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Post by Jorge Silva on Aug 9, 2014 0:17:23 GMT -5
Janurary 3, 2759
0648 Hours
Silva walked into the mess hall. It was not as crowded as it usually would be, he only noticed a few naval personnel sitting here and there but oddly enough no other troopers. Grabbing himself a tray he went through the line and grabbed a few sunny side up eggs, toast, sausage, grits, oatmeal, oranges, and finished it off with bacon. He grabbed himself a cup of black coffee by the coffee machine. It looked brand new and did not have that foul odor of being old. Slowly he walked over towards a table that no one had sat at yet and began to eat. As usual the holographic televisions were on, one had the news which was talking about the up coming election. Another had a film on, a pre space film “Big Fish” and the final television had some pre paid commercial program that told about why people should come to visit Zanabar. He rubbed his eyes and began to drink the coffee. It tasted good…then again the navy always had the best kind of coffee. On Hades , the coffee was always nasty, and the machine was barely if ever cleaned. There were people who liked to not clean the coffee machines because they liked the special flavor they got from it. Those people should be shot in Silva’s mind.
Who the heck didn’t want to clean the coffee bowl honestly? It had to be clean, if you were going to drink beer (which he hadn’t) you wanted a crisp cool beer, not some beer that had been sitting out in the sun all day long. As he big into the sunny side up eggs, he thought about the new mission. He would know around oh nine hundred hours today. But why did they have to be woken up this early in the morning? This might be the start of a new campaign against the ARM again. Ever since the operation on Sisyphus, the ARM terror network was falling apart. Multiple arrests were being made by people who had supported them financially, supplying them with weapons or people who helped to find recruits. There had been a few smaller scale operations but they had been done by local forces and destroyed smaller cells that ARM had set up. The only other thing he could think of was that wherever they were heading to be the start of a new terror network. If the ARM was dying then something would eventually take its place it was only natural.
The briefing would clear up any questions that he and any of the other troopers might have. He took another sip of his coffee…….
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Post by Slade Stryker on Aug 9, 2014 8:03:26 GMT -5
Slade walked into the mess hall, most of his gear still strapped to his back. He has a lit cig in his mouth, and surveys the scene. Seeing mostly naval crew, he sighs. "Damn bubble heads," he mutters. He keeps his gear on his back, as he moves in line. He grabs a tray, fills it with eggs, potatoes, bacon, oat meal, and a cup of coffee. He smells the coffee, and smiles. He hadn't slept in some time with this BS transfer. The ride here was bumpy, and full of snoring naval personnel. It took a lot not to scream and yell at the people in the shuttle with him. He sat down at the opposite end of what he only assumed was another trooper, and not a "bubble head". He is quiet as he eats, before finally making his presence known. He sized up the other man, and finally found his rank pinned to his uniform. "Morning Sgt." He then stared into his cup of coffee, and took ginger sips. He tries to keep his face neutral, but know he still probably frowned a bit, remembering old wounds.
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Post by Jorge Silva on Aug 9, 2014 22:16:50 GMT -5
An early breakfast.
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Post by Jorge Silva on Aug 9, 2014 22:41:23 GMT -5
Silva was watching one of the ads for Zanabar. He smiled knowing that even if he had time off he would never be able to afford a luxury hotel as they were showing in the advertisement. He took another sip of his coffee and heard the word Sergeant. He looked at the person who had pronounced his rank wrong. What the hell was wrong with this guy? Unless the trooper was not good waking up this early (and it was very early even for military men like Jorge) then this guy must be trying to be cute or something. And it was not working. He was a Staff Sergeant.
He looked at the trooper and said “Staff Sergeant Silva.” He said abruptly. His face showed no emotion. “Your probably asking, why the hell are we up this early in the morning on the Dauntless Fury? I don’t know, no one will know until the briefing at oh nine hundred hours. Now if you want my own take on what’s going on…I think there is some sort of new terrorist organization that while not as bad as the ARM is causing trouble that the planetary military cannot get under control. I bet we’re being sent to Rohan, that place has always been and will always be an unstable place. That Emperor the Rohanians have is probably the most corrupt person on that sorry piece of a rock. And their military is a sad state, the Army and SDC always has to go in and help with efforts to stop terrorist activity. I hope to god we are not sent there.”
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Post by Slade Stryker on Aug 11, 2014 14:41:29 GMT -5
Slade noticed he pronounced the rank wrong after looking again, and missing the bottom chevron. -Damn, gotta get more on top of that- he thought. "Sorry Staff Sgt.," he said shifting his duffle bag full of uniforms and things below his feet. "Honestly didn't know there was gonna be a briefing, I just got here. I turned in my weapon and armor at the armory, and was told to just go get some chow. I need to find First Platoon, Kilo Company. Wouldn't happen to know anyone from there would you?" Slade takes a long drag of his coffee, then sighs. He looks tired, like he hasn't slept in a few days. He starts eating his food again, ignoring the TV's around him. "As for Rohan, I really hope I'm not heading there again. Probably one of the very last places I want to head. Don't get me wrong, if we are heading that way, I'll put boot to ass and not say a word about it, just won't be excited."
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Post by Jorge Silva on Aug 11, 2014 22:36:56 GMT -5
“I’m the Staff Sergeant for First Platoon.” He told him, and took another bite of his eggs, as he chewed he heard the new comer talk more about Rohan. “You can’t get too jumpy about any kind of deployment. There are a few things you will want to know about the platoon. First off, Lieutenant Hobbar is a no nonsense kind of person and won’t take shit from anyone. You listen to him and to me and we’ll take care of you. Secondly, don’t try to be a smart ass around either of us, it’ll embarrass you. And finally after the briefing at oh nine hundred hours go and report to Lieutenant Hobbar’s office. He’ll be processing a few others who have just transferred into the platoon.”
He took a few sips of his drink and began to talk again. “Now I’m assuming that this is not your first deployment and you’ve been around the blocks a few times. You’ll meet the rest of the platoon either in a few minutes because some of us like breakfast, or you’ll meet them after you have taken care of the transfer order from Lieutenant Hobbar. I honest to god have no idea where we are going to. I’ve noticed that your accent is a bit different. Your not from the inner colonies are you?” he said and looked up at one of the televisions as one of the programs went off the air. A new program came on, another paid commercial on why people should come to visit Titan. “This shit gets old after a while, I mean come on. Put some races on or something, jesus.”
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Post by Christopher Reed on Aug 11, 2014 23:01:28 GMT -5
Slowly Reed walked down the chow line, seeing what was for breakfast. By the time he had arrived, the place was just starting to get crowded. He saw some oatmeal that he then decided to get. He grabbed himself a few pieces of bacon, sausages, scrambled eggs with cheese and toast with white gravy on it. He got two glasses of orange juice and walked towards the tables. He then saw a few tables down, Staff Sergeant Silva who was talking to a new comer by the looks of it. Slowly he walked over towards the two who were obviously not paying attention to the world around either of them.
He got closer and sat down right next to the new comer. Staff Sergeant Silva was talking about what not to do in front of either himself or Lieutenant Hobbar. Reed quietly drank his orange juice as the Staff Sergeant continued to talk.
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Post by Wei Zhour on Aug 13, 2014 22:35:13 GMT -5
Wei was surprised at how many people were beginning to show up at the mess hall. He should of gotten here earlier instead of waiting on Lamond. The line was long and as he walked through the line he grabbed himself a plate. He was not that much of a breakfast person, as he saw the food, the only thing he wanted was something that was light. He passed the home fries, grits, hash browns, fruits, oatmeal, grits, eggs, bacon and sausage. He settled in the end for two pieces of warm toast with just a bit of butter on them. Grabbing himself a cup of coffee he then saw Reed, Staff Sergeant Silva and some noob sitting together. He walked over towards them, the volume on the television suddenly grew louder as it showed an interview with a Senator who had never been in any race before. Zhour was disappointed that they had missed the first day of early voting, but there was always next election.
Slowly he sat down next to Staff Sergeant Silva who was talking to the new comer. He looked alright though, and not the kind of person who thought he was hot stuff because he was…..new. Sometimes when a person arrived, either a person from boot camp or had been transferred to this unit, he or she thought they knew it all. Any problem that person could solve in a split section and didn’t need to listen to the old timers who had been with the platoon for a very long time. This guy looked alright. He looked alright. Seeing someone when the time came would prove it though. He was not judging the guy at all, no. He was just making an observation. He then bit into his piece of toast and looked at Reed who was looking at Silva, who was looking at the noob.
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Post by Alex Huxley on Aug 18, 2014 21:44:33 GMT -5
Alex followed behind Zhour into the mess hall, he hoped Lamond and Lucien weren't going at it. His eyes scanned the mess hall, even the place where you ate looked magical to him. Alex knew; however, that after being on this ship for the next few months he would find everything old and boring and he would get sick of it but in the meantime he would relish the beauty. The line for chow was longer than he expected, seemed like everyone had the same idea of eating before the briefing. His father always said that breakfast was the most important meal of the day, it kick started your metabolism and gave you the energy to take charge. The thoughts of his dad led him to think of his family and that just made him sad and home sick. He would hopefully get to see them sooner or later, God knows when his next vid would come in his mail.
Slowly he took a seat next to Zhour, "Morning, everyone"
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Post by Christopher Reed on Aug 21, 2014 21:10:26 GMT -5
ooc: sorry couldn't think of much to say.
Reed sat as the Staff Sergeant suddenly started to talk about the races. He rolled his eyes, the man was always taking about the races and it got to be very boring. When he saw Huxley sit down and say hello to everyone he suddenly thought to himself about the incident that had occurred shortly before they left to check on VL-624. He hoped the mission would be a short and safe one. Huxley from what he could remember stood up to a Captain….or was it a Major? He could not remember which he had heard and hadn’t spoken to Zhour about it. Mostly because Zhour was the kind of person who was usually quiet around others and didn’t talk that much.
“Hey Huxley, what’s this scuttlebutt about you punching a lieutenant’s lights out cold?”
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Post by Alex Huxley on Aug 22, 2014 16:24:50 GMT -5
"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph for the last goddamn time I didn't punch an officer" Huxley slammed his fist on the table. The fact he was sleep deprived made his wrist not to sturdy when he slammed it down and he felt a bruise starting to grow already, "An NCO made a horrible decision and almost got one of his soldiers killed on my watch at the demo range. I had some choice words with the noncom but that was all. No punches were thrown."
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Post by Jorge Silva on Aug 23, 2014 14:50:46 GMT -5
Silva inhaled loudly, looking at Christoper and leaned forward “What did I tell you this morning when you asked me that same question while waiting to board the dropship.” He waited for an answer from Christopher. “Ummmmm what was it again?” he said. “Oh for Christ’s sake Reed you don’t listen when we aren’t in a battle zone. Your great at following orders and listening to what’s being said on the radio. But lord have mercy you don’t listen to what anyone really says off the battlefield. So what are you gonna do?” he said. “Listen.” Reed said and bit into some of his food. “Good…..now apologize to Huxley. Do it.” He said his voice getting a little louder. Christopher looked at Huxley. “I’m sorry Huxley, I didn’t mean to embarrass you like that. Again, I’m sorry.”
Silva looked up as he saw someone off in the distance walking towards an empty table. He was civilian and wearing a buttoned up red shirt, long brown pants and brown shoes. He also was carrying a small personal computer with him. The man sat down a few tables back, away from all the enlisted personel and naval crewmen. “Hmmm that’s odd.” Silva muttered under his breath. Why was there a civilan on board a troop transport? He tried to think of a reason, unless the person was from brass higher up he could not think of why this person would be on the starship. Coming up with a blank he looked at Zhour who had barely touched his own food. “You gonna eat that or just stare at it all day Zhour?” he said. Zhour nodded at him, and Silva got the rest of his food. Zhour then spoke up. “Hey Stryker, your from Zukl right? Why did you join did the economy force you to join?” he said. Zukl’s economic situation was not good, there was a twenty four percent unemployment rate for the planet and many ha been laid off due to a decrease in military hardware being built. A majority of the factories produced military items, the rest produced things for the larger market.
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