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RP: 4th Fleet (NSN) [Mission 5.3] Debriefing and Preparations

Sigma

Sigma

Inactive Member
Mwigflukbajik

The 4th Fleet had ended that day's hostilities in victory, costly though it had been. Eight cruisers and a dozen escorts had been sunk, another four had to be evacuated and scuttled. Over a thousand sailors and pilots had been killed in the battle.

By comparison, the Marines had suffered far fewer casualties. The greatest loss had been Corporal Hawkins' squad. They had died in the attempt to stop the XSS Fashveranth's power cores from overloading. Corporal Kerr's tankers, in power armor, had already been ordered off along with the majority of the sailors who had boarded the vessel. However, their shuttles had been damaged and left adrift in space following the explosions. There'd been a few others dead in most of the other squads. The only ones who seemed to lead charmed lives were the Jiyuuians in Corporal Motoyama's Avengers.

The 4th Fleet Marines were hustled back to the Dauntless for an immediate debriefing from the Admiral. Their Navy counterparts would remain on the ships until relieved by Marine reinforcements. The 3rd Assault Fleet had just arrived in system and Grand Admiral Charlie Coast had volunteered his own Marines for the mopping up.

Tired and sweaty, the Marines bundled into one of the lounges. Valken had chosen to have it here rather than the conference rooms so that the Marines could rest on the couches. He just hoped that they didn't fall asleep.

"I'll make this quick. Well done. It seems Private Simmons can do more than just fire off her mouth. She seems to have secured the bridge so quickly that none of them had time to purge the ship's databanks. Which means that once Drei is done cracking the NMX AI's own security, we'll have the full logs for that fleet. Rather an improvement from the last time. Chief Santiago and the rest of the wounded are expected to pull through. Whether they'll be ready for tomorrow's deployment..." Valken left that hanging. It wasn't for him to decide whether wounded Marines were combat-ready. It was for the ship's doctors and their Marine counterparts to figure that one out.

"There'll be a full service for all of our fallen once this campaign is over. Now is not the time to mourn. However, since we cannot keep the bodies of our deceased for such a long time, we'll be holding a quick service for them in one of the missile bays. It'll be a combined Navy/Marine one. Which reminds me of two things. Replacements are due to arrive soon from 3rd Fleet transports. Squad leaders, get showered and a meal before they get here. Corporal Morris, since we are now one squad short, I am making you a squad leader. Congratulations. Pull Marines from the Cavaliers, with Sergeant Volkov's permission, and replacements. I want a roster before you deploy. I'll inform everyone of the changes to our Marine contingent as and when I can.

"Everyone else, you have 24 hours before the 3rd Fleet begins its assault on the planet. I suggest you get some rest and food. Dismissed."

On that note, Admiral Valken strode from the center of the assembled Marines and left the lounge. While his Marines rested, Valken needed to deal with the holes left by the loss of so many warships in the Fleet. He could rest when he was dead. Plus, Charlie Coast wanted to speak to his brother Admiral. After today, the only Grand Admiral that Valken had not spoken to as equals would be Vladmirius Corcyra, who from all accounts was the most similar to Valken in personality.
 
The Most Brilliant Medic in the Universe listened with rapt attention to the Admiral. There were so many clues in what he had just said about the fleet's future operations! Joint operations with 3rd Fleet, expanded Marine contingent, and more gear!

As the admiral departed, Laura knew that she wasn't needed in the medical bay. The only real wounded was Rita and her problems weren't medical so much as mechanical.

Tired as she was, Laura didn't feel like sleeping. It wasn't a physical exhaustion she was feeling; just the crash from an adrenaline high. She knew her body would get better with or without sleep. After a shower, she decided to check out the newbies coming in. Doubtful that'd she know anyone, much less meet anyone destined for her squad. The Cavaliers were so much larger than a regular squad that splitting it in half would create two, barely understrength squads.

She watched as the new Marines to 4th Fleet got off their shuttles. It looked like two or three squads worth. Chief Santiago was still being treated for his wounds so Sergeant Rochester had taken up the duty of assigning the new Marines to squads. Behind him, in immaculate uniforms and standing in perfect parade rest was his entire squad. Laura blinked, unsure if her eyes were deceiving her.

She had to give those Renegades credit, all of them looked like they had just fallen down a lot of stairs and yet they were still picture perfect. Rochester himself had a wound on his face that was still very red. She figured it was the wow factor. Impress upon these people how serious 4th Fleet was. Laura considered the other squads and what they would have done. The Cavaliers were always a discipline problem, picked for their skills first. And now that they were being reorganized, not the best unit to put on display. Motoyama's grim faced Jiyuuians probably weren't what Nepleslians expected from a Nepleslian fleet. Corporal Kerr's tankers were too ... casual to do this kind of thing. Holmes and his band of mercenaries looked like pirates in NSMC uniforms. So if there was a squad for dress parades and stiff upper lip crap, it was the Renegades. Not that they weren't crazy aggressive during fights.

"Greer, Matthias!" Rochester called out. That got Laura's attention faster than Flint Vanderhuge could chug a bottle of unopened whiskey. She rushed over, half thinking that Bernhard was back. Only to see a sandy haired young man step out with a smile. It wasn't Bernhard, nor did he even look like the silly oaf.

He, however, seemed to recognize her. "I know you!" he exclaimed right as Rochester stepped forward. "That's wonderful for you. You're in my squad, Greer. Fall in line," the burly Nepleslian pointed towards the squad behind him. Matthias looked like he wanted to talk to Laura but hesitated. "Yes, Sergeant," he said, grabbing his things and heading to the squad, adopting their pose.

"Excellent timing, Private Romero. Talbain, S., Lasalle, Francis and Plainsview, Ice. You're joining Romero's squad. Don't scare them too badly, eh Romero?" In response, Laura stuck her tongue out at Rochester who just grinned. Her reputation was famous amongst the Fleet. Or more appropriately, infamous.

She turned to see who the three new dingbats for her squad were. Two ID-SOLs and... Laura's eyebrow rose. "You're joking, right?"
 
Sawyer was there, more or less floating around in the background mulling the events of the boarding. Well this is definitely another reason I much prefer making use of the Aggressor suits, more armor, shields, and the weapons are less likely to break was what he was thinking to himself as he watched the new arrivals come off the shuttles. He was careful not to move too awful much because his chest was still very sore from the intense beating he'd ended up taking onboard the nmx ship.
 
As soon as the briefings ended, Bastilen stood up, and put the rest of the ship to his back as he went off on his own to the armor bay. The man had a small work area where he could toy around with and assemble small electronic and mechanical items. That tended to be one of his personal favorite pastimes, inventing little devices, and programming little executable, sometimes even writing out some basic games using the SAVtech's coding. There were plenty of possibilities, only he knew he didn't want to spend any of his twenty-four hours with these, as he called them, chucklefucks.

The cut on his abdomen was healing, at least, something he was thankful for as he went to sit down in his cushioned chair. He had stabbed in the stomach plenty of times to know that it made resting a pain. Still, he took a measure of relaxing solace in being away from everyone. For now, he took to operating a small A.I. system he had bought from the fleet's store.
 
"One mountain climbed, one giant killed. A thousand left to go."
That thought ran through Wulfe's head once the briefing was finished, not with his usual pessimism but actually looking forward for the challenge. He got up and left the room shortly after the admiral had finished the briefing.

Looking back at the operation, the marine decided he had gotten the better end of it, a couple of bruises from being thrown around by an enemy plasma grenade and that was it for him, his PA having taken the brunt of the blast and the only damage to it having been a launcher disabled.

And on top of it all, he had a generous 24 hours to get ready for the next operation. He'd get some rest, but not before some chow.
 
After the briefing Phaedra immediately headed for the showers; they were sure to be busy soon and she needed to be refreshed in order to receive the new recruits.

After she showered Phaedra put on a fresh uniform and headed straight for the Mess. As much as she would have liked to eat with her squad, she did not have the luxury of time at the moment. Phaedra ate quickly and then pushed her way through the busy corridors to the Med-bay. She flagged down an orderly that seemed to be less busy than the rest of his co-workers. She glanced at his nametag.

"Robinson," she said, her remaining eye glancing back up to his.

"Chief Leon Santiago. What is his condition?" she said directly.

The orderly was caught off guard at Phaedra's abruptness, but quickly searched on his tablet for the particular patient.

"Ah, here. Santiago, Leon. Looks like he is still in surgery. He is expected to make a full recovery, however."

"Very well, Robinson. I am Sergeant Phaedra Volkov. Please notify me when he is conscious, thank you."

With that Phaedra turned on her heel and pushed her way through the bustling corridors back towards the hangar where the new recruits were to be arrving.

She located Laura intercepting the new arrivals, although one of them was not so new. Phaedra immediately recognized Talbain; a familiar face that she had not seen since her time on the NSS Acadia.

"How long ago that seems," she thought.

The other large man was obviously an ID-SOL, but between them was probably the smallest Marine she had ever seen. The woman's hair and eyes were curiously similar to Phaedra's.

"Now that I think about it, Laura's hair and eyes are much like mine as well. Then again, my hair color was a mistake, whereas theirs may be intentional. This is a rather peculiar occurrence."

Phaedra quietly observed the interchange between Laura and the new recruits; she leaned against one of the bulkheads while she read their dossiers on her Savtech.

She stayed back and nearly out of sight; she would let Laura have her fun with the new recruits for the time being.
 
Francis stepped out of the shuttle and looked out at the bustling scene before him. There were cargo ships unloading, bringing precious supplies to 4th Fleet. And there were also some new Marines, like Francis, being transferred to the 4th from 3rd Fleet. Francis hoped that the introductions here would be a little more civil than the fiasco that had just happend on their way out. One major thing he picked up out of that was to try and avoid Ice's temper, considering she had pulled a gun on her fellow Marine.

He walked a bit forward and then heard his name called.
Talbain, S., Lasalle, Francis and Plainsview, Ice. You're joining Romero's squad.
Click to expand...
Francis looked over to see a young looking female sticking her tongue out at the officer who had just spoken. Surprisingly, she looked a lot like Ice, save that she was a good six inches taller than the Geshrin. Hopefully, their temperaments were different. Francis also noticed that he was easily the tallest member of the group that he stood in, and was surprised considering there was another ID-SOL with them. He looked far more experienced that Francis, however.

Francis decided it would be good to introduce himself. He looked at Laura, gave her a salute, considering she was his squad commander now, and said, "Hi, I'm Franics Lasalle. Guess I'm with you now." From the way she seemd preoccupied with studying Ice's appearance, Francis doubted she would return his introduction.
 
Bastilen was not alone in the bay though. At the feet of her battered armour Lisa Sat and held her knees. For someone who supposedly helped complete the mission, she did not seem happy at all. The girl was sniffling and judging from the small whiskey bottle in her hand, she already got a little drunk.

Her armour too seemed in bad shape. Although nothing really penetrated it, there were dozens of scrapes and little craters in it. Not to mention it was completely covered in Misshu blood. Lisa just leaned against its right leg, obviously deep in her mind, not noticing Bastilen.
 
Well. That escalated quickly. Out of necessity, Henry was given a squad that 'The Chief' had been leading before he died, and a sour taste formed in his mouth. It was pragmatic necessity on Dom's part to put the second-most senior marine in charge, but Henry didn't feel as though he'd earned it justly.

Dismounting out of his power armour earlier before the briefing was a smoother ordeal than last time, thanks to his catharsis being satisfied. His arms were still tense with knifing the Nekovalkyrja in the neck and watching the fountains of blood spray with each thrust. He also had some comfort in knowing that The Chief was going to get a proper funeral.

After getting his wounds patched up, taking a shower, having a warm meal, a stiff drink and a cigarette, he started examining his Minutemen. Henry realised something: There was no tech guy and no proper medic, aside from Mr. Rakowski.

Oh, wait, he was it. He kept on forgetting that fact thanks to his multi-disciplinary education in the marines. Equal parts Engineer and equal parts Soldier, all resourceful and all deadly.

Henry's squad seemed to be lacking somewhat compared to Volkov's Cavaliers with 7 marines to her 10. He did make a request to get Wulfe Stones back onto his Squad to help balance it to 8-9, which seemed a little more reasonable.
 
Having stepped off the shuttle Talbain heard his name called out. It wasn't hard to track the the voice back to the source. And from Sergeant Rochester it wasn't hard to find Romero based on their little exchange. The ID-SOL cut a path directly for her. Even for being a runt of an ID-SOL he was easy to pick out moving through the crowd. Stopping short only a few paces from Romero. "I am Talbain. Who do we report to Romero?" was all that he bothered to say. Doing so with no fanfare and with all the interest of a disgruntled caretaker working the galley's serving line.
 
Sawyer would see Lisa sitting and looking dejected, so he'd walk over to her and say "Hey is everything ok? Is there something I can do to help?" He was honestly concerned for her.
 
"Private Plainsview reporting, ma'am." Ice said, setting her kit back at her feat and saluting. She eyed her surroundings wearily, almost but not quite on her guard. She had been under the impression that the Marines would at least provide threats that were identified. Naive. It was the same game as on the streets, watch your back or get stomped, and don't stick out for anyone.

The mass of Marines though didn't seem to be interested. The two ID-SOL recruits she'd shipped in with seemed weary of her, which didn't bother her. If they were weary, they'd be less likely to give her trouble. The person they were assigned to was a little odd though. She was taller than Ice, which put her in the fine company of about 85% of the Nepleslian population, and obviously had never had to worry about finding something not entirely rotten to eat in a dumpster some nights. Her hair though was silvery but almost as white as Ice's own bleached bone locks, and her eyes were blue as well. Odd coincidence. Ice's hair was natural, a gift from her geshrin genes, so a young woman with silver hair didn't seem that out of the ordinary.

Filing that away, Ice came to rest and continued to semi-covertly scan the docking bay.
 
Phaedra strode towards Laura and the new arrivals; her hands were clasped behind her back and her single eye gazed at them with scrutiny.

"You all will be reporting to me," said Phaedra, announcing her presence.

"Welcome to the Cavaliers," she said. She turned her gaze toward Talbain.

"Pleased to see you again, Corporal Talbain," she said with a nod.

"We are currently on a 24 hour furlough, but you three will be using the majority of that time to get acquainted with your Power Armor."

"Corporal Talbain, Private Lasalle; make your way to the barracks and find yourself a bunk. Grab yourself a meal if you have not eaten and then meet me in the Armory in 60 minutes."

"Drei, please show these gentlemen the way to the barracks," Phaedra said, settling her gaze on Ice.

"Private Plainsview," she said, taking a step forward.

"I understand there was an altercation between two IDSOLs on the way here that you intervened in. While I applaude your attempt, drawing a knife for a fist-fight was not the best response. I also understand one of the IDSOLs attempted to strangle you, after which you drew your sidearm," said Phaedra. She took another step forward.

"An understandable reaction. However, it was one that could have been avoided had you decided to watch that mouth of yours." Phaedra leaned closer so that her face was inches from Ice.

"If you draw your sidearm on a fellow Marine again, there will be severe consequences."

"Do you understand me, Private?"

"Good. Head to the barracks, get yourself a meal, and then meet me in the armory."

"Drei, please show Private Plainsview to the barracks," she said, stepping away from Ice.
 
Lisa's eyes went up seeing Sawyer. She blinked several times, before wiping her teary eyes with her forearm. Her cheeks were wet and it was clear she cried. "No, yes, I don't know." She replied looking at the young man. "I feel fucked up Heavy." Her words were full of distress.
 
Stan watched the briefing intently, trying to ignore the residual pain from his (thankfully treated) injuries and the possibilities of what would await him as a result of the friendly fire incident, which hung over his head like a sword of Damocles. At least things seemed to be mostly going well for 4th Fleet; if they continued to rack up victories like this - hopefully with fewer casualties - perhaps this war would be over sooner rather than later (though Stan tried not to get his hopes up).

Once the briefing ended he allowed the accumulated stress and tension of the mission out with a great sigh as he exited the lounge. He suddenly realised just how drained he was - not to mention the gnawing hunger in his stomach. Determined to at least try to brighten up, no matter what lay before him, Stan went off to get some food. Sleep could wait until he had something warm in his stomach.
 
Francis saluted crisply to Phaedra and walked off into the ship, following Drei's directions. While he walked, the hybrid began to inspect his new surroundings. With his limited knowledge of starships, Francis concluded that this was an average warship. Not that it really mattered to him, though. As long as they kept him fed, clothed, and cared for Francis had no complaints.

He followed along Drei's path, eventaully arriving at the barracks. Francis dropped his gear on the first available bunk and unpacked only the things he thougt he might need in a hurry. After that, he continued on to the mess hall. The aroma of food greeted Francis as he entered, and the Marine's stomach growled. He graabed a quick bite to eat, consisting of a hamburger and some water, and walked off briskly to get to the armory in time for Phaedra's practice.

He came to the armory in somewhat of a hurry, hoping that he wasn't late. That certainly wouldn't help his chances at starting off on the right foot with his sergeant. Francis stood at a relaxed attention, not sure whether she was an NCO who liked her formalities or not.

"Pvt. Lasalle reporting for power armor training, Sgt. Volkov," he said as he got himself ready for her intruction.
 
Sawyer squatted down and moved to hug her, patting her on the back he said "it'll be okay, I'm sure Rui would prefer us to remember him by kicking the NMX off Rok'Veru, the time for grieving is when this is all over and we can dedicate the time to it." It wasn't much for comfort but it was the best he could come up with at the time.
 
"Sergeant Volkov." Talbain didn't need to check her nameplate for her name having worked with her before. "Corporal Talbain Reporting." He snapped Pheadra a crisp salute before finishing with a simple "Roger" before dropping his salute and moving out. He already had all his relevant equipment on. His HAS and Styrling .45 on his pistol belt already, and his gloves had become something of a permanent fixture. At the barracks area it was a simple matter to just prop his baggage up in a corner.

The ID-SOL's trip through the mess hall was quick as well. A tray with some mystery meatloaf, mashed starch, and some brown water flavor. Talbain also pocketed a couple energy drinks. What he hadn't eaten by the time he had gotten to the garbage can ended up in them. A quick look at his Datajockey and back into the hallways he went, making a direct line for the Armory.
 
Lisa blinked few times and looked at the bottle of whiskey in her hands. She was not even sure if it was okay for her to drink now or not. The blonde woman did not care. She was also not sure how Rui came up right now, she did not even know him really. Lisa did not wish him death, but she did not care about him. Half of the time she met him he was either drunk or shouted profanities. Not to mention that from what she heard his death was half his own mistake. Rushing ahead of everyone.

"Uh yeah...." Lisa gave Sawyer a neutral answer.
 
"Wait, wait, wait!" Laura interrupted Phaedra. "You're telling me that someone decided to put the three of us in the same squad? I mean, what the hell, Sergeant? What happened to the 'normal' women? Is Central Corps trying to replace us?"

No one could replace the Most Brilliant Medic in the Universe in any respect. But the very notion seemed insulting to Laura. And she saw the arrival of this smaller, less pretty version of herself as a challenge to Laura's... position in the squad. Even though there was little chance that the small, flat woman knew the first thing about the proper use of the NCS Hypolathe in combat conditions.

-------------------

Power Armor Bay/Armory, NSS Dauntless

The loud arrival of Francis, followed by the more surreptitious entrance by Talbain, ahead of Phaedra was unexpected the bay's occupants who looked around to see if any of them was Sergeant Volkov. Corporals Holmes and Kerr had been by Kerr's K4 tank discussing the possible assignments for 4th Fleet's Marines in the coming invasion. Corporal Motoyama and his squad were testing out the new M10 armor they had been issued. By testing, they were sparring in hand to hand combat at full speed to see how the armor held up.

While the two Nepleslian corporals and a few other Marines tinkering with the assembled armors lined along the bulkheads looked around, Motoyama and his unit paid no attention to the new arrivals.

"Sergeant Volkov... isn't here, Private." Kerr spoke as though he was unsure whether that would have any effect on the ID-SOL.
 
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