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[IC] Midnight Sun: Original Thread

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Hidden 7 yrs ago → 7 yrs ago Post by mickilennial
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mickilennial Patron Saint of Inconsistency

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Taiyōtawa Interstellar Piloting Academy



“And that will end our brief lecture on the role of mecha preceding the Valkyrie Project.”

The gray-haired general education instructor waved his hand across the holoboard, shuttering the image in front of his classroom of fifty-two students. As one of the elder members of the faculty at Taiyotawa, he had seen his share of students longer than most of his colleagues. This group, as far as he could tell, were earnest and hard-working cadets. Each cadet wore the same streamlined uniform with the only difference between them being the color of their highlighted trim: red for engineers, yellow for operators, green for pilots, and blue for those chosen to be prospects for the new Valkyrie project. He had only seen a small handful change colors in the last few weeks of the preliminary semester.

As his students collected their datapads and binders, the instructor’s eyes looked at each student as chatter filled the room as the alert for the beginning of lunch rung out on the speakers in the classroom as the clock struck 1200.

“And don't forget that I want your essays on Isao Taiyōtawa in my databanks by tuesday!”
Hidden 7 yrs ago Post by Feyblue
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Almost the moment the professor declared the lecture had ended, a rather tall, dark-haired young man in the back row had already closed out of his desk terminal, risen to his feet, slung a somewhat ragged and worn backpack over one shoulder, and headed for the door. At a glance, one might have assumed based on his frown and his haste to get out of the classroom that there was somewhere else he needed to be - after all, he did seem to be in quite the hurry, and gave off a certain impression that he didn't want to be meddled with. But of course, that wasn't entirely the case, as he, like those who followed after him, simply made his way to the lunch hall as expected.

Bel always had a policy of trying to arrive at lunch as early as possible. Front of the line meant first to get in. First to get in meant first to get served. First to get served meant he could find his own spot to eat off in some small corner of the dining hall without ending up crowded out by his fellow engineering cadets - or worse, those damned stuck-up piloting candidates. Of the two, the former were infinitely more welcoming, but that in and of itself made them almost as bad as the alternative. After all, the only reason they'd even bother talking to him was because they saw in him the potential for some sort of camaraderie which Bel had no intention of participating in. Just because he'd ended up in their program, they assumed he was some kind of failure who'd join them in resenting and envying everyone else who'd actually managed to cut it. But what was there to envy? He wasn't a failure.

He'd outperformed all those stuck-up asshats who, starting this year, would be wearing the coveted blue and looking down their noses at him like he was some sort of insect, as if all those times he'd shot them down in simulation had never even happened. Even without a partner, he still could easily have qualified for the normal piloting program, and probably could have done quite well for himself if he'd just been allowed to try. But that man... That damned man... He'd pushed Bel aside just because he wasn't fit to be his protege, and had tried to cover up his own embarrassment at trying to force his own son into that role and failing by shoving Bel as far out of the limelight as possible.

Of course, even if he had been able to make it into the green program, Bel would have surely refused had the choice been given to him. That would be settling for second best, and second best wasn't his style. The result would have doubtless been the same, so that wasn't why he was angry. He just resented not being given the choice.

After skimming through the serving line and grabbing a few dishes that seemed appetizing, Bel had just found a nice spot near the back of the cafeteria and sat down to eat when a shadow was suddenly cast over him from behind. He cocked his head back just enough to make out a white and red uniform like his own. It was strange, though... He didn't remember anyone quite so tall being in the program. Well, whatever.

"Yeah? Whaddya want?" He half-mumbled, half-growled as he kicked back in his chair, munching on a bread roll. The person standing behind him cleared his throat very audibly, and it was around this point that Bel realized his mistaken assumption. Throwing down his food, he shot bolt upright and turned around, standing immediately at attention.

"Captain Zaren, sir!" He exclaimed as he met the gaze of his team's supervisor. The tall, tan-skinned man gave a slight chuckle, his lips forming into a lopsided grin as he removed one hand from his pocket and waved it dismissively.

"At ease, kid."

"My bad, thought you were someone else," Bel said despite himself, his posture relaxing back to his usual slouch as he dragged the chair out to one side, then dropped once more into his seat. It was remarkable how quickly his conditioned discipline gave way to complete disregard for order once his surprise had passed, but thankfully, his teacher didn't exactly make a point of standing on ceremony. What would otherwise have probably been seen as disrespect passed between them as normal - so long as they were outside of class. "So what's the deal? I thought we didn't have any meetings or exercises or whatever set until the project tomorrow?"

"And you'd be right," The captain replied with a shrug, tossing himself down in the seat across from his student. "So, since you're so free these days, I thought you could give this old man a hand with some of his own work."

"'Old man?' Really?" Bel replied scathingly, raising an eyebrow. "You're... what, like 35? It's a little early to be begging for sympathy, even with that gray hair of yours, 'gramps.'"

"39, actually. And be that as it may, you're a little late to be learning respect for your elders, kid."

"I told you to stop calling me that."

"Whatever you say, son."

"Oh, shut up!" Bel growled irritably, shooting a glare across the table. The captain merely chuckled, and Bel sighed, shaking his head. "What is it you want my help with, then, anyway?"

"Nothing much. Just basic setup for a training exercise for some of the piloting newbies. The flight instructor asked me to help out since he's shorthanded at the moment. Just need to move a few seats, maybe calibrate some sim equipment..." Zaren trailed off, giving a knowing smile. Bel only realized a few moments later that he'd started grinning the moment he'd heard the words 'calibrate and 'sim equipment,' and quickly wiped the smirk off his face. Clearing his throat, he took a moment before answering.

"Well, I guess I can help you out," He responded at last, trying his best to sound inconvenienced by the whole thing. Zaren stood up with his usual lopsided grin and reached out, unexpectedly tousling the grumpy young man's already messy hair. "Hey!" Bel growled, trying to shake off the unwanted gesture.

"Knew I could count on you, kid. Head down to storage B on deck 2 when you're done eating. I'll be waiting!" With that, just as suddenly as he had appeared, the captain strolled off, leaving Bel flushed and angrily glaring after as he brushed the hair out of his face.

"I told you to stop calling me that," He grumbled.
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Hidden 7 yrs ago Post by Stern Algorithm
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Stern Algorithm Loquacious Aggression

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Ophelia Minovska
@Feyblue

Ophelia smiled to herself as she got up from her seat. She was a little older than most of the students in her class, which made it awkward to approach them or for them to approach her. But she was just happy that she was now a candidate, instead of a 'training dummy'.

Ophelia made her way to the cafeteria, though she arrived rather late; the hustle and bustle of students milling about prompted much acquiescence from the quiet woman. As such, it took her a fair amount of time to maneuver through a crowd. Having collected her tray of food, she noticed a ranking officer playfully harassing a student. She recognized the officer as Captain Zaren, of Team Delta, an engineering team she saw around quite frequently performing maintenance on PC-TC interface modules in the lab where her 'services' were employed. Was the student also a member of Team Delta? A closer inspection of his collar indicated that he was, like her, a pilot candidate, and not an engineering student. As Captain Zaren left, Ophelia made it so she could hold her tray with one hand and salute with the other as he passed by. Turning her attention back to the other student, she decided to sit down next to him since it was out of the way of the crowds, and they at least had someone in common they knew.

"Excuse me, is this seat taken? Ophelia asked Bel.
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Hidden 7 yrs ago → 7 yrs ago Post by The 42nd Gecko
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L y r e n


"FUCK!" This exclamation shattered the silence in the library, causing most of its few inhabitants to jolt from their reading for a moment.

Any who turned their heads to look at the source of the outburst would likely find Lyren, glaring angrily, not at someone, as was her usual, but instead at a book. A book on the history of one Isao Taiyōtawa. Beside it laid a folded touchscreen laptop, or perhaps a VERY large tablet. She was hunched forward, the feet of the chair almost lifting from how far forward she was poised as well. Fingers drummed angrily on the pages of the book, while she also slowly brushed the hair out of her eyes with a motion dragging across her entire face.

"Every time I try to think off what I'm supposed to write about this asshat, I'm just so frustrated. When am I ever going to be staring down an enemy force and go 'Damn, if only I could remember when some self-important corpse stepped on Terra Nova'?" Her voice gradually lowered to a level somewhat more acceptable as 'slightly boisterous study group'. "Tch..." She tisked as she shoved the book away and leaned back in the chair. She cushioned her head in her hands as she stared at the ceiling.

She breathed in deeply, closing her eyes and holding her breath for ten seconds before letting it out in a slow exhalation. Her chest now rose and fell smoothly, as the crease in her brow slowly unfolded and the tension seeped from her body. Eventually, she rose up pulled the book closer, apparently ready to begin attempting to work on her essay, again.
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