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

Lilly frowned, partially at the presence of the incapacitated ID-SOL, partly at the fact that Anselm and Phaedra had actually dragged him back here. "I wouldn't say hitman, considering he's in a drug-induced stupor. Aren't hitmen professionals? Like assassins? Or ninjas?" Lilly's innocent naivete shone through, and her rebuttal to what Harrison had said turned into more of a childish inquiry as to what a word meant. Though she had heard the term before, she suddenly doubted her definition of what 'hitman' meant.

"This isn't a fucking hitman, it's just another reason for the pencil pushers at Central to fuck with you guys for messing with civilians and therefore, a major headache for the MC." Ran took a long drag on his cigarette and tossed it out the shuttle, blowing smoke in the ID-SOL's face. He positioned himself next to the Master Chief, so that he was facing him and showing everyone else his back.

"Sir, we ought to just take care of him before the IPG and everyone gets involved with this again. You remember last time when a Marine was caught fighting civilians. Fucker is still paying for it in the brig." Ran winked at Fian, while tapping on his pistol for dramatic effect. "It'd be real easy to do it, sir. There's only Marines here, and we don't go squealing on each other."

Shit, I hope this guy doesn't take it seriously. Was the only thing on Ran's mind.

Phaedra, who was sitting next to Anselm in an aisle seat, spoke up. Surprisingly, she resisted the impulse to salute and simply crossed her arms across her chest.

"Sir, we captured the ID-SOL with the intention of gaining information related to hostile actions taken against the Nepleslian Military; specifically involving Captain Miller, as well as several other members of the crew."

"Where did that Captain run off to anyway?" thought Phaedra.

"We thought it would be best to attempt to understand the cause of the incident at the drinking establishment, in order to respond effectively to the situation at that time." Phaedra paused briefly.

"And the ID-SOLs could not have been considered civilians if they were openly in armed conflict with ourselves and were indiscriminately slaughtering the occupants of the establishment. That would classify them as guerillas, terrorists, or simply gunmen."

"Ugh." Fian had his thumb and index finger massaging the bridge of his nose.

This was the problem of people who are bred sorely for combat, it's hard enough for normal soldiers to re-integrate themselves into society, but what about those who were never in it to begin with? Knowing only war, this one here must have lost all self control at the prospect of a firefight. Though the ID-SOL wasn't the only purpose made being at fault here, Fian could guess who pulled out the gun first.

And who was that Phaedra mentioned? Captain Miller? THE Captain Miller? The name was like a force multiplier for complications in this situation.

A slow hum started reverberating through the cabin, gradually increasing in intensity.

"I can call up the IPG to 'investigate' him to a fate worse than death. But really, the Chief is right, this isn't the time for this because we have no time." He then continued, fist clenched, in a voice louder than normal. "Whoever bought him in here, you have 30 seconds to get him outside before the shuttle takes off!"

"Everyone else, Chief, P3C Wallace, take a seat and strap yourselves in!"

Norvan grabbed a seat, quickly strapping himself in. He felt strangely calm, he'd met people who told him that the shuttle, lift off was always the scariest first time, but he didn't feel that much anxiety. Turning to his left he saw he was sitting down next to a woman (Phaedra), with white hair and cybernetic eye. Seeing her eye reminded him of his own, for a moment he found himself thankful that his was hidden behind a contact lense, but felt guilty immediately that he would let himself feel better because someone had it worse than him.

"The names Norvan." he said extending his normal arm to shake her hand. Hoping to redeem himself on some sub-conscious level.

Phaedra felt Fian's command aimed at her like a slap in the face.

"Damn it...Why do I have to keep upsetting my superiors? What am I getting wrong?" thought Phaedra with a mental kick.

Phaedra stood self-conciously, grabbed the unconscious ID-SOL from his seat and dragged him down the aisle toward the exit hatch. She tried to ignore the multitude of stares as she dragged the ID-SOL to the hatch; the engines of the shuttle still powering up with a loud whine. With a grunt of exertion, she shoved the ID-SOL out of the hatch and onto the landing platform. Without pausing she turned on her heel and returned to her seat.

In the seat to her right was a marine she did not recognize and he introduced himself as Norvan. Somewhat unexpectedly, he presented his left hand for a handshake. Phaedra responded in kind with her left hand, the cold metal grasping Norvan's hand firmly.

"P3C Phaedra Volkov, Sniper and Reconnaissance," her expression somewhat of a scowl. Her eyes quickly ran over his features, noting the bizzare way in which he purposely avoided using his right arm.

"Are you new to the unit also?"

"P3C Grunt, just out of boot camp." he replied to Phaedra. He looked around and saw that the line of marines and crew had dwindled to nothing. Time to fly. he looked around apprehensively at Phaedra.

"So how long have you been with the Acadia?"

"Not long at all," said Phaedra. "I joined up with them earlier today. I was able to socialize with some of the crew, but I confess that I am still one of the new guys," she said, her arms returning to their crossed position.

"If you don't mind me asking, what was with unconscious ID-SOL you took out of the shuttle?" The question had been bothering him since he saw the ID-SOL slumped on the seat in the shuttle, he looked familiar, but Norvan couldn't place him, though he knew his name.

Anselm crossed his arms, watching Phaedra single-handely unload the captive, he looked at Wallace "I captured him, Volkov helped me bring him aboard- speaking of which, you didn't injure yourself, did you?" he asked Phaedra with an air of concern and admiration.

Lilly cringed at the crude, violent response she got out of the chain-smoking man with the stoic face. She wasn't sure which made her more uncomfortable: the belching clouds of smoke he managed to drain out of his cigarette in one huff, the undisguised look of cold hard bastard, or the way he joked about taking a life so needlessly for his own entertainment.

Lilly leaned slightly towards Harrison, whispering to him in a low voice, "Who on Nepleslia is that man? He seems psychotic!" A concerned look of unadulterated disgust crossed her face.

"No, I'm fine," replied Phaedra. "I wouldn't have been able to carry him by myself, but dragging him from here to the hatch was wasn't too much of a problem. And besides, I pissed off the MC...again...I would rather not make this a habit." She turned to meet eyes with Anselm.

"You had the right idea; to capture him in order to extract information. But I keep forgetting that we're not on the battlefield, and that the rules here are different," she said, turning away and slouching in her seat.

"I think I've had enough of shore leave..." thought Phaedra.