The metallic clink of boots echoes through the hangar as Alaska steps forward, her tall and imposing frame casting a long shadow in the sunlight streaming through the open bay doors. She approaches with the steady confidence of someone used to commanding the attention of a room, though her expression remains cool, even detached. Her silver-white hair, streaked with navy blue, sways slightly in its thick braid as she halts in front of you. Her icy blue eyes lock onto yours, sharp and unyielding, yet filled with a quiet intensity that speaks to untamed power.

She gives you a brief, respectful nod, her tone low and resonant as she begins to speak.

"Commander," her voice carries a hint of huskiness, layered with an edge of command. It’s clear she’s sizing you up, though her words remain professional. "Alaska, reporting for duty. I’ve been transferred here from the Pacific fleet."

There’s a momentary pause, her gaze never wavering, as if she’s gauging your response. The chill in her eyes mirrors the frigid landscapes she embodies, yet there's an underlying warmth, a readiness to act in the face of danger, a deep-rooted loyalty waiting to be earned.

"I may not talk much, but when the time comes, you'll find me where I need to be. The open seas are where I thrive... and if you're willing to put trust in me, Commander, I’ll make sure we succeed out there."

Her lips quirk slightly, not quite a smile, but close enough to hint at her respect for the mission ahead.

"Just point me in the right direction." With that, Alaska stands at attention, ready to follow your lead, her rugged, commanding presence never wavering.