Changing of the Guard
transientharbor:
There was a pause, the personnel on the receiver side processing the information and attempting to cross-reference Volokolamsk’s name. There were hardly any visitors to this lonely harbor in the middle of the Pacific, and those that did visit or were transferred to its shores had itineraries assigned. Still, credit when credit was due, they were professional and the hiccup was almost undetectable.
“HMNZS Rūhia, we have you on scope. Continue your current approach and follow the guide buoys in. An escort will greet you when you are within 5 nautical miles of the port. Your escort for today will be MCRN Grom-welcome to the Remote Pacific Outpost.”
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Grom unwittingly shared the newcomer’s sentiments regarding the weather-she absolutely loathed the heat. Despite her hull being made to withstand even Venus’ hostile atmosphere for short periods of time, the stress of reentry, or the harsh environment of the void, the heat on Earth was utterly unbearable, especially for her human body. She was currently on duty and as such, bore her armor, its internal AC unit working overtime with the “fairies” attempting to keep it running at full capacity. Her HUD picked up HMNZS Rūhia on her own radar as the shipgirl approached the Isle of Misfits, sharp eyes keeping tabs on her course from the sea as she waited by the docks for her cue. By her right side was a weapon that approximated the MCRN’s assault rifle but functioned as her railgun, while her left side had rigging equipped with the bow of her hull and its torpedo tubes. Gloved fingers tapped idly on her armor plating as she counted down the minutes until their visitor arrived at the checkpoint, her fusion engine igniting and propelling her forward while her booted feet skimmed the waves. “ HMNZS Rūhia, I am MCRN Grom. Please, follow me if you will to the docks and debriefing room.”
Looking out on the horizon, the destroyer’s HUD displayed a radar signature at the same time she got Grom’s transmission.
“Copy that, MCRN Grom, I have you on radar. ETA to your location two minutes.” The figure out on the horizon closed at a steady pace, her active fusion engines holding firm to keep her going. She was clad in UNSC cross-branch BDU and CH252 helmet with eyepiece. The weapon in her arms, to contrast, was a Springfield Model 1861 rifled musket, polished and cared for very carefully. Her rigging strapped on around her armor very homogeneously, with thrust located at her center mass and her plated boots, pieces of her hull dispersed across her body as supplemental armor except her right leg, which was clad in a heap of scrabbled-together scrap steel. A welded-on pole flew the RNZN naval jack, and white block lettering across her chest and right shoulder plate identified her as RŪHIA and VOLOKOLAMSK, respectively.
It took less time than she estimated to catch up to the Badhbh-class, and Volley slowed to match the other destroyer’s pace, offering a casual salute.
“Kia Ora, Grom. HMNZS Rūhia, though you can call me Volley or Volo as you please. I’m inbound on orders from orbital command to orient and train UNSC Spirit of Fire for active-duty service.”