Common Area, NSS Nemisis, 1421 Hours, on a Friday
"Some items of interest, children! Stand in line, shut yer beercatchers."
The entire unit had been gathered in one of the common areas of the NSS Nemisis. This, they'd been told upon arrival a few days prior after their mission aboard the Ruby Rose, would be their new home. It was a white-painted Orca-class flagship, commanded by an Admiral. As such, it was a finer home than the Ulfbhert had been by a long shot. Harmonious Solarsailor had its own berth in a separate compartment of the carrier, along with Phase's personal shuttle and a pair of empty spaces. The halls were carpeted, the petty officers tended to smile at passing marines. Actually, just about everybody on the ship at least pretended to smile as they walked around. The mess hall was superb. The bunks were comfortable. There was a full metal shop on one of the support decks that off-duty marines were permitted to tool around in so long as they remained respectful on the frequent occasion that the eccentric Admiral Grigori Kuznyetski appeared among the commoners to add to what appeared to be the galaxy's largest collection of zip guns. With a lit cigarette peering out from the slit of his welding mask, the Admiral was usually given a wide berth-- though he showed an interest in the work of his inferiors, occasionally approaching and asking questions about their work.
Put short, it was the kind of posting that fairy tales and legends were written about. They were a three-week leave on Fortuna away from living in some sort of tale told by teary-eyed Petty Officers in dirty bars on one-shuttle planets in one-airbike towns. They were not, however without their suffering. Aside from Elijah Garvy, who was mustered with his shiny new Corporal patch, just about everybody was in some kind of trouble.
Alistair Thorne had been on strict restrictions for the last few days. At first, he'd been bound to his quarters with no explanation by the Commandant. Then, between being brought meals he witnessed some of the prisoner interrogation-- we won't go into that here. Suffice to say, he was back on duty and assured that for now he was standing at muster with a clean slate.
Eir Nygaard Smith had been released from the Nemisis' medical center the day before. Medical nanites, the miracle of modern medicine, and the best surgeons in the fleet had provided her with a shiny metal arm that worked just as well as the last one but with just a bit more rigidity. Also, it was a real pain to wipe an ass with.
Halcyone, Phase, Beep, and Cloudheart had all been sent the military tactics equivalent of a pamphlet. They were told to research squad teamwork, and be prepared to present what they'd learned.
Black had demanded Domicile's removal from the unit, but because of her status as Auxillary such things were left out of his hands. Command had consulted a Free State representative identified as High Druidess Schemeweaver, and had yet to receive a response. Black played this off by pretending nothing had happened.
Linda Nelson remained unmolested for the time being.
And now, with all of this behind them, Commandant Black was addressing the gathered unit with a datapad in hand and a pair of comically small spectacles planted on his face.
"First off, there's been some restructuring. Fourth Fleet is dissolving into the other fleets. Grand Admiral Valken has stepped down, and some new asshole named Lazarus Clark has taken his place. If anybody asks you kids, we're now officially a First Fleet operation." Black moved to the next item and cleared his throat before continuing, his entire body tense with the formality of the situation. "We've also had a rank restructuring. The list of new ranks is available on your datajockeys. It seems Command has finally listened to my begging and eliminated the P3C rank, but in their infinite wisdom renamed my position to 'Colonel'. Since I liked being a fucking Commandant, you will proceed to continue calling me 'Commandant Black' and only use 'Colonel Black' at your peril. Except you, Garvey."
Something like a smile appeared for a split second as Killroyal leveled a thick finger at Elijah and barked, "Son, you can call me Kill."
When this moment of tenderness passed, Killroyal cleared his throat and the rest of the announcements came out in a droning growl.
"Your sister Smith has emerged from the butcher shop mostly unscathed. Welcome her back to duty and give her a fucking hug when you can."
"Next, the details of our last sortie are currently considered classified until the hacking attacks and the enemy organizational structure have been identified. Try and keep from yapping about it."
"Also, we'll be doing some training for the next while until I think you kids are capable of making combat decisions like pro murderers instead of filthy death enthusiasts."
There was a pause in the announcements as Thaddeus Elway emerged into the common area pushing a cart loaded up with booze and cigars. Trailing behind him was an unfortunate-looking petty officer with a permanent expression of having been put out. The origin of this sorrow became clear when Black gestured to this creature and added with great intensity, "This is Petty Officer Hartley. Admiral Kuznyetski generously turned him over to me when I demanded a personal slave for my unit. If you need anything at all, you ask him and don't be afraid to put him out. It's his job, kiddos."
"You may have noticed some new faces in the room here with us. Introduce yourselves to each other and remember, you're fucking family now so don't piss on each other."
After taking a moment to retrieve a cigar from the cart, Black nodded down his list of points one more time and then tossed his datapad over his shoulder without a second glance, causing it to clatter to the ground in three pieces. Removing his tiny spectacles he finished with a, "Finally, Corporal Nelson, please report to the hangar to receive visiting intelligence agents. The rest of you, I expect in the gym in twenty minutes. Garvey, wrangle 'em."
And then Black left them all in the common room with a cart full of booze, a bored-looking Elway, and PO Hartley, the soon-to-be unsung hero of all their support and logistics needs.
"Some items of interest, children! Stand in line, shut yer beercatchers."
The entire unit had been gathered in one of the common areas of the NSS Nemisis. This, they'd been told upon arrival a few days prior after their mission aboard the Ruby Rose, would be their new home. It was a white-painted Orca-class flagship, commanded by an Admiral. As such, it was a finer home than the Ulfbhert had been by a long shot. Harmonious Solarsailor had its own berth in a separate compartment of the carrier, along with Phase's personal shuttle and a pair of empty spaces. The halls were carpeted, the petty officers tended to smile at passing marines. Actually, just about everybody on the ship at least pretended to smile as they walked around. The mess hall was superb. The bunks were comfortable. There was a full metal shop on one of the support decks that off-duty marines were permitted to tool around in so long as they remained respectful on the frequent occasion that the eccentric Admiral Grigori Kuznyetski appeared among the commoners to add to what appeared to be the galaxy's largest collection of zip guns. With a lit cigarette peering out from the slit of his welding mask, the Admiral was usually given a wide berth-- though he showed an interest in the work of his inferiors, occasionally approaching and asking questions about their work.
Put short, it was the kind of posting that fairy tales and legends were written about. They were a three-week leave on Fortuna away from living in some sort of tale told by teary-eyed Petty Officers in dirty bars on one-shuttle planets in one-airbike towns. They were not, however without their suffering. Aside from Elijah Garvy, who was mustered with his shiny new Corporal patch, just about everybody was in some kind of trouble.
Alistair Thorne had been on strict restrictions for the last few days. At first, he'd been bound to his quarters with no explanation by the Commandant. Then, between being brought meals he witnessed some of the prisoner interrogation-- we won't go into that here. Suffice to say, he was back on duty and assured that for now he was standing at muster with a clean slate.
Eir Nygaard Smith had been released from the Nemisis' medical center the day before. Medical nanites, the miracle of modern medicine, and the best surgeons in the fleet had provided her with a shiny metal arm that worked just as well as the last one but with just a bit more rigidity. Also, it was a real pain to wipe an ass with.
Halcyone, Phase, Beep, and Cloudheart had all been sent the military tactics equivalent of a pamphlet. They were told to research squad teamwork, and be prepared to present what they'd learned.
Black had demanded Domicile's removal from the unit, but because of her status as Auxillary such things were left out of his hands. Command had consulted a Free State representative identified as High Druidess Schemeweaver, and had yet to receive a response. Black played this off by pretending nothing had happened.
Linda Nelson remained unmolested for the time being.
And now, with all of this behind them, Commandant Black was addressing the gathered unit with a datapad in hand and a pair of comically small spectacles planted on his face.
"First off, there's been some restructuring. Fourth Fleet is dissolving into the other fleets. Grand Admiral Valken has stepped down, and some new asshole named Lazarus Clark has taken his place. If anybody asks you kids, we're now officially a First Fleet operation." Black moved to the next item and cleared his throat before continuing, his entire body tense with the formality of the situation. "We've also had a rank restructuring. The list of new ranks is available on your datajockeys. It seems Command has finally listened to my begging and eliminated the P3C rank, but in their infinite wisdom renamed my position to 'Colonel'. Since I liked being a fucking Commandant, you will proceed to continue calling me 'Commandant Black' and only use 'Colonel Black' at your peril. Except you, Garvey."
Something like a smile appeared for a split second as Killroyal leveled a thick finger at Elijah and barked, "Son, you can call me Kill."
When this moment of tenderness passed, Killroyal cleared his throat and the rest of the announcements came out in a droning growl.
"Your sister Smith has emerged from the butcher shop mostly unscathed. Welcome her back to duty and give her a fucking hug when you can."
"Next, the details of our last sortie are currently considered classified until the hacking attacks and the enemy organizational structure have been identified. Try and keep from yapping about it."
"Also, we'll be doing some training for the next while until I think you kids are capable of making combat decisions like pro murderers instead of filthy death enthusiasts."
There was a pause in the announcements as Thaddeus Elway emerged into the common area pushing a cart loaded up with booze and cigars. Trailing behind him was an unfortunate-looking petty officer with a permanent expression of having been put out. The origin of this sorrow became clear when Black gestured to this creature and added with great intensity, "This is Petty Officer Hartley. Admiral Kuznyetski generously turned him over to me when I demanded a personal slave for my unit. If you need anything at all, you ask him and don't be afraid to put him out. It's his job, kiddos."
"You may have noticed some new faces in the room here with us. Introduce yourselves to each other and remember, you're fucking family now so don't piss on each other."
After taking a moment to retrieve a cigar from the cart, Black nodded down his list of points one more time and then tossed his datapad over his shoulder without a second glance, causing it to clatter to the ground in three pieces. Removing his tiny spectacles he finished with a, "Finally, Corporal Nelson, please report to the hangar to receive visiting intelligence agents. The rest of you, I expect in the gym in twenty minutes. Garvey, wrangle 'em."
And then Black left them all in the common room with a cart full of booze, a bored-looking Elway, and PO Hartley, the soon-to-be unsung hero of all their support and logistics needs.