To Gunnery Sergeant Ranka Lee, a very-recently inducted personnel to board the Greenwich, it was certainly a new and jarring experience.
Make no mistake though, the diva-turned-copilot was no stranger to military vessels or pretty much N.U.N.S. facilities in general. During the Vajra war, she would make frequent trips to the infamous S.M.S.'s Macross Quarter to accompany them during their advances towards the Vajra planet with her voice, the very same planet they were still currently on, and even months after the war, visiting other Spacy warships, established bases, makeshift civilian camps and field hospitals are so common in occurrence that they'd almost held the girl a year back on her studies on Mihoshi Academy. Turns out being a savior of an entire migration fleet didn't exactly warrant her easy grades, but she fully understood the reason. Mihoshi was and still a school mainly for those who are interested in a military career after all.
Still, now inside the hangar of the Uraga-class Carrier, she couldn't help but to feel off. Maybe it was crew's rush, or the somewhat lukewarm reception she'd gotten from her new squad mates, but she could definitely conclude that the level of synergy and chemistry of the New United Nations Spacy personnel were vastly different from those of the Special Military Service. While the S.M.S. crew of the Quarter were much more lax and had a more welcoming vibe to them, the N.U.N.S. personnel were much more stern, colder, and certainly looked way more organized than the Private Military Organization that she'd come to know. Despite the two of them being military organizations, the difference was night and day, these guys were the real deal.
But somehow, and despite the circumstances, Ranka didn't feel too anxious about her current situation. If anything, she was becoming more and more excited to finally serve in a genuine military body, after all she would finally be a co-pilot for a Variable Fighter - sure she wasn't being immediately enrolled as a pilot. Everywhere her amber eyes would trail, she would see complex machinery being worked on by the Greenwich's maintenance crews, the men and women working hard to make sure the aircraft stored within the hangar were in their optimal condition. This only awakened her competitive spirit. Ranka Lee was a princess trapped in a castle and waiting to be rescued no more, and she certainly wouldn't waste the extra year she took in Mihoshi just to hone her skills as a pilot. She was now a fully-fledged military staff and pilot for this Harpoon Squadron, so she would do her best to act like one.
Unconsciously, and as her mind continued to wonder about all the things she could do, the greenette's mouth slowly erupted into a grin.
"...And that's it for the information regarding our squadron, Gunnery Sergeant Lee, do you have any questions?"
The girl nearly jumped when her ears picked up the voice of a male getting louder and louder. Her brain did a double take and she quickly realized that she was still being briefed about her new post by her new partner, Airman First Class Alexander Irons of the Harpoon Squadron. Speaking of lukewarm reception, this man could be just the perfect definition for that. His posture and ever-neutral expression seemed to tell her that he would have no problem accepting her into their ranks, but this tense muscles, rigid facial movement, as well as his visible veins wrinkling told everything but. The former-singer had to gulp a nervous saliva that was hanging on her throat when she saw his eyebrows twitching, an indication of annoyance.
"Ah, err- yes, actually!" She exclaimed quickly, recovering from her earlier shock. "What can you tell me about my post, uhh... Irons...-san?" The girl ended her question with uncertainty to refer to the man as. Sure, she has already outranked him by a considerable margin, but she knew well her rank probably meant nothing to his experience, proven by the multiple scars and the prosthetic connected to a stump on his left arm. Ranka didn't really want to call him out by his rank, it would only give him the sense that she was trying to rub it on him. In the end, she just decided for the time being, she would have to just refer him with an honorific.
Irons was not taking this lightly. It took a lot of his nerves to cool him down from the sudden revelation by his Flight Lead. Their squadron had accepted a civilian. A civilian. Her experience serving with the S.M.S., or her obvious title as the Frontier's savior be damned, she was still just a civilian. Was the expedition team that short of manpower that they accepted THE Ranka Lee of all people as his co-pilot? While he didn't exactly hate the young woman, heck, he was actually a bit of a fan of some of her songs, accepting such a figure to become an active-duty soldier was just out of the question for him. All sorts of negative opinions appeared within him, her being only a recent addition to their team but already out-ranking him certainly didn't help his case. And speaking of his Flight Lead, the Lieutenant and his Second-in-Command had just left the hangar to find the other members of the squadron, leaving all the technical introductory baggage for him to bear.
He was still thankful that the woman didn't seem to act like she expects to be dotted, showered with praises or cheers. In fact, the Ranka Lee he was seeing right now looked... somewhat professional for a greenhorn. As much as he hated the idea, Irons would still have to give some credit where they're due. Her casual vibes aside, he could tell that his co-pilot was seriously trying to fit in as an actual soldier, instead of just being a random passenger in for a free ride. Like all of the volunteers who were present, she must've had her own reasons to join as one, specifically as a pilot, no less. But Irons didn't want to know too much of her yet. If anything, she was still a FNG, and should be treated as one, outranked or not.
Still, internally, Harpoon Eleven was honestly surprised at how apprehensive he was feeling about the predicament. Most people would probably be receiving the former-or-concurrent Cinderella with open arms, and even that's an understatement. He could picture several personnel basically knocked out of their socks if they were to hear the news that Ranka Lee had boarded the Greenwich to help with the expedition.
"Before that, please allow me to ask you a few questions, Gunnery Sergeant," He swiped a hand over to the VF-171T they would be piloting. "Are you familiar with the flight controls or the schematics of a Variable Fighter?"
Ranka blinked, she was rather unprepared to face the question so early into her assignment to the squad. The greenette knew she would hear that inquiry sooner or later, but not too soon. "I... I suppose, I've familiarized myself with a VF's controls through training and simulations in Mihoshi."
Irons's eyebrows quirked upwards, before they furrowed to a slight frown. For the record, he didn't have anything against the flight school, but as a private local establishment, he'd heard that the academy was rather biased to the use of EX-Gears in their cadets' training process. Sure the EX-Gears themselves mimicked the actual feel and controls of a Valkyrie quite well, hell, they even made it easier for pilots to control their machines. Being directly connected to one's body as a part of an exoskeleton meant for a much more tighter, responsive, and lifelike bodily controls of a Variable Fighter, especially in their Battroid modes, and that was still not counting the usage of Slave Mode to autonomously control an aircraft simply with hand gestures even when the pilot was not present inside the cockpit. These reasons alone made multiple VF manufacturers to shift their priority when producing their machines to support the use of EX-Gears.
"...Allow me to clarify," Irons spoke again, a bit cautiously this time. "These... simulations, were they done using the EX-Gears?"
"Most of the time, yes," Ranka responded with a court nod, though her uneasiness was starting to show, and her partner-to-be's reaction certainly didn't help. "Is... something wrong?"
And that's exactly the problem with Mihoshi's pandering to the equipment's usage. Their reliance of the EX-Gears to train their cadets are well-and-good, but the N.U.N.S. didn't exactly have the budget to request VF-171EXs to be deployed as a mass-produced unit. Most, if not all normal variants of the VF-171s were still flown in their normal flight configurations, even years after the introduction of the flight-assisting exoskeleton, and the newly-introduced VF-171T in front of them fell in the latter category. That was the reason why traditional VF controls training was still standardized throughout the galaxy, at least, in New United Nations or government-ran piloting schools.
Alas, the male pilot opted to sigh, he wasn't in the position to be picky as he was also unfamiliar with a Variable Fighter's controls after spending so many months piloting a Koenig Monster then followed by even more months of recovering from his injuries. "Not necessarily..." He mumbled, motioning over to the ladder that led the two to the cockpit of the Nightmare. "But I would like to inform you that the VF-171T model uses a traditional flight control schematics, so..."
"Oh..." The co-pilot's face fell slightly, her heart sinking at the information. It felt like all the extra time and effort she'd put into learning with Mihoshi were wasted. "I see..."
Feeling that the news might've broken her morale, Irons quickly turned his brain to produce a rectifying response. "As I've said, it's not necessarily a problem. From what I've known the EX-Gears' are modeled after the standard flight scheme of the Nightmare anyway so you shouldn't have that much of a problem... that is... if I might say so myself, Gunnery Sergeant," He elaborated, only ending on an awkward note after he realized he'd ran his mouth too much. "Now, if you'd join me? I think it would be best for us to review and familiarize ourselves with our machines if we are to control this unit later," He pointed towards the empty co-pilot seat of the Nightmare, gesturing the greenete to climb aboard.
Hearing that reassurance helped the diva-turned-pilot somewhat, Ranka could only nod dumbly as her new pilot spoke to her, but her uncertainty returned when he invited her over to man the VF - however, such thoughts were quickly squashed by her own sense of excitement once again resurfacing. It was not an uncommon occurrence that Ranka would hitch in a ride or two in a Valkyrie, in fact, she was often-times rescued by one, courtesy of a certain S.M.S. pilot that'd gone Missing in Action. But this time, she would finally ride in one, not as a feeble girl that needed rescuing, but as a full-fledged pilot. Just the idea alone already made her bushy-green hair go all tingly to match her giddiness.
"Gunnery Sergeant Lee?" The neutral voice of her partner-to-be reached her ears to snap her out of her thoughts, Ranka's amber eyes refocused themselves to witness Irons, already situated at his own main-pilot seat, his eyebrows raised. "Something the matter?"
"Err, no! Everything's alright!" She quickly responded, voice going several octaves higher than her usual, but already-high pitch, her legs carrying her to climb the ladder to the co-pilot's portion of the cockpit.
Despite his grunt of affirmation, Irons was fighting back the urge to roll his eyes. Being a Zentran-descend himself, although spared from having an alien's name, he was all too familiar with that kind of bodily reaction. A Zentran's hair would usually reflexively move in accordance to their host's emotions, and the way hers moved was one indicating something akin to a childish glee. Still, he wouldn't have thought that the Cinderella would produce that show of excitement when being introduced to a tool of war, it's like she's been waiting her whole life to do this. But alas, logic over his curious thoughts and any personal questions would have to wait, if he wanted to ask them at all, even.
When Ranka reached the edge of the Nightmare's cockpit, she took in the view of the Valkyrie's interior. Dormant consoles, intricate, complex flight mechanism, all locked, inactive, and offline situated in front of an ejection seat of metal and cushioning dampeners, probably made to absorb some of the G-Force during acceleration and maneuvers. At this, she frowned lightly. She had been a passenger of multiple Variable Fighters before, so while she knew that their cockpits weren't exactly made to accommodate the comfort of their pilots, this one seemed to be taking it to the next level. Even for someone her size, which she wouldn't deny that she's a bit small for her age, the co-pilot's portion was just barely enough to fit her body inside, she couldn't even begin to imagine how the other personnel had to deal with this kind of seating arrangement.
But she then found herself steeling her nerves. A good soldier wouldn't complain, and that's what she'd do. Eagerly, the greenette plopped herself into the ejection seat of the Nightmare, shifting herself uncomfortably and carefully not to hit any of the internal machinery or circuitry. She quickly studied the contents inside, a plethora of buttons, levers, switches for her to toy with if they're active. A pair articulated flight sticks that also housed the unit's firing mechanisms, and what seemed to be thruster pedals to control the Valkyrie's verniers. It was more or less not much different from the instruments present for a VF's main pilot seat. Looking down on her seat, she saw a red handle - no doubt controlling the ejection.
Ranka could once again feel her anxiety rising. So many information entering and swirling inside her mind, information that she would have to learn if she valued her life. But she wouldn't let them overwhelm her, for what her main-pilot had said was true. The scheme inside did feel familiar to her, at least she could discern which part of the instrument controls which part of the fighter, thanks to her EX-Gear training. Similarly in the front, Irons was also feeling a bit uncomfortable at the foreign interior of a Variable Fighter. Despite also being an aircraft, the Koenig Monster he'd been piloting for months had vastly different controls than the Nightmare, contrary to popular belief, a Valkyrie's flight scheme isn't as standardized as everyone'd thought. This was also a learning experience for the pilot.
Flipping a switch, Irons could see the feedback coming from the Valkyrie's generators almost instantly.
"I'm booting up the aircraft's instruments," He informed, turning his head over his shoulder to check up on his co-pilot. "Gunnery Sergeant? Can you detect any fluctuation in the power core on your end?"
Ranka snapped her gaze to look at the screen in front of her seat. It flickered with energy for a few seconds before it finally displayed the Variable Fighter's data. "Uh... I don't think so," As usual, her voice was laced with doubt, double checking the console again, this time, her brain hardwiring her consciousness to all the materials she'd reviewed and trained on back at Mihoshi. "For now, I think the power is flowing steadily across the craft, Irons-san."
Irons was quiet for a couple of seconds, she was more capable in this than he'd thought. "I see, that's good to know," Mused the man after he'd turned his head back to look at his own screen. "We have about a few hours before the operation begins, I trust you can familiarize yourself with the controls by then?"
The diva-now-co-pilot nodded her head reflexively, despite her actions no longer witnessed by the other personnel. "Yes! I can certainly try," She said, allowing a vigorous smile to grace her lips, again, unnoticed by the other pilot, her hands already moving to test the response of the VF's flight controls.
The male in question gave a hum of affirmation. "Good. Please don't be afraid to ask-" He stopped himself short, not wanting the girl to know that he was also unfamiliar with the aircraft. "...Consult with the on-board manual if you have any questions," Irons corrected himself lamely, part of his ego wishing the greenette didn't notice what he'd said just now.
Earning a 'yes' as a response, the two began their work on the aircraft, settling their bodies and their limbs to better study the active-but-still-dormant aircraft. They quickly found out that there seemed to be more to the VF-171T than meets the eye, although it was still pretty straightforward. The pilot controls the navigation and some degree of the craft's weaponry, while the co-pilot handled the Valkyrie's pin-point barrier system, sensors, and also some of its weapons, though, the control of the ship could be handed over completely to either side of the cockpit during emergency situations to which the pilots could override the Variable Fighter's systems for them to control, hence the identical layout of the ship's instruments.
Seconds turned to minutes, and while the digits continue to rise, Ranka could feel an opinion forming at the back of her head. Learning the controls of the Nightmare was surprisingly more simpler... but also much more boring than she'd thought. It's not like she was not interested to learn more about the Valkyrie, but with the accompanying busy sounds of the hangar, it certainly didn't give her any entertainment value. To be fair, she thought that applying her knowledge to use would be more interesting than just repeatedly punching in some keys inside a cramped space, she knew that this was purely because of the fact that they were still standing by, but it didn't mean she has to like the idea.
To satiate her growing boredom, her mind once again traveled to some place else, letting her working brain to go on a short break. The first thing that popped into her mind was the state of the Galaxy Fleet's own diva, Sheryl Nome, to a much more simpler time when she was still a growing teenager, to a time when she would sneak out of school to attend the Miss Macross contest and watch the other diva's concert as a spectacle. It was supposed to be Sheyrl's last show before she returned to the Galaxy Fleet. This was one of her turning points, when Ranka found her own passion for music, and near-infatuation with her soon-to-be-rival for Alto's affection.
If she recalled correctly, back then, Sheryl delivered a grand song that still triggered fond memories every time any semblance of its tone enters her ears to this day.
And so, Ranka started humming, her amber eyes drooping slightly. Her soft quiet melodic voice not enough to tune out the all the busy noises produced from the variety of activities within the Greenwich's hangar, but it did its job to distract her perfectly.
What she didn't realize that the effect seemed to be much greater than anticipated, for it also caught the attention of the other pilot on the seat in front of her.
Irons was somewhat surprised when his trained ears picked up a new voice. It was the voice of his co-pilot, but this time she was not making her usual confused or uncertain speeches, it was the melody of a song he'd heard once, years ago. His fingers immediately stopped whatever they were doing, and his eyes darted back to investigate what how the greenette was faring without fully turning his face. Ranka's face was lightly bopping up and down along with the tune she was humming on, the girl's eyes was half-closed - but despite that her hands was still moving with the ship's controls, and even every touch, tap, flip, push or pull she would make was also in-tempo with the song's beats. It's almost like... she was enjoying herself.
Irons turned his eyes back to the front after a he realized that he'd been staring, probably for a bit too long. His neutral expression turning into a more unreadable one. Hearing the voice of Frontier's savior directly behind him was most certainly a strange experience, but he wasn't sure how to feel about it. On one part, he wanted to silence her or maybe berate her for doing such distracting actions, but the other part of him was also secretly welcoming the voice. It made all sorts of strange reactions to form inside his body, he could see the strands of his hair growing stiff, but afterwards relaxing and even swaying along to the tune of the music. It was the same voice that calmed an entire killer alien race that's not capable of comprehensible speech after all.
Meanwhile, back to Ranka, the greenette was already losing herself to the song that brought her so much good memories, her hums - while still contained to a small volume was going stronger by the second, especially when nearing the refrain of the song.
And then, it was time for the refrain.
"Motteke - ryuusei chirashite deito - koko de kiyuu na faito ekusutashi- kogashite yo,"
Irons's eyes immediately went wide when actual lyrics started to pour out of Ranka's mouth. Multiple electrifying waves were sent out from his nerves, tingling all of his senses and crawled all the way from the top to the bottom of his spine, the pilot's hairs once again went completely stiff. His fingers trembled slightly as more of the melody crashed through his eardrums, completely nullifying all other sounds from within the Carrier's hangar. Then, as if his senses were completely taken over by the melody, his feet rested on the Nightmare's thruster pedals began to drum along the supposed beats, his fingers tapping along to join in as well.
"Tondeke - kimi no mune ni sweet omakaseshinasai motto yoku shite ageru ageru... iteza gogo kuji Don't be late...!"
When Ranka finally ended the song on a rather high note, her brain notified the greenette of her actions, and after giving off a surprised yelped that sounded more like a squeak than anything else, she shut her mouth. The tunes she'd sung certainly weren't enough to beat all the other overpowering noises, but it was obvious enough, at least for someone within a few feet in radius to notice her singing.
"Irons-san!" She quickly exclaimed. "I... I'm sorry, I didn't meant to- uh-" Ranka chewed on her lower lip, not a good time to be stammering. She could already picture the main pilot of the VF-171T turning backwards with fury in his eyes.
Silence ensued for a couple of seconds.
"I... didn't mind it," Irons's voice came out slow and calm, but he sounded like he was also out of breath, he wasn't turning his face around. "But please, next time... be mindful of your surroundings before you start singing."
The man was this close to biting his tongue, he wasn't sure what happened to him, he wasn't sure if loved it or hated it, her voice felt like... an uncontrollable force, or more like... a desire.
A desire for him to yearn more.
He quickly shook his head. He concluded that he wasn't thinking straight, and probably should get his psych getting checked up later.
But for now...
"Hey, if it isn't Harpoon Eleven? Didn't know you'd be carrying Lady M on board your VF as well!"
Songstress, Misplaced.
A Macross Frontier Work of Fiction