[center][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/200418/f47fa1c54c83c3a280ff2221e058df0c.png[/img][/center] [indent][indent][indent][right][sub][code]Smith's Rest, New Anchorage[/code] | [code]Transit Station[/code][/sub][/right][hr] What were the odds? The plucky, red-haired teenager pressed her tongue against her uppermost canine, thinking over the situation she found herself in. A bunch of would-be pilots, some she recognized, and the “boss” or one of them, she guessed, was meeting them on head-first. Of all the things she had experienced her lifetime as a pilot, this one made the list as the strangest. But Ryn wasn’t a corporate hire. She barely recognized executives and commanders due to the fact that throughout her time as a pilot she mostly had generally found employment in the midwestern territories or in the deep end of the divide. Most of the jobs she took were in the more chaotic, independent north; the stretch of land between what was once called Iowa and Saskatchewan. She had once told a [i]friend[/i] that she preferred working far and away from corporate oversight. It was “easier” she had said, though the truth of the matter was she didn’t understand it. Yet here she was. Her first real “corporate” assignment, or well, tryout. The message on her holotool several weeks ago had mentioned there would be secondary interviews and trials going forward, though there was no real information on what they were looking for in New Anchorage. Just load your NC on a train to Alaska, do the trials, make the grade. In her mind she had little doubt that she could handle it. But Kathryn Dradht was not a girl who was lacking in confidence. [color=F7941D]“So. What’s the deal with this place?”[/color] The comment was blunt, lacking respect or manners, but as far as Ryn could figure it was a question that was on everybody’s minds. The dark-haired commander remained silent for a moment as he considered the question. [color=556B2F]“New Anchorage?”[/color] As he explained his answer the other man began to escort the non-pilots out of the depot, leaving him with the Ryn and the rest of the prospective pilots. Ryn wasn’t really a master of reading people but she could tell that her new maybe-boss had a lot on his mind that he wasn’t exactly disclosing. [color=556B2F]“To strip it down into the basics? It’s a coalition of settlements that want to push back against key threats surrounding the region. I suppose it’s not very different from places like Blackstone Harbor or Dead Springs. A place that has survived on the skin of its teeth and only one or two NC pilots for the last few decades. I intend to take a proactive approach in making New Anchorage safe and secure.”[/color] As he clipped the datapad that was in his hands to his utility belt, he moved his hands behind his back and continued speaking. But Ryn's attention wasn't on his posture, but more of the fact that he decided to mention [i]Blackstone Harbor[/i]. She wasn't sure why he went out of the way to compare Blackstone and this new place in Alaska, but it wasn't going to make her feel like she was finding a new home. This was a [i]job[/i]. Nothing could replace what she had in Blackstone. She raised a brow as he began to lead the group outside and toward the base itself. [color=556B2F]“But, no. This isn’t an army. Don’t expect me to be training you all to be soldiers, only capable pilots who follow orders and live up to expectations, and the only expectation I've been asked to test you for is if you can fly, shoot, and protect a handful of settlements. Any other questions?”[/color] [/indent][/indent][/indent]