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Post by Michael Hobbar on Jul 27, 2013 21:12:27 GMT -5
Stepping into the mess hall at this early in the morning, Hobbar only expected a few people to be present. Was he ever wrong. There were hundreds of people here. From the looks of it most of them were troopers. But he wasn't concerned about who was here, he decided to get something quick to chow on. Stepping into line he saw scrambled eggs, hash browns, oatmeal, sausages, more sausages, biscuits, donuts, bacon, grits, fruit and other items. He only grabbed a handful of donuts and got his morning Titan style coffee. Coffee had become interstellar and was no longer grown on Earth due to the amount of time it took to process. The different planets each had their own brew and even though Hobbar was from the outer colonies, he swore that Titan coffee was the best sweet coffee he ever had. He'd never even been to Sol. It was a light black color and he poured just a little milk.
He sat at a empty table that for the moment was being passed up by the others. As usual the holographic televisions played something. There was a program on some wildlife on Rohan. Another television had a paid commercial which featured a new shampoo that cured baldness. And ISN had a special about once again the ruins of Mars. He sighed. The science team hadn't reported that much to the public, the government was debating with itself when to reveal the contents of what was inside. What was known was that someone had built it, but as to who had, well it was not discussed. He bit into the doughnut and thought about the mission. Why didn't the navy bomb the AA turrets and then send in the Starfurys'? It was stupid and whoever decided the plan was sound wasn't thinking. Then again he wasn't in charge of the operation. If he knew protocol well and he knew it, then the first thing the other regiment would do would be to shut down the gravity for the station. It'd disrupt the enemy a little in battle, so it'd do something. Taking the landing bay would be one of the toughest things though. For all they knew the thing could have heavy mechs!
He shook his head. Best to think like this now than plan for it later. If he worried over it...well. Hobbar took one final bite of the donuts and a sip of the Titan coffee. Throwing his tray away he walked out of the mess hall and headed toward the armory.
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Post by Jorge Silva on Dec 1, 2013 16:58:23 GMT -5
It was around 0200 when Silva walked into the mess hall. The mess hall was always open all year round. And it was this time of the night when people got hungry for snacks. Or in this case, the munchies. He was in shorts and a t shirt. The hall was not crowded at all, there were only maybe fourteen people eating in here. He grabbed himself a tray and went through the line. Bannna pudding, jello, pies, pies and more pies. Chocolate pudding, cookies, and other desserts were all there. He then grabbed himself some chocolate lava cake, chocolate cookies and some jello. He also grabbed himself some hot chocolate, he hated coffee with a passion. Sitting in a empty seat he looked at the three large screens above the mess hall.
One showed some boxing show, another had a documentary about mining on Mars and yet another was glued to the political debate back on Earth. The Council was going back on forth whether or not to impeach the speaker which only the Council could do. "Better them than me." he whispered to himself. All the crap in politics was not worth it one bit. As he ate his pudding, he thought about what they had accomplished in this war....conflict. He couldn't really say this was a war at all. Counter terrorism was more like it.....or rather perhaps a rebellion? Trying to call it something right now as just a waste of time . What could he tell the people back home what he saw here? That people were crazed lunatics who killed themselves not to be captured by anyone? He just couldn't understand how someone could willingly take their own life. A coward did that.
Silva thought to himself about why the war was being fought. He couldn't really remember a time of peace, there'd always been the ARM during his young adult life. The ARM would always exist. Or did it really have to? Why couldn't the politicians do something right for once and put Human Corporation in it's place? Well maybe if they were the ones who went to fight and die then they'd be less willing to go to war, or commit the police action. No it wasn't a war, war was between nations. This was a guerrilla war, the most ugly of them all. Innocent people could come up to you and explode, no one knew where the next target was or who was next. Terrorists in his mind were the lowest of cowards, not even worthy of the deepest part in hell itself. Taking a bite of the pudding he sighed to himself. Well once they got back to Stataca maybe everything would take care of itself. After all they' just defeated an entire planet worth of ARM...well he shouldn't say that. The Army was still down there mopping up, a few islands hadn't been taken and over half of the asteroid bases remained. But the SDC had pulled out, as had some of the naval force. It was now purely a army operation. He hoped the planet would be taken soon, and the rest of the system secured.
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Post by Wei Zhour on Dec 12, 2013 14:54:32 GMT -5
Walking into the mess hall this early in the morning, Zhour knew he was not gonna sleep . No matter what he tried to do, he always just lay in bed not being able to sleep. So instead of just sitting there wasting his own time, he decided to get something to eat. After all it was around 0200 and barely if anyone was in here. Getting in line, he got himself strawberry pudding, a cup full of mini brownies and a very large bowl of fruit. He then went over to the drink machine and got himself some tea. Looking around the hall he saw Silva sitting alone eating something. He then started to walk over to him.
Sitting down, he looked and nodded at Silva who only looked up once at Zhour. It wasn't as if he was not there, the sergeant as well as Zhour wern't up for talking at the moment. As Zhour dug into his mini brownies he thought about what had occurred almost twenty four hours ago. He couldn't get it out of his head. Inside that room....someone had died a horrible death. Did they even have the time to scream as they were killed? How could someone.....even kill a fellow human-being in that matter? There was a code of honor in the military...but even the ARM was militaristic. How did someone justify killing anyone like that ? If General Sneer allowed something like this to occur within his organization than it may be fractured inside. But was it really?
Seeing the floating body in that small room, only a very tiny room in the entire space station, was astounding to him. Out of the entire station, that little room was the only one that seen gruesome violence. Yes people did die...but to cut off someone's head? Looking at his bowl of fruit, Zhour tried to push it into the back of his mind. And it did...lingering in the darkness. Turning his attention to the giant holographic screens, he saw a commercial for another energy drink. Another television had on a hunting show and another had a ISN report on some sort of new phone. Turning back to Silva he wanted to say something. However it would be best if he just stayed silent after all the man had his reasons for not talking.
His mind then went back as to why someone would kill another human like that. Zhour knew that the ARM were terrorists. Blowing up cars in crowded streets near SS buildings or local governments. Hijacking trains, starships and then killing them, and destroying whatever was near by. The ARM were always always ruthless in their tactics. They always said they were fighting for humanity but from what Zhour could see, they were hypocrites. Killing anyone to get to their goal: The elimination of Human Corporation. They weren't some group that wanted peace. Killing was all they'd ever know how to get their way. No negotiations had ever been tried, or the ARM hadn't. He couldn't remember them ever trying to have a meeting of some kind. It was always the government that tried to but never could.
Zhour then decided it'd be best to let it go...if he ever could. But how could he get that image out of his head? He couldn't.
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