The transport craft touched down with a thud, shaking Sam Richter out of a fitful sleep.  He'd hated flying, or rather, being a passenger in a what was, essetially, a cargo truck, and being at the mercy of another pilot.  It didn't sit well with him at all.<br/><br/>"What are you doing here?"  Another passenger asked, a guy who wore the pips of a low-grade mechanic.<br/><br/>"They need a pilot."  Sam grumbled.  "Why they chose me is a mystery."<br/><br/>It was the truth.  He'd spent the last three months in an Intel billet, working in a nice, climate-controlled office, at a nice, comfortable desk.  before that, he was part of the 88th Orbital Interception Platoon, driving GM suits, before the last suit he drove was systematically blown apart by a group of Zakus.<br/><br/>"Things are tough all over, man."  The mechanic droned, releasing himself from the safety harness of his seat.  "No one likes to get shuffled around, but them's the breaks."<br/><br/>"Yeah..."  Sam said.  "Probably want me to drive some piece-o'-shit GM ground-type."<br/><br/>Sam wasn't thrilled with the idea, not when there was supposed to be a new type of ground combat suit, a variatio of the Gundam mobile suit currently in use.  Still, it was a chance to drive an MS, and he'd do what he could.<br/><br/>Twenty minutes after he'd landed, he presented himself to the base's commander, with a sharp salute.<br/><br/>"Corporal Samuel Richter, reporting for duty."