Cyril more or less abandoned his hopes of getting a shower before patrol as soon as the sergeant yelled for everyone to kit up and assemble in the hall. Muttering depreciations under his breath, Cyril hurried back to his bunk and tossed his wash-kit up with his tail. It figured something like this would happen in their mickey mouse little unit, but that didn't stop it from being a pain in the ass. At least it sounded like he might get a chance to flex his technical knowhow, rather then just walking up and down corridors all day.
Wash-kit stowed, Cyril got in line for the tubes. Making pointless small talk with the other marines in the line (how's the station, cigs or cigars, beer or liquor), it started to dawn on Cyril that the tubes were a minor pain in the ass. Sure, it was nice to be able to access kit from anywhere in the station, but for something like kitting out a few squads of marines a wall of lockers might be faster. Never mind what might happen if the system failed in an emergency.
Still, in due time he was out of the line with a brand-new CSS Suit and V Rifle. Leaning the rifle against the wall, Cyril began to shut down and remove his tail (most military kit not coming with more holes then strictly necessary). It was only when he was about to remove the cybernetic from it's socker that he realized that some thoughtful soul had seen fit to equip his suit with holes for the tail. It even looked like the outer plating would form an air tight seal around the damned thing. Not one for looking a gift horse in the mouth, Cyril began to reactivate the mechendrite as he hurried into his armor.
It was a nice fit, apparently the quartermaster was slipping, the under suit wearing just as well as the skinsuit he had used back on Hampton. Clipping the helmet to the armor's backpack, he set his beret on his head and hurried to the hall. Spotting Keziah and Ozzy, Cyril fell in beside them with a sigh.
"Sarge's really got 'is kickers in a knot s'morning, eh?"
Wash-kit stowed, Cyril got in line for the tubes. Making pointless small talk with the other marines in the line (how's the station, cigs or cigars, beer or liquor), it started to dawn on Cyril that the tubes were a minor pain in the ass. Sure, it was nice to be able to access kit from anywhere in the station, but for something like kitting out a few squads of marines a wall of lockers might be faster. Never mind what might happen if the system failed in an emergency.
Still, in due time he was out of the line with a brand-new CSS Suit and V Rifle. Leaning the rifle against the wall, Cyril began to shut down and remove his tail (most military kit not coming with more holes then strictly necessary). It was only when he was about to remove the cybernetic from it's socker that he realized that some thoughtful soul had seen fit to equip his suit with holes for the tail. It even looked like the outer plating would form an air tight seal around the damned thing. Not one for looking a gift horse in the mouth, Cyril began to reactivate the mechendrite as he hurried into his armor.
It was a nice fit, apparently the quartermaster was slipping, the under suit wearing just as well as the skinsuit he had used back on Hampton. Clipping the helmet to the armor's backpack, he set his beret on his head and hurried to the hall. Spotting Keziah and Ozzy, Cyril fell in beside them with a sigh.
"Sarge's really got 'is kickers in a knot s'morning, eh?"