk top, and multiple blips showed some kind of battle overview. Tabs above showed names and status reports. By the way it was paused, this had likely been a review of a battle already fought. The woman herself though, her figure was easily visible with her nanoweave vacuum-tightened uniform. They all had to wear them. They were practically a second skin. She wasn't particularly large-built, but she was definitely lean. She'd often be seen around the ship with her hair down, and messy. Contrast to her rule-abiding personality. However, leaning over the hologram, her hair had been tied back into a loose bun. Her tattoo would be visible. That dark blue tear under her eye, hiding what was pretty clear as well in the low light. The implant underneath her skin, that allowed her a small aid, after being injured a few years back. She hadn't given her guest any notice. She seemed to trust whoever could get through all the security in order to stand in her doorway, to be someone who actually should be standing in her doorway.