RP: NSS Acadia [Post Mission 3]: R&R (Rest and Rations)

Henry had been making pot-shots with his rifle, steadily getting the iron sights correct. He'd made a few miscalculations in getting the iron sights to line up correctly. With the target practice, had had it rectified, and the iron sights were now flawless. The sheer power of each bullet was also to be reckoned with, punching holes in the metal.

Fian Vel Steyr said:

Attention! All marines report to the Cafeteria for debrief.

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Satisfied with his current results, he shouldered his rifle and made his way over to the cafeteria, catching comment from some of the marines about his rifle. He sat down at the tables amongst his fellow marines.

He raised a toast with his flask of brandy and took a deep drink to the men and women lost in the wars. In particular, Keladrian had fallen, and Henry had looked out for him previously. His heart sank a little as a sour taste entered his mouth.

Then there came the mention of special training. This perked his interests, "Special training?" He wondered aloud, amongst the murmur of other marines. This could mean a course in engineering if he was lucky. Then there were the awards. Talbain, Kingston, and Anslem, all announced.

Were they getting medals? Henry wondered, then decided to cheer for Kingston, "Excellent work!" He cheered with his peers.

The Abino rose from his secluded back corner seat, muscling through several crewmen who couldn't find a seat before they parted enough to let the stocky clone through. Looking like a wet cat, Anselm took the stage next to Talbain, hoping very much for a quick promotion. The marine's face showed a glint of curiosity behind the mask of unease, he had made the decision to stay aboard for the Master Chief's 'special training' as soon as it was announced.

The Master Chief had a volunteer hold on to the wooden box for him. He removed three new sets of rank bars from it and tucked each set under the existing rank bars of the assembled marines. He then took position infront of the three and saluted. "Congratulations on your promotions, Private First Class."

"Dismissed!"

Fian then returned to the rostrum. "P3C Phaedra Volkov, P3C Sam Oliver, P3C Alexandra Mayhew and P3C Sean Masson. Fall in!"

Alex raised her head when she was called out. She was quite confused, since she didn't expect anything. She didn't do anything to be praised for.

She looked at Sam with curiosity in her face. She then stood up and walked very stiffly to the stage. She wasn't exactly about whole dinining room watching her. But she was supposed to fall in, so she will fall int.

Sam looked over to Alex with much the same face when she heard their names being called. What the hell did I do? Only thing I can think of ain't much good... She wiped some of the excess wing-sauce off her mouth before she stood and jogged up to the front of the room, falling into line at attention.

Anselm saluted the Master Chief smartly and left the stage, thankful to be out of the spotlight's glare and wondering when he'd been promoted to P2C.

Phaedra's ears perked up when her name was called. When the Master Chief ordered the group to fall in, she immediately rose to her feet and headed for the stage. She found the designated area and stood there at attention. All eyes were directed toward the stage, and Phaedra couldn't help but feel self-conscious.

"I don't deserve this attention," thought Phaedra.

The Master Chief Fian Vel Steyr repeated what he did with the previous group, except this time with P2C bars. He noted that this group was mostly female, not that he had a quota to fill or anything, both the rank bars and applause they were receiving were well deserved. After tucking in the last rank bar, he took three steps back and saluted.

"Congratulations on your promotions, Private 2nd Class." He announced in an official tone, raising his arms to salute again. If the process of giving promotions was entirely under his purview he would have figuratively chucked the bars at them, but this formality reflected High Command's approval and gratefulness for the service its soldiers provided. Fian dropped his salute. "Dismissed!"

He then returned to the podium, still in announcement mode "Also, as all of you have participated in the defense of Rok'Veru, you will all find General Defense Ribbons on your rooms if you do not already posses one." Fian then emptied his wineglass. "That's it for this ceremony. Plan on coming back for the next one if you want more chest candy."

Fian's voice had started to become noticeably slurred at this point. "To those going planetside, Bon Voyage. Be at the hangar bay in half an hour." His cheeks were starting to look ruddy. "To those that aren't, oh my, you only have fifteen minutes to be there. That's just enough time to change into your workout clothes."

The party was certainly over for the Master Chief. He let out one final intoxicated command. "DIIIIIIIIISSSSSSSSSSSSSMISSED!"

Alex has never been more proud. And bashful. She doesn't like to in center of everything. She thankes MC when he attached her rank-bar. She then saluted him back.

When dissmissed she went off the stage gladly it was over. She looked at Sam and asked. "So do you play to go training or planetside. To tell the true it is pretty hard decide."

Sean was unsure why he'd been promoted already, but he wasn't going to be complaining. More money, and he'd only had to shoot a few squids to get it. He'd take that deal any day. He groaned quietly when he heard the time limit. Well, I guess I should go get changed then. Thought he'd give us a bit more of a break before we started out. Oh well... He made his way to his new bunk, and quickly changed his gear out, getting dressed for something a bit more physical then drinking.

Phaedra returned the Master Chief's salute and then filed off the stage with the rest of her crewmates. A great sense of pride in her accomplishment filled her mind, but she quickly brushed it aside; many of her friends were not even able to make it this far.

As much as her throbbing headache told her to go on shore leave, Phaedra concluded that she needed simple physical activity to return her body to equilibrium. She made her way down the corridor from the mess hall and returned to her room. There she changed into her workout clothes, which consisted of a green tanktop and khaki shorts. Nearly all of Phaedra's scars and implants were visible in this apparel; her left arm and leg were clearly constructed of metal and scar tissue was visible at the place where flesh joined metal. While she felt slightly self-conscious that her flaws were exposed, she dismissed such a trivial concern.

Before leaving her room, Phaedra recovered a small cylinder from one of her desk drawers; The word ENDURANCE was printed on the side. Phaedra took the small cylinder and pressed it to her right shoulder. The cylinder made a small PSHHHT noise and then Phaedra removed it, tossing it into the trashcan underneath her desk. Her headache disappeared, and her joints no longer felt stiff. Phaedra grabbed a small towel and a water bottle before leaving her room and returning to the hangar.

Once in the hangar, Phaedra began to warm up by performing various stretches.

Henry had left quietly, and made his way back to his secluded little bunk with his rifle on his shoulder. Once there, he separated the barrel from the rest of the gun with ease, and put it in his footlocker, satisfied that it worked properly. As for training, he took a few moments to get his gear on, eventually looking... kind of silly.

The clothing used in physical training exercises was made to accentuate the Nepleslian physique, whether male or female. Henry, however did not have these desirable qualities, as the clean singlet hung loosely around his shoulders, and the scars from the muscle replacements in his leg were visible. With that, he departed to the Hangar.

He'd also taken a canteen, a hand towel usually reserved for grease and his wits to this exercise room, unsure of how to start. He eventually started copying Phaedra's motions to stretch out beforehand.

Viktor Kingston had caught pace with Talbain on the way back, and fallen in when commanded to do so. He was more than a little proud to receive the promotion to Private First Class, and it showed in his smirk, and the strong salute.

He gave a solid few claps for those that had graduated to Private Second Class, and left quickly for his bunk, having chosen to discover the secret of this 'special training.' He was dressed and ready to go in no time, and spent just a minute admiring what few adornments his uniform had.

Then he was out the door, and on his way to the rendezvous for MC Fian's special training session. Rather surprisingly, he was the first to arrive.

Sam saluted Fian sharply as she was given her promotion, pride welling up inside her.

Once they were dismissed, she answered Alex quietly. "I'm gonna go planetside... got some stuff I wanna do. I'm curious about the MC's trainin', though." With that, she nodded to the medic. With half an hour to get to the hangar bay, she had just enough time to pack up what few things she had into a large duffel bag and hustle her way down there.

Alex noded upon hearing Sams comment. "Well then I will tell you how it was. I think I should get in better shape." she said and looked on the floor. "There wasn't really much I did down on Rok'Veru. Anyway see you later!" With she gave him a small wave and left for her bunk.

She changed into workout clothes. Now this will be interesting. And tiring. Alex just shake her head and headed to meeting point for MC's 'special training'. There she started stretching and getting ready. Well who know maybe it won't even be physical activity. Maybe he will be speaking about tactics or something and just wanted to freak us out a little with the workout clothing. But that was not very probable.

The Chief simply flicked a spent cigarette onto the ground at the end of Fian's speech, and made his way toward his quarters. Taking a rather large swig of whiskey from a hidden bottle, the Chief then pulled out his Murr Armor set and, without the helmet, slipped it on.

Attempting to simulate the slight weight of magazines, the Chief stuffed the pouches of his Muur Armor with as many packs of cigarettes and mini-bottles of alcohol as he could, and with cigarette in mouth, headed towards the armory to procure a CQBS-A2, consciously not grabbing a magazine for it as he headed out the door and to the hangar.

Upon entering, the Chief eyed Henry and Volkov stretching out. Stretching just his hamstrings and thighs, the Chief simply took a seat on a random box next to them, and lit another cigarette. "You know, in combat you're not gonna get a chance to stretch out like that." The Chief rolled his head and popped his neck. "Gotta practice under the worst conditions in order to thrive."

Why the Chief was smoking prior to exercising, noone knew. Ran probably didn't know, either.

Harrison shrugged. When it came time to choose between "rigorous exercise" and "drowning oneself in booze", the ex-merc's choice was obvious. He took time to finish off his multiple NMR packets (having never actually touched the food), then headed off to change into his leave clothes.

Once he had stowed away all of his uniform gear, Harrison headed for the shuttle to the surface. He was ready to kick back and relax for once.

Edward left the canteen and headed for his bunk, he quickly stowed his drawing gear. sunglasses were retrieved and hooked on his neck and he removed his jacket. Edward smiled lightly and headed for the shuttle to the surface, it would be nice to have some recreation.

Anselm waited in his corner, whiling away most of his time watching the rest of the Acadia's complement drizzle out after the promotion ceremonies, leaving the albino just enough time to stroll down to the hangar. Stripping off his uniform for the tank-and-shorts piloting suit underneath, the marine exchanged his heavy boots for a pair of tough-soled foot covers normally worn inside the confines of an armor. Still armed with his holstered HHG and chainknife, the marine decided to sit next to Chief Ran; he squinted at the newbies stretching out and decided to make a comment to his superior about it, "what in the hell are they doing?"

About more than half of the marines onboard the Acadia had gathered in the hangar bay in their workout clothes. While the other half weren't due for another fifteen minutes, their shuttle had already arrived and started docking procedures. As the MC had already reserved part of the bay, the shuttle entered the bay using the external clamp/trolley method. Other than the loud 'THUD' as the clamps set the vessel down, the gathered marines were not affected by the usual howling noise and exhaust blast of a regular docking. The shuttle was on the first of its many rounds carrying fresh supplies, replacement parts and personnel to the Acadia. Volumetric security tape was conjured to divide the hangar bay between the two separate events.

In the meantime, the Master Chief showed up dressed in a pair of standard issue shorts and tank top. Fian was all lean muscle and specific points on his skin on his arms and legs were calloused and chafed due to his preference for the rough and tumble High-Mobility PAs. His face was still red, but he was mentally sober from his personal supply of sobriety pills. He managed 'requisition' a small mike from the engineering staff.

"LISTEN!"

"A soldier WORKS HARD and PLAYS HARD when and where he can. Since you gentlemen have decided against the latter by refusing shore leave, we will begin by JOGGING ROUND THIS DECK FIFTEEN TIMES, the last five people in the line will drop down and GIVE ME TWENTY."

Fian used a forceful tone and raised his voice where appropriate. "Chief Ran, make sure NOBODY RUNS."

"MOVE!"