[right][sup]Collab with [@Sisyphus][/sup][/right]
Chloe listened to the impromptu briefing intently, trying not to fidget under the feeling of eleven eyes sizing her up. She clenched her jaw slightly at her commander's comment about surviving the war intact, making an effort not to betray any emotion even as Delaney laughed his head off to her right. She remembered him from the Academy, not too long ago; buerocratic circumstances had resulted in his shipping out slightly before her, and no doubt he was relishing the opportunity to laugh at the expense of Miss Perfect. Then the klaxon sounded, and she barely had time to salute her officer again before she was instructed to rush off to her MAS.

Throughout the exchange, Atalyah remained mostly silent, bar the odd grumble or 'hmph' as he listened. For whatever reason there may be, he was the odd one as the revelation washed over the rest of the squadron: while the others blinked and whispered between themselves, putting 2 and 2 together with the squadron commander and the spook, Atalyah kept swiping at his datapad. His thought process was never terribly transparent - it couldn't possibly be the real Atalyah if it was.

Yet soon enough, Atalyah's lazy swiping and distant observations were interrupted by the wailing siren. He knew the sound all too well: before he realized it himself, he was pressing in on the side of his datapad and pressing it back into it's thigh pocket. As he scooped up his helmet, he looked over towards Ingram after hearing his name. The direction was simple enough: get the rookie to the Shrike - yet, Atalyah initially blinked at the direction, a little curious.
[b]"The Shrike?"[/b] Atalyah asked, shooting a side-eye towards the would-be honor student. Admittedly, he hadn't been paying that much attention when she arrived, so his head turned to face her for a moment as he continued: [b]"Christ, you're confident in the rookie, boss."[/b] Despite his questioning, he gave Ingram a light slap on the back as he passed him, silently communicating that he was all over it.

[b]"Well, I guess I'll just have to live up to that confidence,"[/b] Chloe said as she followed the veteran with quick, halting steps. [b]"I've put up some good numbers in simulators with the Shrike... I did better with the Gladiator, but I guess that's the way these things go."[/b] She swallowed sharply to cut off her own babbling. This wasn't even a combat situation, unless things went horribly wrong - acting like some nervous rookie here was beyond ridiculous.

She took a deep breath as the war machine came into view. The Shrike was a nimble machine, as complicated anything ever made to fly. If she wanted a chance to prove herself, the red and white suit that towered above her was the chance. She noted wryly that there were a few scratches and dents in the paint that had yet to be buffed out - old machine, new pilot, she thought wryly.

[b]"What do you fly?"[/b] she asked Atalyah, following behind him like a baby duck. [b]"Something heavy, I'm guessing?"[/b]

As Atalyah listened, walking alongside her on the way to the Shrike, his expression remained flat and unbetraying; yet, despite this, it left little room for doubt that he was judging her. Whatever the outcome was, it couldn't have been too harsh, because he answered in kind:
[b]"What gave it away? Is it because I'm old and fat?"[/b] he'd let out a brief, quiet chuckle as he motioned Chloe towards the boarding staircase, pushed into position by an engineer only moments ago. [b]"I drive the big one over there."[/b] he'd answer properly as he glanced to the side, pointing to easily the largest machine in the hanger: a towering machination of largely green, with one of it's two extra limbs twitching at the behest of an engineer standing on the catwalk above it.

As he looked back, he moved to trail behind Chloe, to make a file with the steep stairs-on-wheels on the other side of her.
[b]"Any questions before you board? Any doubts at all? This should be a good practice flight for getting started with the squadron, we can run through it all properly and get you introduced to the boys once we're back."[/b]

[b]"Just a hunch,"[/b] Chloe murmured. [b]"The old and fat part had nothing to do with it."[/b] She stepped up the boarding staircase gingerly, gripping the railing until her knuckles were white beneath the gloves. [b]"Nah, I'm... I'm good. Sure I've got nothing to worry about with you in that four-armed thing there."[/b] She cracked a smile, internally frustrated that she couldn't recognize the model of the veteran's MAS. She'd have to review the dossiers again.

The klaxon sounded again, and Chloe rolled a crack out of her neck. [b]"So, what's my callsign? Red?"[/b]

[b]"Noob,"[/b] Atalyah responded frankly, without missing a beat: [b]"your callsign is noob. That is, until you manage to earn one for yourself."[/b] He followed behind her up the staircase, leaving her a bit of room as she progressed. As much as he hated to admit it, he was curious: how would a student-of-merit do in their first flight? He'd never seen an academy graduate quite of that caliber before.

Regardless, keeping his thoughts to himself like always, Atalyah continued: [b]"As you already know, it's going to be a dry one. Just stay in formatioon and try to get a feel for how the different pilots operate; although, I'm sure you heard it all in the academy before."[/b] He'd pause for a moment, glancing towards Ingram, before looking back to add: [b]"...and if anything goes wrong - which it won't now, but just for future - and you panic, just get behind me, yeah? I'll worry about whatever while you get your bearings back."[/b] 

He would remain behind her, half-lifting a hand in preperation to check the cockpit seal once she was inside.

[b]"... Yeah, guess I could have seen that coming."[/b] Chloe stepped into the cockpit. [b]"Alright, fly behind four arms, got it."[/b] She flashed the veteran a smile as the cockpit sealed in front of her - he may not be speaking much, but she could tell this one was someone worth learning from. Whatever he knew, she'd have to know, too.

The cockpit of the MAS sealed with a hiss, and information panels flickered to life in front of her. [b]"Ensign O'Connor is in gear,"[/b] she spoke into the comms channel, flicking quickly through the diagnostics of her machine. 

Returning the guesture, Atalyah returned the smile - an almost faint, jaded thing, one that seemed more tired than anything. It faded as soon as it arrived, his attention taken by other things: as the cockpit door pressed shut, Atalyah pressed his two gloved hands along the length of the seal on either side, listening for rushes of air and watching for any subtle movements. While it was rare, it has happened before: depressurization from an equipment failure, the poor pilot being sucked through a slot too thin for a coin with what's left being shot out into space. He had seen it himself, all that time ago. 

Yet, everything seemed to be in order. Lifting a hand, Atalyah flashed the pilot he couldn't see a thumbs-up as he started to tuirn. Before long, he'd no doubt dip out of sight of the latest addition to the motley crew, the ladder being wheeled away shortly after. As he crossed the hall, he flipped his helmet about in his hands before lifting it above his hand, where he could bring it down over his graying hair and press the seal into place. 

Thankfully, as Atalyah approached his own machine, the engineer was walking away on the catwalk overhead. The two exchanged a glance and a sequence of thumbs-ups, communicating that everyting was in order. Climbing up his own boarding staircase, Atalyah hefted himself into his own cockpit: much bulkier than the one he just checked, yet much more welcoming for him. Everything was where it should be, where it has been for years: from the obvious switches to the subtle touches, it all sat where it felt right for him.

As the cockpit door closed over him to embrace him yet again, Atalyah spoke, his helmet transmissing his aging voice over the squadron frequency:
[b]"Boss, this is Nix - loud and clear. All irish over here. Over."[/b] he answered, lifting a hand to swat at a few switches as he did. As he spoke, he looked over towards the Shrike he just came from. From the safety of his cockpit, he allowed himself a quiet moment of thought as he watched Chloe run through her checks: why would a young mind like that, with the smarts to graduate from the academy as the student of merit, try to join the military? It made him feel a pang of guilt - almost irrationaly, as he very well knew. 

As he returned his attention purely to his pre-flight procedures, Atalyah enjoyed the thought of the war ending sometime in the next few months. He'd seen alot of bright minds like Chloe's come to posting and be shot down shortly after; at least he wouldn't have to see it again.

Only a cruel, metaphysical god would punish these men and women with such a fate, surely.