RP: NSS Acadia [Post Mission 1]: Shore Leave

Phaedra stared at the short and stocky marine for a moment, who was curiously dressed in only a pair of shorts. Patches of scarred tissue covered his skin, and his hair was severely cropped. She recognized him as the Marine who had been convulsing horribly at the landing platform. He was hefting the unconscious form of one of the ID-SOL gang members. The marine had thought to capture one of the ID-SOLs, just as she had, but he had apparently been much more successful in keeping his prisoner alive.

Phaedra nodded wordlessly and set down her rife case. She pulled the sling of her duffle over her head and rested it on her left shoulder. Grabbing the ID-SOLs legs, she placed them onto her left shoulder and held them in place with her left arm. Then, with some difficulty, Phaedra grabbed the carrying handle on her rifle case with her right hand and then slowly pushed herself up onto her feet.

"Lets go," said Phaedra to the marine.

Lilly was unsure what to make of Harrison's gesture. She pulled the coat around her, clutching it shut with both hands. She continued on toward the nearby shuttle pad. "Um, thank you..." she said meekly to Harrison, "I suppose the military isn't the kind of place for someone who can't stand violence." Her brow furrowed, a sad scowl crossing her face. She continued to shake quite a bit, and her face still felt quite hot. It was probably the adrenaline.




(sorry for the delay, Cipher. I keep getting sidetracked whenever I'm about to post.)

"Great," Anselm grinned as they toted their POW to the shuttle pad "maybe we can get some information on the idiots who organized this stunt and shove a few boots up their asses... what idiot let ID-SOLs organize into street gangs, I mean-" he half-asked, slightly agitated.

"Sir." Ran tossed a half liter bottle of high-proof whiskey to the side. And ignored the screams of protest coming from someone he obviously hit. The lack of food had caused the effects of the whiskey to manifest very early, and he was just a little bit loopy when he met Fian.

"What's up with canceling our leave for so early?" The Chief grinned at Fian, making several gestures with his hands that mimicked someone pulling the triggers of guns. "Sounds like we've got ourselves a very rowdy bunch of new recruits." The Chief sat on the ground with a sigh, producing and consuming a cigarette, as well as a portion of a small bottle of whiskey.

"Might need it to loosen up the gears, sir." The Chief offered the small bottle to Fian, which was at that point not even full enough to produce two shots of alcohol.

(no problem.)

Harrison shrugged off the comment. "If you can't handle combat," He advised, "you can always work in he medical ward, or a requisitions officer or some sort of other non-combat personel. You don't have to leave the force, after all." He chuckled. "Pay's beter than any other job, anyways."

Master Chief Fian Vel Steyr in a gesture of solidarity swiped the bottle from Chief Ran Rui's hands and knocked it back. It was the least he could do for sitting back from the shore leave. Though, what caused him to stagger was not the burning sensation from the hard liquor going down his throat, that he had learnt to tolerate in small amounts from all the years in the SMoDIN, but the slight taste of gastric acid on the mouth of the bottle.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, hit the Chief on the arm once for making him go through that, and then shoved the bottle back. "Thanks, don't throw up in the shuttle and get everyone onboard."

-Later-

There seemed to be a larger number of SMoDIN soldiers in the shuttle terminal than when they first arrived. Probably High Command is mobilizing a significant portion of the Nepleslian manhood in the light of recent Mishuvatar activity. Every other head in the sea of travellers was a green Barrett. Amusingly, this only made it easier for the Master Chief to find the person he was looking for, the 8-ft Wallace was sticking out like a sore thumb.

Fian had to squeeze through the crowd because he left his jacket and the attached rank bars in the shuttle. Finally standing casually infront of the marine, he wasn't the ideal image of a Commanding Officer, being all scruffy from the events on Starbase Golding and having one arm in a sling. He glanced once more to the biodata displayed on his datapad before looking up to the soldier.

"Are you P3C Norvan Wallace?" He asked, head slightly tilted.

Norvan turned towards the voice. A man with a sling and very ruffled clothing stood in front of him. Is he my commanding officer? No, he's gotta be P2C or something. he thought. Realizing that even so he should probably had answered the man by now.

"Yes, that is me SIR!" he said, the Sir coming out with more emphasis than he had wanted, several heads turned to his direction and he desperately tried to stop his face turning red with embarrassment. First assignment and I've already fucked it up. He tried to recover by giving a salute, his jacket was rolled up and the robotic limb was clearly visibil. He had heard that some captains proffered troops without artificial limbs, Norvan didn't know why, it had never bothered him, up until now that is.

Phaedra nodded at the marine's comment; what the ID-SOLs were doing in a street gang was beyond her. Much like herself, ID-SOLs were first and formost bred for combat and for nothing else.

"I had never seen ID-SOLs outside of SMDION; It is potentially dangerous to allow such phyisical power outside of the discipline of the command structure."

Then a thought occured to Phaedra, and she glanced around to locate a certain individual who seemed to be missing.

"Where is Captain Miller?" said Phaedra.

Fian chuckled at the outburst. While he wasn't much for polishing brass and formalities, he expected each new addition to the team to follow protocol and pay their proper respects before he released them from that obligation. "At ease soldier, don't have to be all uppity with me unless there is higher brass around."

He tucked the datapad under his broken arm and held out his hand with a smile. "I'm Master Chief Fian Vel Steyr, your Commanding Officer on the NSS Acadia. How are ya feeling?"

Commanding Officer! And I though he was P2C. Norvan was unnerved by how the commander seemed so at ease with all this. Then again he has done this plenty of times before, thought Norvan. He was grateful that the officer didn't seem like the tyrant all privets fear of getting stuck with. He hoped that Fian was genuine.

"Nervous...sir." he said, still unsure whether Fian had been joking or was serious about the sir. "but looking forward to my first assignment." he added quickly. "Permission to ask a question sir?"

Fian was mildly displeased that Wallace was still 'sir'ing, but any form of reprimand was probably going to make the P3C even more nervous. 'First Phaedra now this, boot-camp must have been toughened up since I left.' The Master Chief felt that it would be best if they learnt how he did things by themselves.

He awkwardly withdrew his hand since Wallace wouldn't shake it. "What is it, soldier?"

"Why are we here so early? I though leave was schedule to end at least a week from now. Is this to do with the Mishhuvurthyar attack? Are we going to war?" Norvan had been thinking about this since he'd heard of the attack, being able to speak with an officer who may know something new was something he had looked forward to. He realised that he was barraging Fian with to many questions and stopped, waiting for an answer.

At that moment he realised that he hadn't shaken Fian hand earlier and hadn't given a reason. "I apologise about not shaking your hand sir, but there is a hydraulics problem with my arm and I didn't want to hurt you."

"I apologise about not shaking your hand sir, but there is a hydraulics problem with my arm and I didn't want to hurt you."

Click to expand...

"Ah, how thoughtful." Fian noted. "I don't have a cybernetic arm myself, it would certainly hurt if something were to happen."

"Article 62 Subsection 6 of the Military Code allows High Command to cancel leave and to provide pay in lieu of the days remaining, so we are all 6 days richer." The Master Chief rattled off the rule he memorized in Military School, and its essential effect on the current situation. "The reasons for this might be entirely obvious." Here he nodded to mean the Mishhuvurthyar. "But I'm not at a liberty to disclose that information before the official briefing."

Lastly he grinned before putting his hand down real hard on Wallace's shoulder. "Of course we are going to war, thats what soldiers like us are for, no?" He turned around, but looked over his shoulder at the new guy before making his way back to the shuttle. "Come on, we have work to do!"

Norvan walked quickly to catch up with Fian, his mind was trying to register the prospect of war. The commander hadn't said they were, but he had caught the meaning behind the gesture. He was bred for war like the other ID-SOLs, but actually realising that you were going to war, Norvan found himself slightly shocked. However his desire for adventure and glory soon took hold of him and he found himself almost giddy with excitement. Your a soldier Norvan. Act like one. a voice said in his head and he managed to keep himself composed somehow.

As he followed Fian he realised how different things were from what he was taught in the training facilities. The crew that he Fian passed all nodded their heads at the commander or addressed him by his name instead of rank. He realised the captain hadn't been joking about that earlier, and he made a mental note to stop calling him Sir among the other crew members. Still unaware of what he should be doing, he followed the commander hopping he would tell him where to drop his belongings.

Together, Anselm and Phaedra managed to haul the captive ID-SOL onto the shuttle and strap him into a chair. Anselm took the seat directly behind the tank incase he woke up and tried anything stupid.

Massaging one of his shoulders, Anselm looked to Phaedra "I'll watch him, you should probably tell the Master Cheif what we found." He probably noticed us carry this thing on board, but it's better to assume he didn't.

After waiting around for a little bit for the scuffle to End, Trey realized some of the Marines were leaving. One or two he recognized as Acadia crew, and so he picked up all of the grocery bags (quite a feat considering there were four and they were quite full) and followed the one he recognized most, whom was carrying an unconscious ID-SOL of unknown affiliation. After another few minutes of trekking, they came upon a shuttle, so Trey made his way there, setting the bags of fresh fruit and veggies on a chair and sitting down next to it.

Fian occasionally glanced behind him to make sure Wallace was still tagging along. When he got on the shuttle, he did a quick overhead scan of everyone already onboard. Some he were all too familiar with like Anselm and Ran, a few new faces whose names he knew from the updated marine roster he received just hours ago, and then there was the stranger of an ID-SOL in rags passed out in the front seat. The Master Chief wasn't too pleased that the shore leave party decided to 'take-away' a portion of their troubles. He approved more of the Penton taking-away actual foodstuff.

Hand on his hips, he looked sternly at the marines seated near the unconscious ID-SOL expecting an explanation.

"He was a hitman." Harrison said bluntly as he guided Lilly into a seat, then sat down somewhere nearby. "Anselm and Phaedra dropped him outside the bar; he was armed and dangerous. Thought we'd bring him back to the spookies, let them rough him up a bit."

When he entered the shuttle, he had to try not to gasp in surprise when he saw the beaten up figure slumped on a seat unconscious. Fian had obviously not known about this because he is asked his crew what the figure was doing here. A man with a scar on his face said he was a hitman. "I've seen this man before..." he said before realising he was saying it aloud.

Having moved with the crowd instead of trying to move against it Talbain had wound up to far away to get to the fight before it was over. Having received the Chief's message he made his way to the shuttle and apparently missed something interesting due to the face that Anselm had himself a prisoner seated in front of him. This put him in a poor mood to say the least. Not so much as missing a fight but not being there when the squad was fighting. Moving around the group he found himself an empty seat away from the albino and Chief and planted himself until called for.