Of Faulty Beginnings (Petra!)

[Marina Auito]

The small Similie tilted chaotically like a leaf in the wind as it roared into the Simoun hangar. It swerved once, twice, sending a spray of idle mechanics scurrying like mice to the safety of the sides of the hangar. A soft crackling murmured from the large helical motor. It escalated into a low rumble at the folding of the single flat rotary disk, producing a brief high-pitched squeal when it came to an almost ill-fated stop. The white-haired pilot inside uttered a curse under her breath. No sooner had she flipped up the canopy and coughed had the wheel gave another deflated crackle. She hadn't meant to steer into the hangar haphazardly like that. The small aerial craft had just lost control at an attempt to land it on the large landing deck outside. It seemed to have had a mind of its own and had refused to cooperate; swerving out of control then taking a sudden jerk to the side. This had been the only safe path for it.

"Old craft..." She muttered. Catapulting herself over the side of the cockpit with ease, she slipped down onto the now folded wheel and bounded off in an elegant swirl of silken white hair. She needed a mechanic; a skilled technical to examine the issue at its root. The craft was old - there was no doubt about that. Perhaps the motor or the steering system had faltered in it. She had heard a pop and saw a puff of smoke from somewhere when training. Oh, the monotony.

Stepping away from the faulty Similie, she swept her one-eyed gaze across each oily face of the startled technicians. Foreign eyes gazed back at her. Where is she...? "Petravol?" She called. "Petravol, are you present?"

[Petravol Hasek]

At the call of her name, the black haired technician was quick to call out. "Present," she mumbled as she stepped out from the crowd of startled mechanics, her sharp golden eyes narrowed on the face of the Regina; irritation coursed through her, but only at the sight of the damaged Similie. With a quick footed stride, she approached her. "You request of me, ma'am?" She saluted, form stiff and well=practiced as she performed a formal greeting to her superior. Throwing her hand back to her side, she nodded.

<i>'What was she thinking? By the Goddess, this thing looks like a piece of junk! Always needing me to fix something, these officials...'</i> Petravol thought bitterly, but said nothing under the watchful gaze of the Regina. Her gloved hands itched to pick up a tool and start working on the old craft.

[Marina Auito]

"This craft is in need of repair. It was stated to be of good working condition before I went out." The albino Regina started, gesturing to the craft. Small streams of smoke had begun to leak from its ornamental metal body. "It's aged well past its prime." She added. She appreciated Petra's sense of superiority towards her, but it still felt foreign. Like she didn't deserve the powerful title. It was something she would eventually have to get used to, she guessed.

There was no one to blame for the incident in this situation; the Similie only had one cockpit, therefore, only one mind in control. Nor could the blame be piled entirely on her? Maybe, if it hadn't been for the obvious mechanical failures. The Dux had informed her that the Similies were old, but also announced that they should be still able to function properly in order to fly. It was not like she had been pushing the machine too hard either. It obviously had seen better days.

"Can you fix it?" She assumed a more relaxed stance, yet kept her back stiff and head high. Even her heels had elevated slightly off the cement floor. Maybe it looked a little prideful or perhaps of vanity. Though that had not been her intention in the slightest. She was merely compensating for the scene she had just caused; surely, one of the mechanics amongst the dispersing crowd was aiming the barrel of blame at her. Loaded or not. The image was to be the slightest intimidating as to ward off any of these possible false thoughts. The single blue orb drifted back to Petra's livid gold ones.

[Petravol Hasek]

Petra had been watching her intently, eyes trailing her as she gestured to the steaming craft. No shit it needed work, but she was surely up for the challenge. The woman shook her head and stalked over to the craft, one hand resting on her hip, and the other on her chin as she inspected the Similie. "Of course I can fix the bloody thing," she addressed her, turning around to face the albino figure. "Nothing's impossible with Petravol around, but I must ask: how can you wreck such a simple machine? It is so easy to fly, so it wouldn't be simple enough to just avoid dangers all together?" The black haired woman sounded almost as if she was reprimanding, but she was far form it. Shrugging off her comment, however, she went about to analyzing the damage.

"It would seem the cockpit glass is a bit shattered; the main helix will definitely need repairing since that blew out; and the frame is suffering from overheating and internal flames. I'll probably need a few days to get it back up and running, but thinking about just how old it is," Petra turned her sharp eyes onto her with an eager intent, so excited to be in her element, "you might just want to scrap it all together. Can't keep having accidents, now can we?" She finally turned herself to look at her, gaze locked onto the Regina's face. She shuffled into her pockets, and pulled out a bundled set of tools.

"Your call, ma'am."

[Marina Auito]

No doubt she had struck a nerve. It didn't seem like Petra's best day either. Though Marina couldn't help but marvel at the gleam that came into the mechanic's golden eyes as she asserted her confidence with a fiery passion. It was like watching the sun break through the clouds after a month of endless rain. A rare spectacle to marvel at.

Then came the inevitable question that stung like a fire. It was generic and expected, of course, but the Regina couldn't help but shoulder it as a blight of soft criticism. A blow to her Auriga piloting talent. She managed to keep her white brow in a neutral arch as she spoke, "I lost control of the craft when trying to land. The helix failed to fold correctly and intercepted with the wind velocity, making it swerve out of control and nearly crash." Maybe nearly was the incorrect word, but it had already slipped past her lips and couldn't be exchanged.

She felt slightly embarrassed because of it, and almost deafened her ears to the issues with the ship, but forced herself to listen regardless. The scrapes and issues were no surprise to her. She expected that much of an old craft consented to fly without first being properly checked. She wasn't even sure maintenance had been performed on it since a few months before they were to board the Caelum Prima. Her skillful mask cracked upon the presence of dismantling it. Scraping a helical motor craft... Even if it had no emulation nor connection to Tempus Spatium itself. She just couldn't do that.

"I would appreciate if you could try your best and repair the craft. It would be a shame to dismantle it, as we do not have many." She answered finally. That put her a little more at ease. She felt her mask melt back into its blank scowl. Much better. Granted it would take a longer time to repair the craft this way, but it was overall more moral in the light of Tempus Spatium. Besides, she was sure someone as confident as the technician could do it. She didn't know much about her, but she did hold her in a fierce area of respect. Though she would never allow herself to openly show that. Yet, at least.

"Is that adequate?"

[Petravol Hasek]

Petra nodded in agreement as she listened to her tale of destruction and brief crashing, and even if she knew it was nothing more than a mistake, she couldn't help but shake her head in dismay. It was always a pain to repair more than was necessary, but sometimes it was needed, and she was always the technician up for the job. With a brief glint in her eyes, she saluted her. "Will do, ma'am. I can see what I am able to repair on this craft, so I would advise you to be patient," Petra spoke as she turned to address the situation one last time, hands digging further into her pockets to bring out another set of tools.

"I do believe repairing it would be the best answer, despite the waist of time, because you are completely correct about the dwindling numbers; every day I repair one of these ships, and I fear we may lose them for good. These are a blessing," she rubbed a hand against one scratched surface, "not something so easily made out of metal and air." Petra peered into the polished metal, and noticed the form of Marina in the background, her white appearance standing out so predominantly.

"I completely, and utterly agree, with your proposal, ma'am. I will get started right away." Petra announced, and started climbing into the cockpit to get a better look at the internal controls.

[Marina Auito]

Patience. Why, Marina exuded patience like a river. She was no stranger to it, nor ever would be. What needed to be done needed to be done, and there was no way around that. Especially in difficult times like these. She was happy to hear, however, that the mechanic would fix it. Not as happy with the shake of the head she had received, though that, too, was inevitable.

Petra was correct, and the wisdom about her stance made Marina look upon her in a slightly higher light. It was pleasant that she shared the same mutual view. The last war a mere century ago had robbed them of countless Simoun and Simile. They only had what the High Council had stashed away under quiet pretense from the end of that bloody war. Consequently, the Simile were old, and while the Simouns were in working shape, there still posed the danger of exposing this secret to opposing forces who had teamed up to destroy Simulacrum for good. Why, the Regina had no clue. All she knew was that there was a duty to be completed, and the Choirs had to fulfill it for the sake of their nation. For Simulacrum and future Sibyllae alike. For their futures.

"Thank you, Petra." The Regina skirted around the smoking Simile to watch the mechanic climb into the cockpit. She actually found it fascinating how the mechanics worked. While she found it almost personal taboo to watch them work on a holy craft, that fascination never distinguished fully. She was aware that she was now perching on her toes and quickly grounded herself, pretending to be interested in her faint reflection in the opaque metal of the craft. Such childish acts would only embarrass herself. She was maturing fast; even more so with her position. She would soon be a full-fledged seventeen-year-old and be granted permission to travel to The Spring to choose her sex. She had to admit, it was a bit of a scary thought. She looked to the working woman high above her in the cockpit. Petra has already made her journey and decided... I should ask her sometime about it, should I ever get across to that.

Shifting awkwardly next to the busted helix, she hoisted herself up onto its ribbed edge to get a better view of the repairing process. "How's it look, Petravol?" She inquired far over the woman's shoulder.

[Petravol Hasek]

Petra seated herself into the cockpit of the smoking Simile, eyes narrowed as she studied the internal controls and steering. At times like these, it greatly reminded her of her times back in the Choir, but that was a history long since passed, and something she would just have to forget. The woman did, however, allow herself a fleeting glance at the Regina below, just to take a moment to image herself back in such a placement. 'What I wouldn't give to be back within the Choir, though it is worthless at this point', she made a point to herself, and proceeded to start working on the busted craft.

The mechanic swept a lock of black hair out of her face as she leaned closer for a better look, and, when she noticed the damaged controls, pulled back to click her tongue distastefully. At the call of the Regina's question, she answered dutifully. "Well, it's not going to be pretty, I'll give you that," she spoke up as she swept her gaze across the board another time before continuing. "There is definitely some damage within the wiring, and I believe I'll have to replace the entire control board and system all together. But, between you and me," her head poked out of the Simile just a moment as she addressed her in a low voice, "I say this thing will only make it through another five or seven flights before its ready for the scrap heap. I mean no disrespect, but upon analyzing it, it looks nearly there." And with that, she started to her work.

Wiping out a slender wrench, she proceeded to loosen and taken apart the interior of the cockpit's controls to get to the wiring beneath.

[Marina Auito]

Marina's emotionless mask remained stoic when the mechanic turned to look at her. She assumed her was recalling her own personal time as a Sibylla. Standing in her own shoes looking up at some skillful mechanic prepared to fix whatever mechanical fault or failure had inhibited their craft. She couldn't help but wonder what her time as a Sibylla was like. Surely, it must have been a significantly calmer than this warring mess. What position had she held? Who was her partner? Did she fly Auriga or Sagitta? What was her experience at the Spring like knowing she could no longer fly a sacred Simoun? Those were all questions to be pursued at a different time, should she utilize them to her imminent fancy.

Nearly there? This Similie... She looked at the old craft then back up at the mechanic, keeping her jaw in a hard line. Even if it was true and there would be no further use for the training ship later on, she still felt disgusted with the future for it on hand. It was still a disrespect to Tempus Spatium in the fullest, not that she fully was devote to the deity's existence herself. She produced a soft coughed to dislodge any hesitation from her voice. It had to be done if that was truly what would become of it. She didn't want to argue with such a trained mechanic either.

"I suppose you are indefinitely correct with that analysis. It would be more of a disgrace to push the craft to its own destruction rather than eradicate the problem sooner..." A fragment of disappointed had entered her voice, though she kept it well hidden by quickly altering her tone, "Although, it deserves to see one more flight. Even if it will never be fully functional in the proper way again."

The mechanics words were respectable, they truly were as an entirety. Yet she felt just a bit angry. Angry at herself, perhaps, and maybe at Petravol and just natural decay of idle objects. It dissolved quickly after a brief severance of gaze from the craft. It was like a beast of burden now, downed and fated to whomever chose to end it with their hands. "Would it be possible to preserve the helix in any way?" She inquired, curious.

With Plumbumish and Argentiam forces in possession of nearly all the Simoun and Similie helical motors and crafts themselves from the previous war, it was vital to utilize any source of helical power they could achieve. Simulacrum was operating under the table to issue these sacred helical motor craft and once again see to it that they fly to pave the way for peace and freedom. The fact of how the Simoun were viewed as of now by High Council warheads, however, made the Regina want to spit.