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Post by Creator on Aug 5, 2014 23:30:51 GMT -5
Admin Post
Hancock System, Orbit of Stataca, Dauntless Fury
1/3/2759
0430 Hours
72 Degrees Farenheight
The Sparrow slowly came into the orbit of the Dauntless Fury. It was massive if one could see outside…..besides the pilots. There was nothing else visible in front of the pilots or at least what they were able to see with their own naked eyes. Their computers on board stated that there were multiple starships a little farther out, two destroyers and one cruiser. But that was all that was able to be read by the radar that Sparrows had on them. “Sparrow Four please come into Landing Bay Fifteen.” The Air Traffic Controller for the Dauntless Fury said into the ear piece that Elijah had on. The Sparrow moved into position and slowly arrived at a closed bay door. The Sparrow slowly stopped and hung there for a few seconds waiting for the metallic arm to pick it up. The bay door opened up and the metallic arm locked onto the Sparrow and brought it up slowly before the bottom hanger bay door closed. The one above did not open until the bottom had closed. The Sparrow was then lifted upwards again and stopped as the door below it closed. Finally once that had closed the third and final door opened.
The Metallic Arm then lifted the Sparrow up and the door closed as the craft cleared it. The craft was then lowered ever so gently to the ground. A naval crewman was standing in front of the ramp as it lowered, as the troopers got themselves up and out of the seats. “Welcome to the Dauntless Fury, please follow me to your berth!” he shouted.
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Post by Ian Devson on Aug 6, 2014 14:09:19 GMT -5
Ian thumbed the release on his harness as soon as the door started to lower standing up and grabbing the rest of his gear that had been wedged between his legs of the flight and slinging it over his shoulder. With all of the confusion and the chaos form the night before followed by the call to arms Devson had not had a chance to report into his commanding officer. He had taken note of the First Lieutenant as he called out order to the sparrow, filling away the man's likeness in his mind to give him his transfer orders to when they reached the ship in orbit. Stepping off the ramp of the sparrow and slightly to the side, as to not get in the other troopers ways, he waited for the Lieutenant. When the Lieutenant stepped onto the ramp Ian offered the man a salute his other hand pulling from his bag his complete record and transfer paper work. "Sir Private First Class Devson Reporting for duty."
Ian had always hated the formality attached to transfers and red tape, but he was not going to sidestep protocol just because he did not like it. He was not gonna take the chance of slipping through the cracks with a big mobilization like this, he had already made a mistake not delivering the papers on the landing field or the night before for that matter, he was not gonna hold off until there was no time left and make things even worse for himself.
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Post by Michael Hobbar on Aug 6, 2014 20:32:41 GMT -5
Hobbar slowly unstrapped himself from the harness and stood up. He did not like today one bit, especially what would be in store for the platoon. He was going to have to calm everyone down after the briefing which he knew no one would like at all. But he was in the military and would do exactly as he was told. He was not going to question the orders given to him. Watching the platoon get out of the Sparrow he walked forward with his helmet under one arm and his sea bag under the arm. Today was going to be a very long day. The fact that they had to wake up the entire company at oh three thirty hours was not what bothered him, no which was just part of being in the military. When one was told to get up you got up.
As he walked down a private came to him, showing him some papers. He told him “Devson come and see me after the official briefing which will be held at 0900 hours this morning for now go to the berth. After the briefing I’ll look over your papers…..Staff Sergeant Silva!” he then said a little loudly. The short man came up to him. “Mission briefing at oh nine hundred hours make sure the platoon is on time. It would not be good if they are late, trust me.” He said. He walked off slowly to the deck only seeing a few other Sparrows here one was being repaired and another had just dropped its own ramp with the passengers coming out. The deck was for the most part empty…at least at the moment. It was going to be a long week….
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Post by Elijah 'Havok' Thomson on Aug 7, 2014 7:55:45 GMT -5
Elijah stretched in the seat as the Sparrow was lowered onto the deck. "Well that was fucking boring." He moaned, they'd had flight controls bound to the designated path for the vast majority of the journey meaning there had been no opportunity to enjoy himself. He unbuckled himself from the seat and eased himself around the chair to the door that led to the hold.
Exiting from the hold he stepped out into the hangar and gave himself a little time to adjust quickly to the artificial gravity and processed air that came as standard on all starships. He figured there would be some time to catch a few more hours sleep before the briefing.
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Post by Berlioz Lamond on Aug 7, 2014 8:08:49 GMT -5
Keeping his head down, Berlioz grabbed his duffel bag and helmet quickly before walking down the ramp of the Sparrow into the Hangar. He had forgotten how the air tasted, but it was still familiar in the same sense. The faint metallic tang reminded him that this was going to be 'home' again for awhile. There was nothing he had to turn in, so he made his way towards the Infantry Berth, assuming that as the ship had been in orbit this entire time, there bunks would likely be in the same place.
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Post by Lucien Vinigan on Aug 7, 2014 10:26:29 GMT -5
He unstrapped himself and got up while grabbing his duffel bag and helmet. He walked outside the sparrow and took a deep breath and looked around the surroundings he had been at so many times before. He found one of his cigarettes and rested it between his lips feeling that he should find one of the places he was allowed to smoke, normally he could go awhile without but with this boring a trip he felt like it was almost necessary to not get insane. "An hour to breakfast... hm" he mumbled to himself as he walked off himself towards the armoury to hand in his weapon and armour before going to the infantry berth to take his usual bed before one of the new guys took it.
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Post by Xara Shawcross on Aug 8, 2014 6:41:52 GMT -5
At least she couldn’t complain about the length of the flight. The paradox of space travel was that it actually took far less time to get anywhere than it did planetside. Either you were doing short hops or you were freeze-dried.
Xara was one of many in the cramped Sparrow. One of many PFCs, she amended mentally. These were mostly new recruits from what she could gather and not a Terran amongst them – many looked nervous – as they should be, she supposed. They had no idea what sort of abusive treatment they were about to receive at the hands of their peers and superiors. New fish were for the baiting after all.
Except now, she too was a new fish – and a non-commissioned one at that. Frankly, it was insulting and infuriating. It wasn’t as if any of this was her fault, after all. Yes, she saw that it made sense to have her sent away till the furore had died down, but off-earth? As a fucking Private? In a USC unit? Clearly, the King – and it would be the King – had decided to make an example of her rather than side with the family against the press in the first place.
As if that would protect him from them if future scandals arose. If Xara had her way, she’d execute the whole bally lot of them and quote lines about “free press” as they danced a fucking jig on Tyburn.
She bit her lip, ignoring the soldier that was making eyes from across the other side of the Sparrow. If there was anything more unattractive on a woman, it was combat fatigues – hardly figure enhancing. Anyway – this was it, this was her lot and she’d have to crack on and deal with it – until the end of her ToD. Then, fuck this, them and everything else. She would not live out her days as a PFC at the arse end of the universe; she would either make it back to the Royals or she’d quit.
The Sparrow bumped to a halt and there was the usual rustle-click-and-bump as people got out of their safety harnesses and got their kit together. The outer doors began to open.
A naval crewman was standing in front of the ramp as it lowered, as the troopers got themselves up and out of the seats. “Welcome to the Dauntless Fury, please follow me to your berth!” he shouted.
Xara shouldered her bag and did as she was told, trooping out at the rest.
Other soldiers were milling around, old hands and officers, all giving the new fish the baleful eye. It had been fun when she was the one giving the eye, but enduring hazing and long speeches about how new people were worthless for a second time was going to be tough going. And of course, once they found out – and they would find out – that she had been transferred, it would be worse. She’d have to listen to endless hours of how and why UCHD was so much better than the RMC because men always wanted to enter into a pissing contest about what unit were you were from.
Hopefully, there’d be some women in her platoon so at least there’d be someone who wasn’t interested in knob-gags, farting and the endless competition to just how foul a human-being’s feet could smell. Maybe it was something in the boot-leather that reacted with male extremities.
One of the FNGs had the balls (and naive stupidity) to go up to a Lieutenant. “Sir Private First Class Devson Reporting for duty," she heard him say. She moved on – the Lieutenant kept talking – she imagined he was delivering a bollocking because they’d been told to get to their berths.
Xara glanced at her watch – almost breakfast time by the look of it. She wondered if they’d get any of if they’d miss it whilst stuck in “orientation.”
She needed a cigarette.
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Post by Lucien Vinigan on Aug 8, 2014 16:37:37 GMT -5
He was about to leave when he noticed one of the new privates in the unit, something about her seemed familiar but he couldn't quite remember what but he knew she was new to the unit so least he could do was say hi while trying to remember. He walked over to Shawcross and gave a polite nod "Welcome to 1st platoon, names Lucien Vinigan I'm the unofficial official welcoming committee" he offered a slight smile knowing that by now he had said hi to many people coming in to the company he wasn't sure why he still tried, and it was far from everybody he got to greet but as long as at least a good part of these new guys survived it would be a good thing.
"Now you look like a person who might have questions or one that's blaming someone for something" might be the lack of food he thought to himself feeling a bit awkward when it came to social interaction with people but here was for hoping for making friends or at least try.
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Post by Michael Hobbar on Aug 9, 2014 17:10:23 GMT -5
Landing Bay
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Post by Alex Huxley on Aug 9, 2014 17:43:13 GMT -5
Alex gathered up his bags and stood in line, awaiting to leave the craft. The trip was smooth for the most part and gave Alex several opportunities to gaze over at Parker and smile or go over his medical readiness drills. The fact that they were woken up so early, shoved on Sparrows, and flown to the magnificent Dauntless Fury before their lips even thought about touching breakfast was enough to know that something happened and something serious at that. Regardless of what happened these next few hours Alex knew he was soon going to be in combat soon. Combat brought forth casualties and Alex was going over everything he would have to do in situations that may arise. What would he do if the casualty was hit and had a collapsed lung, what to do if the artery was severed ect.
All these thoughts; however, left his head as he stepped of the ramp and onto the Hangar Bay deck of the UCS Dauntless Fury. Even the Hangar Bay was amazing, he couldn't imagine what the rest of the ship looked like. His pace quickened as he followed the voice of the crewman who was going to show them where they would be staying for the foreseeable future. That's when he heard Vinigan talking to one of the new females.
Alex laughed almost in Vinigan's face, "Welcoming committee? Ain't that a load of horseshit. I didn't get so much as a hello when I stepped off the ship a few months ago. Shit, he still hasn't said a damn word to me. It's because you got something between your legs that I don't" Alex continued to laugh as he kept walking past them.
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Post by Xara Shawcross on Aug 10, 2014 6:25:35 GMT -5
Xara – along with her fellow FNGs – shuffled along, heading toward the berths. She wondered briefly if PFC Devson was still being chewed a new one by the Lieutenant. That was the one thing about a classless society – people didn’t know their place. Order required that people were diffentiated by class – otherwise there’d be too many chiefs and no Indians to do all the work.
Bitter, bitter irony that she herself now found herself as part of the working class one of the Indians. Not in terms of money, education and – most important of all – breeding. But by her situation; the whole thing was a punishment designed to humiliate her. The King knew full well that having her drummed out of the Forces would result in a public backlash against him. But sending her here… on duty, but diminished – it was a brilliant move and if she was being objective, she’d have admired him for it.
Except she didn’t particularly feel like being objective.
A voice snapped her from her reverie. "Welcome to 1st platoon, names Lucien Vinigan I'm the unofficial official welcoming committee." Xara stopped and looked at the man’s uniform, seeking a rank and wondering whether she should salute. But it was apparent he was a lowly private such as herself. The hazing, she assumed, was due start early.
Xara was about to answer when one of her fellow FNG’s spoke up. "Welcoming committee? Ain't that a load of horseshit. I didn't get so much as a hello when I stepped off the ship a few months ago. Shit, he still hasn't said a damn word to me. It's because you got something between your legs that I don't"
Xara arched an eyebrow. "You don't strike me as the jealous type, but I'm quite sure that there are plenty of naval personnel who'll have no issues bending you over a bulkhead popping one up your arse, Private. If you're feeling bereft and lonely."
The PFC stalked off laughing.
Vinigan spoke again “Now you look like a person who might have questions or one that's blaming someone for something.”
He was tall, skinny and had odd-coloured eyes – she wondered briefly if this was a genetic defect or an injury. She wasn’t quite sure how to play this – she looked past him, seeking his mates. She wasn’t going to allow herself to be set up by the bloody proles; however, there didn’t seem to anything amiss. “I’m Shawcross,” she said, jerking a thumb at the stenciled patch on her fatigue pocket. “No questions per se. Well, other than where we’re berthed and where I can get some scoff. As for blaming someone… I’m hardly here by choice, but then again who is? I’m quite sure I’ll cope.” She smiled slightly. “It’s not like any of us really have choice not to, eh, Private Vinigan.”
Private Vinnigan. She cursed inwardly – she would have to stop thinking – and hence speaking – like an officer or she’d be outed in no time. Of being outed she was sure – however, no sense in accelerating what was bound to be a trying experience.
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Post by Lucien Vinigan on Aug 10, 2014 17:33:54 GMT -5
His otherwise happy face was quickly turned to a neutral expression. He was surprised at Huxley's random insult. Vinigan hadn't noticed that it could seem like him trying to get laid because it certainly wasn't meant as it, although it was true he hadn't greeted him but it was the same the other way around not even at the Christmas party even if he hadn't been very talkative there. He assumed that Huxley was just a green soldier with a weird sense of respect for his mates.
Vinigan had trouble not smiling amused as Shawcross talked back to Huxley, it was a pretty nice come-back one he wouldn't really had considered himself in similar situations. He gave a thankful nod at Xara.
He listened as she talked not really thinking much of her having looked past him, she was probably just looking at who else was in the hangar. As she said she wasn't here by choice he arched a brow curiously "I'm here by my own choice, I volunteered for this unit..." he started out knowing that quite a few actually had joined up because they wanted to. "And no need for calling me private.. Just Vinigan or Lucien..." he stated despite knowing that some of the other privates also spoke to him as private or Private First Class which he always found a bit odd.
"But on the most important note, yeah.. You can follow me if you'd like since I'm going to lay down my bag in the berth before someone steals my hammock... And foods starts around seven in the mess but heading that way myself later.. I can also give you directions if you'd like" he offered politely while trying to think of the name Shawcross, although for now it didn't quiet ring a bell.
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Post by Stephanie Amberson on Aug 10, 2014 21:59:14 GMT -5
Stephanie was more or less not following in line what was going on other than just reporting herself. The woman either kept to herself or had something to spew, in this case it was to keep to herself. Well that was until Vinigan said something about someone stealing his hammock. "Vinigan you are the lowest rank on the list, of course someone is going to steal your hammock" she commented snidely. She was of course just teasing him but Stephanie's voice had a way of grinding just right to get on peoples nerves. She had a smirk hidden behind her features as she approached. Right she was alone this time they had not given her a new spotter and Madden was on leave after his little stunt over vacation. All she was going to do was await orders. Right, like there was anything else to do beside pick on Vinigan.
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Post by Xara Shawcross on Aug 13, 2014 10:22:18 GMT -5
"I'm here by my own choice, I volunteered for this unit..." he started out knowing that quite a few actually had joined up because they wanted to. "
[/font]Xara regarded him for a moment - she should, she decided, button her lip when it came to her reluctance to being here. After all, many of these people would be proles with no better opportunities.
""But on the most important note, yeah.. You can follow me if you'd like since I'm going to lay down my bag in the berth before someone steals my hammock... And foods starts around seven in the mess but heading that way myself later.. I can also give you directions if you'd like"
"Sounds fabulous, thanks," she said. They were about to move off when another trooper interrupted.
"Vinigan you are the lowest rank on the list, of course someone is going to steal your hammock."
Xara turned to see the newcomer. She was tanned and skinny, but her stripes meant a commentary would probably not go down very well. Still, these two seemed to know each other and Xara wanted to be anything but the gooseberry. "Don't worry," she smiled at Vinnigan. "I'll sort myself out - make sure I actually do get a bunk. Sergeant," she nodded to the NCO before shouldering her bag and following Alex "Mr Personality" Huxley.
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Post by Lucien Vinigan on Aug 13, 2014 20:28:29 GMT -5
He looked at her for a moment, she seemed to be thinking about something when he mentioned he had volunteered. There was something odd about her, the way she acted and talked. As she accepted his offer for him to show her around he nodded and was about to turn around and he heard another voice that sounded like it was trying to mock him he turned around and noticed Amberson, he hadn't really talked to her for awhile.
He turned back to Shawcross and nodded "Sorry, I'll try and catch up to you by the berth or mess" he returned her smile before looking back to Amberson "ah.. Sergeant Amberson, it's the second lowest rank" he started, after all he wasn't just a private any more first class had been added to it "Haven't spoken to you for awhile, hows things going over in your section?" he asked curiously not really knowing much about what the snipers did, the only one he really knew was Amberson.
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