[color=f26522][center][h2]Ensign Chloe O'Connor[/h2][/center][/color]

[i]Don't let them make you feel like you don't belong.[/i] That was what her mother had told her on her first day of school so very long ago, when she was nervous about showing up in her ratty clothes and worn-out shoes. [i]You're just as good as any of them.[/i] Chloe took a deep breath in the back of the shuttle and wrinkled up her nose. She was a soldier now, a MAS pilot that had graduated with honors from the North Ganymede Military Institute. To be nervous at the prospect of meeting her squad wasn't just silly - it was ridiculous.

From what she'd heard, this job was supposed to be a milk-run, anyway. The situation would only get hot if things went really wrong with the peace talks, and why would they? Both sides had to know this was the best chance for an end to the destruction. [i]Good job, Chloe. You became a soldier just in time for the war to end.[/i] She felt a pang of guilt at the thought.

After what seemed like a million years, the shuttle docked in the hangar. The pilot waved her out gruffly as he rattled off a series of authorization codes into his radio, and the side door slid open with a hiss. Chloe grabbed her helmet off from the seat next to her, slung it under her arm, and stepped out of the shuttle. The first thing she saw was a massive black machine just ahead of her - a MAS suit that looked like a Gladiator variant kneeling down and being swarmed by jerseys."Excuse me," she said to one of the white jerseys that went rushing past her, "I'm looking for the 12th?"

"Down there," the man answered distractedly, waving across the hangar as he hurried onwards towards the MAS. She followed his gesture to see a small section of the hangar that had obviously been cordoned off by some spare crates, where a motley of pilots in flight suits lazed about. Chloe took a deep breath, gripped her helmet tighter, and marched against the stream of engineers to the squad.

Someone else beat her there, of course - a dark-haired woman in black armor with the white cape of an ISS commander stopped just in front of the card game and loudly demanded to know the identity of the outfit's commander. Chloe knew that already, of course - Lieutenant Commander Ingram Shaw, Hero of Cerol, commander of the 12th, was sitting on a crate on the edge of the gathering, a steel thermos in her hand. Chloe cleared her throat; protocol might dictate that she wait for the ISS officer to address the commander, but considering that they were meant to deploy in a matter of minutes it would probably be best she notify her officer that she had arrived.

"Lieutenant Commander sir," she said, saluting smartly and keeping her posture fixed at attention, "Ensign Chloe O'Connor, reporting for duty, sir!"