Log:First Order: Giant Walking Tanks
FL-5114 fails to step on any TIE Fighters. Seriously!
OOC Date: February 15, 2016
Location: Bayuir
Participants: FL-5114, FN-4126, First Order
Sitting in the pilot's seat of an AT-ST, FL-5114 stares quietly at the controls. He's read the manual. Twice. But...this is something new. Something very, very new for the Stormtrooper. He's not even an older stormtrooper, he's practically newly graduated. But... "Giant robot..."
His internal monologue slipping out briefly, FL-5114 looks around the cockpit slowly, waiting to see who's been assigned to today's mandatory lesson.
Clanking on the roof announces the arrival of this lesson's practical instructor: FN-4126. Fully armored, the Sergeant clambers down into the cockpit, sighing and settling into the gunner's seat.
And then she notices who her student is. "Giant robot, yes. Welcome to the All-Terrain Scout Transport, Zoom. It's not quite /all/ terrain-capable, but it does okay if you know what to avoid. Ready to show me what you've learned in class?"
Also armored, FL-5114's helmet tilts up and he recoils just an inch backward to indicate his surprise, "FN-4126... You?" He sounds...a bit confused. And touched. Possibly also humble. He looks down at the controls, "I have always wanted to pilot one of these things... Ever since first laying eyes on one. 30 years old, and it's practically brand new." He looks up nodding, "Ready, ma'am." He doesn't start it yet, however. That command hasn't been given yet.
"What, surprised to see me as an instructor?" That might be a hint of a smile in the armored woman's voice. "I'm not, most of the time. I'm standing in for a friend who had to get recertified himself today."
She gestures to the console. "Get us going. We don't have a lot of time on the field, and if we're not moving, you're not learning. Just watch your leg clearance and the bay traffic. We're the slowest thing in here, and the hardest to stop once we get moving."
Flipping several switches and priming the reactor with a flick of the protective shield around a large red button, FL-5114 breathes life into the golem as the AT-ST awakens with a jolt. Strapping into the seat, the stormtrooper gradually eases the throttle forward, his boots resting on the maneuvering pedals. His gauntleted hand rests lightly on the control stick on the right side, which controls the movement of the head and its guns. With a single, ponderous first step, the AT-ST starts to trot out across the field, wobbling and lumbering as it goes. "Easy, baby..."
"Mind the markers. We're working alongside two other walker crews," Rhona advises. "Going across the lines means risking a collision. We've got a lot of room, so that shouldn't be a big deal, but don't get careless."
She taps the sensor panel. "In the field, you've got to watch out for other walkers and our own troops and vehicles. With the limited field of view the walker has, this is your best friend. Practice watching it. You'll notice it's marking the positions of the other walkers out here with us. Try to keep some space between us and them. Bunched up walkers are artillery targets waiting for something to fall on their heads."
She turns her eyes forward, adjusting controls. "Watch ahead for the targets. Right now, we're just practicing maneuvering. Get the hang of avoiding obstacles... like those we're coming up on now," she adds hastily, realizing she's talking more than paying attention. "Watch your speed. Slow down if you have to. Don't worry, your ground speed'll get better with practice."
Keeping the mech moving slow and steady, FL-5114 nods his head slowly, eyes locked ahead. He flicks his attention down to the sensor pad occasionally, trying to get used to doing so before he forgets. "Right... Going slow. Going slow." Swallowing hard, the trooper helmet turns quite often, just a few degrees down and to the side. "...Can't hardly see in this thing unless I'm looking straight forward. No wonder the crews wear those grey outfits..." Pivoting the head about slowly, the entire assembly jerks and swings, swaying them about a bit. Then he practices just moving the guns, watching the targetting panel ahead.
"See what I mean about the sensors?" Rhona doesn't elaborate, just watches the terrain in front of them. "Not bad so far. I didn't feel any stumbles. Maybe you're actually learning something in that class." She might be teasing him, but the helmet doesn't offer any clues.
She indicates the course ahead. "Now for the fun part: Tall obstacles. They're easy to see, but they can obstruct your vision of everything ahead. They also don't always show up on sensors, so you've got to keep your eyes open in more than one way. Stay sharp, think ahead, and watch your throttle."
Grimacing through his helmet, FL-5114 continues to flick his gaze back and forth between the looming obstacle course and the little blips on the minimap. Pressing down the right pedal, the AT-ST suddenly lurches aside, turning to go around one of the columns. "So, this thing is All-Terrain, right? How do I step over things like...logs and boulders? How do I ford a river?" He almost looks over, but quickly changes his mind, helmet going straight forward!
"Stepping over things is harder than going around them, and it can put the walker off balance," Rhona explains. "It's better to go around unless you've got no other choice. But if you have to, you can lift the legs higher." She points out the relevant controls. "Just... be prepared to catch yourself so you don't fall over. It's easy to overbalance."
She looks back forward, to judge the distance to the tall duracrete columns ahead. "Rivers are tricky. The easiest way to get across is to find a shallow spot and walk through it. If there's a bridge, use that if it'll hold the walker's weight. You learn to judge by eye, once you've had to do this a few times. If there aren't any good shallow spots, you might have a problem if you can't find something less shallow but suitable. You don't want to get into water up past the knees: You can't see what you're stepping on, and if you fall over, the current might carry you away if you don't drown in a flooded walker."
FL-5114 leans further and further and further back against the command couch as a column looms near... But there is no collision, and he exhales audibly through the suit's vocoder. Depressing the opposite pedal, the stormtrooper begins to navigate the course steadily. "Okay, yeah... I think I've got the hang of this thing." Suddenly an alarm goes off, and FL-5114 looks around in alarm, "Whoa, whoa, what?" Spotting a blip on the minimap, he abruptly brings the walker to a halt as the tell-tale *WOOM* of a speeder announces the arrival and prompt departure of a joyriding officer. Another pair of speeders streak and scream past, bearing Scout Troopers in hot pursuit. "...That was close."
"Steady... whoa!" Rhona ducks, wincing at the sound of repulsorlift drives going by /way/ too fast and /way/ too close! "Nice moves, Zoom... take a second to catch your breath if you need it. Hopefully the Gavels'll snare his ass," she mutters, looking after the two biker scouts with their Provost Marshall insignia on the shoulder plates. "That idiot'll get someone killed. Probably herself." Sharp eyes she's got.
"Wha?" Peering out the window, FL-5114 strains against the straps. "How can you even tell??" Shaking his helmet, FL-5114 powers up the walker again and heads out of the columns, wandering along the course, "All right, now what? Think they'll actually let me pilot one of these babies full time? Ha."
"You get used to looking for the right signs," Rhona replies, a little wearily if no less cheerfully. "It'll come, with practice, just like driving this headless monster. Keep working in the simulators, and you could maybe make a full-time job of this. I think you've got the chops for it."
She gestures to the sensor screen. "Here, take us to this marker beacon. All you've got to do now is take us back the way we came. This time the clock's ticking... and yes, we do take points off for neatness." Rhona folds her arms over her breastplate and leans back in her seat. "The tricot gloves are off now. Impress me, Zoom."
"I thought..." His voice is a little distant. "I thought we could never leave the Corps..." But, with her encouragement ringing in his ears, FL-5114 furrows his brow. Driving the throttle slowly forward, the stormtrooper powers the AT-ST into a fancy trot to the Nav Point, at which time he turns...and faces the course. Driving the mech forward, the trooper helmet completely masks the grim determination...and beads of sweat on the man's face.
"We use these things, too," Rhona reminds Zoom, falling silent as he begins the course again. She realizes quickly that he's pushing the machine. "Easy... you're doing fine, but don't push too hard."
The AT-ST moves steadily, though, stumbling once on a turn and another time on a large rock that hadn't looked that large before. But the massive machine is making good time!
Easing back just a bit, FL-5114 nods silently... Taking a deep breath, he starts to manipulate the foot pedals, starting around the duracrete columns. "One... two... three..." And turn. The nimble walker wanders arond the obstacle course, and his eyes flick once or twice to the minimap...just in case. Everyone else is on their courses, no joyriders... Easy and steady.
The walker steadies under Zoom's hands as he works the controls, gaining confidence and steering through with space to spare. There are no more stumbles, the huge machine striding easily across the field and towards the last nav marker.
In her seat, Rhona sits up a little straighter. "Just nose us into the parking slot, and turn us around. We won't be the last to use this walker today."
Slowing down once the huge, rumbling, swaying machine has cleared the obstacle course, FL-5114 lets out a huge breath, as if he'd been holding it for the entire slalom. Panting a bit through the vocoder as he catches his breath, the trooper works the pedals carefully while keeping the throttle at nearly zero, trying to turn around in place, "Come on come on come on..."
And then it happens: The walker's toe catches on a half-buried rock, and the machine trips and lurches, stumbling as it loses momentum and balance in the turn.
Rhona's hands move like lightning, quickly taking the training walker's auxiliary controls. Even then it's close: She nearly takes it over onto its face instead of righting it. A little breathless herself when the walker comes to a stop, she sighs in relief and leans back in her seat. "You okay, Zoom?"
FL-5114 is sitting ramrod straight, but the face of the helmet betrays little emotion. It's only the tight, clipped response through the vocoder that lets his tension show, "Yep. I'm good. So. Hey. Eh heh." The helmet turns towards her, "That was pretty close, huh? ...You'd think they'd put some repulsorlifts on these things just in case."
Rhona casually swats FL-5114 on the shoulder with a guantleted hand. "More sims, Zoom," she replies. "There'll be other checkrides. Just watch that maneuvring in place, and you should be fine... 'til we start you on gunnery, anyway. Then things get... interesting."
She points up a the hatch. "Go on. I'll get this monster set up for the next run. And for what it's worth, nice job up 'til the end."
A heavy sigh and FL-5114's helmet tips forward. But as she comments on the rest of the exam, the helmet comes up. "Really?" He rubs a shoulder pauldron, working his arm. "Gunnery, huh? I can do that..." Almost shifting into talking to himself at the end, he unbuckles from the chair and stands, opening the hatch. Pulling himself up through the top, he ducks back in briefly to call out, "See you then, ma'am." The hatch slowly starts to tip forward and clips him on the back of the helmet with a clang, eliciting a series of curses as it bangs shut after bouncing off him. A few moments later and the hatch screws closed, and more curses can be heard from the window vents.
Alone in the cockpit, Rhona allows herself a throaty chuckle, harshened by the armor's electronic amplifier. "I named him right," she murmurs, shaking her head. "Wait 'til Gunnery Sergeant HV-1759 meets /this/ trainee."
