Home Away From Home [Open]

[Berlioz Lamond]

Having almost managed to walk into the armoury instead of
his intended location, Berlioz finally made his way into the 1st Platoon's
berth. Hardly anybody was here, obviously people had things to be doing which
was fine by him, the fewer interruptions he got then the happier he'd be. The
bunks here weren't much different to what he was used to. A simple, single bed
made of a thin mattress, a single pillow and an equally thin cover. At least
the familiarity was nice even if it didn't offer a particularly good night of
sleep. He dropped his bag at the foot of an unclaimed bed and sat down on it.

Despite his desire to not be spoken to, he knew that he
needed to talk to someone eventually. If he was going to be here for any length
of time then getting to know at least one person would be necessary, even if
trying to keep them alive just so he didn't have to lose them like everyone
else. Several of the beds in this berth remained unclaimed, giving off the
impression that either there weren't as many transfers as he originally
thought, or people died more frequently than he liked to think.

[Michael Hobbar]

Shaking his head, he should of known that something else was to happen today. It was near 1800 now but it didn't matter. A hour after Hobbar had returned from the workout room, he'd been told by Franks that a new transfer had arrived and was looking for him. Except he'd told this guy that Hobbar didn't like to be interrupted while working out. It was good that Franks told him. He hated to be interrupted while working out. After taking another shower and changing into fresh clothes, he headed over towards the bunk room where the platoon was stationed. Opening the door, he found that it was empty, save for the snoring Staff Sergeant Silva who was pratically dead. He saw the transferee sitting on a bed. He didn't know the name but he did know the rank. "Private." he said in a loud voice. "I need to see your papers for transfer." he said.

[Berlioz Lamond]

He hadn't been sitting for long when Lieutenant Hobbar walked in asking for his papers. Having expected to meet him soon after arriving he'd made sure that everything his new CO would need was all together in a thin binder. Knowing that not a single person ever enjoyed having to comb paperwork, he thought to make this process as painless as possible for the both of them. He reached over to his side and picked up the binder, looking over the Lieutenant for the first time properly. All Berlioz needed to see was that this man didn't look like the type to mess around and that was enough to settle him down.

He stood up and turned, coming to attention. "Private First Class Berlioz Lamond, reporting for duty sir" He extended one hand with the binder out towards Hobbar and saluted with the other. First impressions counted and he didn't want any of the officers here on his case about being negligent to their command. In his experience if you want to be taken seriously above your rank you had to treat those above you with the respect they deserved. He hoped that was the same situation here on the Dauntless.

[Michael Hobbar]

Noticing the salute, Hobbar stood at attention and returned the salute. The salute was very sharp and crisp. "At ease Lamond." he said and looked over the new recruit papers'. It was impressive that the private had decided to place it inside of a folder rather than give him a stack full of loose papers. People always made hard copies of everything no matter what, especially in the military. But that also meant that he would of also had a data chip inside the folder....which he did. He was impressed. "Alright it looks like your with first squad. Get settled here, talk to the members of the platoon get to know them. You have free clearance for almost everywhere in the starship, just promise you won't head up to the bridge and cause a scene. We have a week's leave for now, the captain should inform us of our next mission if we do get one after this week."


Silva was still snoring in the background. "And don't mind the staff sergeant he's been up since 0400 this morning. He's friendly and easy to talk to...and the platoon sergeant. Sergeant Godfred is in charge of 1st squad so take up any questions you have with him. If he's not around then see Silva. And only if it's extremely important then you come to me. Understood?" He said smiling. He heard something fall and saw that Silva had actually landed face first onto the cold metal floor. Who was somehow still managing to sleep. "Like I said he's been up since 0400." and rolled his eyes. The staff sergeant might be short but lord knows there's a man who can stand up to the enemy. The platoon bay was empty mostly, people had either gone to work out or were eating in the chow hall. Hobbar made sure that he'd check up on Reed once he left this area, knowing how it felt to be shot.

[Jorge Silva]

An hour after Hobbar had left, Silva slowly woke up. He noticed that his eyes were out of focus right way when he opened them up and saw the dark grey floor. Slowly he realized that he was laying on the floor. He got up and looked around and saw a new person in the barracks. Most likely a transferee. After he dealt with his own problem he'd then go and talk to the transferee. Going over to his bunk he grabbed a fresh shirt and put it on. He rubbed his eyes and sat down on the bunk getting his thoughts together. Looking at his watch he realized it was now 1934! How long had he been out? Well he'd been up since 0400 so he did deserve to sleep that late. True he did. He also realized that perhaps instead of getting something to eat he could unwind somewhere where there weren't that many people...then again it was late. He pushed those thoughts aside.


Getting up from the bunk he walked on over towards the new recruit. Hopefully he hadn't just arrived this very second. Did the lieutenant already talk to him? If he did then Hobbar already told him most of the stuff he'd say anyways. But if not he'd be ready to say it just in case he hadn't. He remembered being a transferee a few years back. Not knowing anyone in the platoon, always trying to remember their names. Who to ask for this or that, where to go and anything else. Those first few weeks were a real pain for him and he knew that this transferee would be going through the motions just as he did. Well hopefully he would be a little better than Sergeant Amberson and her scene on the bridge everyone remembered that! Walking up to him he said. "Staff Sergeant Silva, platoon sergeant" looking up at him and held out his hand, smiling. Being short he always had to look up at people but it didn't bother him. Anytime people first saw Silva they got the image of a jokster. But once they saw him throughout the day they'd realize that he was a excellent non commissioned officer on the field and off. Always trying to help in any situation and could hold his own in a fire fight, sometimes it paid to be short!

[Berlioz Lamond]

After the Lieutenant had left, Berlioz had set about packing the little gear he had away so he could at least find it later on if need be. After deciding he wasn't hungry enough to go to the Mess Hall, taking some time to just relax seemed like a sensible option. It was only his first day here, he'd seen his CO and had no orders to speak of aside from 'Get settled here' which was easy enough. If there was a week before their next mission then there wasn't much time for him to just be idle. He'd have to ask someone if there was an on ship firing range, it'd been sometime since he had been able to practice and getting rusty before a mission was the last thing he wanted.

He heard a noise near him and saw Staff Sergeant Silva slowly get to his feet and move over to his bunk. Berlioz paid no more attention to him after this, despite the Lieutenant's comment about him being easy to talk to, bothering senior personnel for an entire day wasn't on his to-do list. If the Sergeant needs me for anything then I'm right here and he can ask, he thought. As if reading his mind he suddenly found Silva standing next to his bunk, grinning at him. "Staff Sergeant Silva, platoon sergeant" he said, extending his hand out to Berlioz. He looked at the hand for a split second surprised by the informality, I guess that time for talking to people is here already then, he thought. He took the hand, noting the Sergeant's rather firm grip even by his standards. "Private First Class Lamond, I look forward to serving under you Sergeant" He said quietly, putting on a slight smile so not to look completely out of place. There was easy to talk to and then there was this. This was something Berlioz was out of considerable practice with. Being nice to people.

[Jorge Silva]

Jorge noticed that PFC Lamond's grip wasn't as strong as his own. Silva thought to himself 'At least he's friendly' and thought of Zhour, the engineer. Zhour was great on the battlefield, but off it Silva realized that he liked to be alone and was a little unwelcoming of people. "I'm sure you've had one hell of a long day. Sorry if you came in while I was sleeping, our last mission started around 0500 and I'm exhausted. It was a mission that almost went south. Got really hairy too when the ARM units destroyed the bridge as we were about to take it, and then the counter attack. " he continued on. "I'd go on forever with these war stories, surely you've had similar experiences? Sorry if no one is here at the moment their either getting food to eat, working out or something that I can't think of at the moment. " Silva started to walk over to his bunk and went into his personal bag and found a small mirror.


He took a quick look at himself before placing the mirror down. "Get yourself settled in. Lord knows when the captain will have our next mission , could be next week. Or hell it could be next month for all we know!" he said and started to walk towards the door. "I'm going to the hanger deck , it's usually not crowded around this time of the day. Just promise you won't barge onto the control room of the Fury please?" Silva always had liked going to the dropship bay during the maintenance time looking at all the neat things. If there was an operation going on then he'd know because of the amount of troops before the bay in battle gear. Hopefully that wouldn't be the case this time. It was always a great place to escape everyone.

[Berlioz Lamond]

"I'll be sure not to sir" He said as the Sergeant walked around the corner out of view. That was the second time in a very short period of time that he'd been warned about going onto the Bridge, was there some kind of issue with personnel going places they shouldn't? He thought it was practically common knowledge that the Bridge of any ship was off limits to anyone aside from Bridge personnel and senior officers . However if it was apparently a sore point here he'd do his best to stay clear of that particular part of the ship.

He sat down on his bunk again, he really should have been expecting this, expected people to want to say hi and all the rest. If wasn't to become some kind of outcast here then he needed to keep up appearances and stay in everyone's good books. Having decided that there wasn't really anything left for him to do here, Berlioz began to make his way to the mess hall. Maybe getting something to eat would pass the time and then he'd have a look at the Workout Facility, see who was there. He needed to ask about that firing range as well, also find out if there were any decent close-quarters practitioners here too, a good, solid sparring partner was hard to come by these days. So much to do, at least I've got a lot of time to do it, he thought to himself.

[Jorge Silva]

08/2/3358
1345 hours


Silva walked into the enlisted barracks and sighed. He'd just completed another simulated combat excercise that Captain Jones had set up for the company. Trying to run in trenches was not the best thing to do. He pushed those thoughts in the back of his mind and headed over towards his personal locker. Everyone had their own personal locker to the left and right when they walked in. His was on the right, as he opened up the locker he saw that a communication packet had been delivered. A communicatin packet was a small flat silver square which could fit into one’s computer, personal or not. He saw that it was from his sister. Well about time! The last he heard from her she sent him credits since she lost the bet. But no matter, hopefully it’d be something cool. Jorge loved his sister dearly and she was his best friend. They did just about everything together.

Closing his locker he headed towards his bunk and got out his personal computer. He could of used the one attached to the bunk but it was still military property and he usually did personal things off of it. Who wanted the Republican Intelligence Agency or for that matter the Special Investigation and Information goons looking through your stuff? It was still a matter of concern for Jorge, he would never trust the Special Security branch of Human Corporation. Sliding in the packet into the drive, he put in his password and username before his sister’s face appeared before him. Well looked like she actually sent a video this time and not just text! But then he began to listen to the message


“Hey Mom, Dad and Jorge. Just sending you guys a special letter , don’t worry I’m not sick or hurt. I’m fine and today we had a major break in a long running case. But I can’t say anything about it nor will I but let’s just say it’ll help decrease crime. No I’m sending this as a special message to you all because I’ve found someone. I’m going out with my partner who happens to be a woman. She is the sweest girl in the world, knows how to make me laugh and is there when I need her. She’s always suggesting new ideas for dates, and is accepting of who I am as a person. And I love her. I really do love her, she’s a great person and has become someone very close to me and I to her. Please, accept me for who I am. I’m still the same Isabella who likes to Tango in the early hours of the morning. I still love spicy food and even though Jorge hates me for it I still like the racer Schultz. I’m the same person as I was at the beginning of this message…but I’ve found out that I’m attracted to the same sex. It’s probably one of the reasons why I never dated a boy before even after College. I love you all so much you have no idea. I’ll see you later guys, love you!”

The video then cut to black. Jorge stared at the empty screen and his mouth was open wide. He couldn’t believe his own ears. This had to be some sort of mistake…there must have been something encrypted in it. There was no way...no way his sister was a lesbian. A lesbian! Why? Why did she do this. Didn’t she go to any confessions when this feeling of being attracted to the same sex came to her. It was a vile thought! How could anyone say they were Catholic but gay? He shook his head and slowly said to himself “No….no….she can’t be she can’t be! SHE CAN’T BE SHE JUST CAN’T!” He then shouted then remembered that the room would probably be full of the rest of the platoon any moment now. So he quieted down and instead for the next two hours screamed inside his head. ‘Dosen’t she realize she will be dammned to hell for all eternity? She’ll be damming her own soul. And what of mom and dad, how will they take his? Why oh why was she basking in sinful acts! She’d been shown the path all her life…and now this? No…no…no. She’s not my sister anymore. No more.’ Is what he thought in his mind during those two hours, he quickly got out his own recording device and made his own response.

“Isabella by continuing to act in your sinful lust you have already dammned yourself to hell. I will pray for your soul that you turn away from these….perverted acts. How could you do this…what about the rest of your family? Don’t you want to be in heaven with us with the lord Jesus Christ? I will be praying for your soul, I don’t want you to go to hell, nor your…….girlfriend.” he shuttered when he said that. “Until you turn away from this life of sin. You are no longer my sibling, you are no longer my sister. I disown you. You are a sinner and will go to the bottomless pit of hell for all eternity. You can change your way Isabella. Please please please for the sake of Jesus and yourself, turn away from this sinful act that you’ve found yourself in. Turn away from it, don’t go near it, run from it. Or if you prefer to be with the heathons then that is your descision and not mine. He then paused and said slowly: “You.Are.Not.My.Sister.Anymore. And you’ll be in hell because of this perverted sin.” h said and turned off the recoder. A single tear came rolling down his right eye before he closed it and went to deliver the packet to the mail room. Isabella was no longer his sister. If his parents accepted it..then they’d be damned to hell as well, not just her. No she could never be his sister again. Never.

[Berlioz Lamond]

Berlioz didn't make a habit of interrupting people while they were busy, but it was hard for him to not on this occasion. He stood with his back to the closed door of the berth while what sounded like Staff Sergeant Silva finished his tirade. He'd only been standing their 5 seconds before he'd heard enough to set his teeth on edge, he was glad he'd only heard the closing lines before silence fell and Berlioz turned around, opening the door and walking in without saying a word. He kept his head bowed and didn't make eye contact with the Sergeant as they passed each other.

He simply walked past to his own bunk and laid down before pulling a small tablet computer from a pouch that hung from the bed frame, flicking it on. I genuinely hope he doesn't think that he'll come back to find any sympathy in me, Berlioz thought to himself as he attempted to distract himself by checking the few news pages that he trusted. He didn't have any siblings, he didn't know what it was like to have brothers or sisters but Berlioz knew that if he had them, then rejecting them, regardless of what they had done would never have been possible.

[Wei Zhour]

Walking down the hallway, Zhour felt refreshed as he came back from the shower. Three hours before he was in the gym working out and worked up quite a sweat. As he walked down the hallway he wondered when they'd finally capture General Sneer. Scuttlebutt said that they might be deployed to an asteroid field but such things were best not to ponder on. He knew that General Sneer was the Republic's worst terrorist leader. How would he react when he was finally captured by the members of the military? Zhour just wanted the bastard to be captured. Then maybe the war would wind down. Well whatever happened happened, he couldn't change anything. As he neared the barracks, Staff Sergeant Silva passed him not even looking at Wei.



He passed quickly but had a very angry expression on his face, like he was ready to yell at someone. What had happened since he’d been in the berth? Did someone do something stupid recently? Oh great if someone in the platoon did something fucked up well Hobbar’d hear about it. Lord only knows what someone did, Reed probably did something stupid. Walking into the berth he saw Berlioz sitting down looking at his personal computer. People had the choice of using the one at the foot of the bed, which was in the wall. There were three little walls around each bunk and the foot of it had a built in computer. Other people used their own computers for use. As he walked in, Zhour said to Berlioz “What the hell happened? A few hours ago, the Staff Sergeant wasn’t pissed. Did Reed say something or do something stupid again?” he asked and bent down to get his sea bag from under his bed. Putting his utilities away he wondered why the Staff Sergeant was so upset.

[Berlioz Lamond]

Berlioz knew that talking about senior officers behind their backs wasn't exactly a punishable offence, but the clearly sensitive nature of whatever Silva had been shouting about was something that he needed to take into consideration when Zhour asked him what was wrong with the Staff Sergeant. I don't even know the whole story, all I know is that Sergeant Silva is angry with his sister to the point that he has disowned her, the thought making him flinch slightly as he considered his words carefully. If Zhour decided to try and talk to the Sergeant about whatever was wrong he didn't want it to come crashing down on his head, he hadn't been here nearly long enough to grow that kind of positional security.

"I don't actually know, he left as I came in. Didn't say a word to me, looked very upset about something just like you said". Berlioz knew that Zhour would push him further but he really wanted to leave it at that. Ranting about the personal beliefs and opinions of others was a fast way to make yourself a general target for everyone as he'd seen other people do it on several deployments. Loudmouths would always end up as the punchbag of the platoon.

[Wei Zhour]

"Hey as long as you didn't do anything stupid. Let's just hope that the lieutenant doesn't found out. I swear if Reed did something I'm gonna kick his ass." He said as he put his personal utilities away. "You gotta be an idiot to make the Staff Sergeant pissed. Whoever did it is gonna get killed. I do wonder what that person did." Zhour then laid on the bunk and looked up at nothing in particular. "I hope this deployment is over soon. I hate General Sneer. As far as I'm concerned he should be spaced, not even given a trial. Spaced is the only thing that bastard deserves. If it wasn't for him..." he then stopped. There had been too many attacks to name. But he had heard that the Jankul virus that struck Hadamarad might of been an ARM attack. The facts were cloudy but what was known was that the virus had been created in a lab. If the ARM had the capability to do that one more time but on Earth itself.


He shook his head. Spacing was the only way to kill the general. Spacing was a death sentence, capital punishment for both civilians and military courts. It had been carried out since the early 2300's and was the preferred method of execution. They would space the person, and then pick up the body to be buried somewhere. Why was he even taking up weapons against his own government? The motive at least what was known was that something caused him to suspect that Human Corporation had killed his wife. But those were the only details that he knew of. "You think we're gonna win the war?" he asked.

[Berlioz Lamond]

Zhour clearly was a man that had no troubles voicing his opinion, but that was probably because the majority of the other Troopers knew that in a fight they'd probably be beaten down in less than a minute. Berlioz remembered the ache after his single sparring round with the trooper. But that didn't make him right, not in the slightest. Berlioz may have signed up to be a soldier but he sure as hell didn't sign up for some of the shit that the higher ups had made him do, or at the very least made him watch. But starting a fight with a fellow trooper this early in his deployment here was the last thing he should be doing. So he kept his mouth shut as Zhour continued.

However the last question was one he could answer without a major concern to his personal standing. He sighed and lowered the tablet onto his chest, staring up at the bottom of the bed above him. "From a face value, we were going to win the initial stages of this... war I guess, from the day it started. We have more men, more and better equipment and generally more support. There is no way that this ends with General Sneer coming out alive or at least free. But even when the General is dead or captured, even when every single enemy base and camp is wiped out of existence, that hatred for the HC and everything they've said and done will still exist."

He took a breath, thinking over his next words. "Splinter groups will emerge, seemingly from nowhere, ready to carry on the General's mission. Blowing up civilian buildings or attacking military installations, this campaign is a ball set rolling that won't stop with the General. People are beginning to see the hypocrisy of it all, at first they might not agree with ARM's methodology, but after time, when the HC's actions begin to affect them, then they start to see things from a different light."

He looked at Zhour from the bed and said with an unerring chill in his voice, "There won't be an end to this war until one side decides it has lost. Now when do you think that will happen?"

[Wei Zhour]

"That's never gonna happen. As long as the Corporation is the only company around people are still gonna kill. It's gonna end some day I mean nothing goes on forever. Well I just hope we capture General Sneer, that bastard deserves to be spaced. Who the hell bombs crowded streets just to destroy a S.S. building? Freaking cowards, you remember around this time last year when ARM attacked Wells city by taking control of the train lines? Filled them with explosives and sent them into other stations or parts of the city that had lots of S.S. or SDC personel. Killed eight hundred and forty five people, that’s not including the city hall attack a few hours later that killed fourteen members of the Martain government. With everyone concentrated on stopping the trains, thirty ARM members disguised as civies or aides had killed the members point blank. Hell I wouldn’t doubt if they were the ones responsible for releasing the Jankul virus on Hadamarad a few years back.” He then sighed. Zhour was growing impatient with this….conflict. He decided that it would be better to talk about something else instead. “First thing I’m gonna do when I get out of the Corps is become a software engineer. I’ve always been good at computers. Writing code isn’t that hard if you know what your doing…. I’d like to be a boss. Go to work everyday and people will say 'Yes, sir' and 'No, Sir' Now that…that’s the life. Getting fifty thousand credits a month. Go to some space races, hell even get to finally see the Solarian Race that’s held every year!”

Zhour smiled. He had four more years until his term of service was up. Personnel within the Special Drop Corps had four years before they could reapply for service. Of course if a military situation called for it he could be locked in until a large conflict was over. “I think we’re gonna win. Not to mention I’m sure the Corporation is gonna do some changes. God I love the combat armor they have on. Why can’t we get that? “ He then sat up and got onto the personal computer that was at the wall near his feet. Getting onto the net he typed in something and saw something interesting. “Hey….get a load of this. On Republican Day ISN is gonna be in New Oslo for the celebration. Wonder if they will be interviewing the general. It dosen’t say which reporter they will be sending. I don’t think we’ll see them. Do you have any plans on after your four years?” Zhour then turned the computer off and went into his sea bag. He pulled out a sheet of paper and a pencil and began to draw.