RP: SFS Service to the Free State: Glorified Border Guards

[Lamb]

At this point something very contrary happened. Much to Eir's chagrin, she wouldn't be using that fancy Devastator armor she'd been basically telling herself was the greatest thing ever. To those inside the shuttle, it made little sense. It was a voice, one which spoke with authority over an address system. One which was clearly not the ship's ACE.

"Ah, belay all standing orders, Marines. Stand down. Repeat, Stand down." Someone told them from the bridge. Probably a communications officer. Probably. "Greer, Romero. Report to the Captain's Quarters immediately. The rest of you disembark and drop kit; report to the wardroom ASAP."

At first, it seemed like whomever was giving orders couldn't make up their mind. Then, to those connected with polysentience and official military intelligence channels it suddenly became quite clear. Or rather, it became imaginably clear. Outside, more than just a few heavy guns had just come into existence where before there was only void. An entire squadron of cruisers and mixed heavy ships had come in addition to the originally prescribed reinforcements. Among them, a gleaming white-painted brick amongst the green which was now crawling up next to the Ulfberht, was the NSS Nemesis, the flagship of the 4th Fleet's 5th Battlecruiser Squadron; which was a part of the fleet's First Division, under the direct command of the Grand Admiral. Every squadron in this division fielded an admiral. That is to say, an Admiral was on the field. There was someone in close proximity who had golden tasseled pauldrons on their shoulder-boards.

To sum up exactly what this meant, it is best to say that these recent events had shaken the command structure all the way to the top and the nearest highest-ranking officer was scrambled and sent to surround anything and everything worth pointing a gun at and say calmly, 'Okay, let's all settle down and talk this out before anyone gets hurt.'

Incidentally, it is worth mentioning that the smuggling ship which was about to be boarded by the Spacer fleet had made a run for it once more, only to collide with a battlecruiser just as it popped into being-- the resulting damage essentially rendering the tiny freighter as a cloud of glittering dust in space. The battlecruiser was undamaged.

What was immediately clear to those in the know was that diplomacy was going on. Something big was happening. Perhaps even the Premier was holding a red phone somewhere. Probably not, though. Phones don't really exist anymore. It's probably a red 'communicator' or a red holographic projector.

Furthermore, there was a wardroom to get to, and quick.

 

[Gunhand4171]

Alistair choose to remain silent after his plan had been shot down. He knew that Eir had meant well, still he wanted flex his hacking skills on a true challenge. He instead had ACE patch him through to the ships scanners. He decided to monitor the Spacers' apporach on the ISS Hard Liquor. They seemed to still be on an intercept trajectory until something strange happened. Multiple ships blinked into reality. They were ships Alistair had never seen before. Thankfully they were freindly.

He was about inform the team of the recent developments when the message was broadcasted to the team. Alistair let out a calming breath, one of relief and one of annoyance. He was relieved that he dodged the bullet on his first deployment, and annoyed that command was keeping them in the dark. You think we would be able to get more accomplished if they would just be more straight forward.

Alistair knew though, that he better get a move on. "Well guys," he started "I would make my way over to the wardroom if I knew where it was. Anyone want to show me the way?" Alistair laughed, trying to hide his nervousness as he unbelted.

 

[Moogle]

If Phase had been using analogue controls, they would have casually flipped the off switch to the shuttle and let it fall. Instead, the freespacer used the digital off switch and the shuttle landed in the bay as soon as it had started moving with an unsettling CLUNK! Their larger body stepped out first to let all the others off first.

"That is not the fleet we had called in," Phase noted aloud, the noise emanating from both bodies. "It looks like we have got a wild ride ahead of us, yes~"

The smaller body unplugged itself from the shuttle console and rejoined the larger, climbing back inside after passing the datapad back. "Come with me, new guy. I will show you the way to wonderous things~"

Regardless of Alistair's answer, Phase took the lead and tromped off to the wardroom.

 

[Syaoran]

Linda stepped out of the shuttle at the orders to stand down. She of course wondered what was going on, but it did not take long for the information to start feeding into her HUD showing the state of the situation with the ISS Hard Liquor. "The Nemesis...that is some serious reinforcements." She wanted to continue watching the situation unfold but she had her orders so she quickly got out of her armor and took her Datajockey with her.

Seeing Phase decide to lead Alistair, she decided to just follow along and not bother trying to look like she was going at her own pace, instead she watched the IPG reports.

 

[Born-On-Board]

And again, Eli was out of his armor. It was almost an episode from Boot Camp, recruits being made to shuffle into different uniforms as quickly as possible, over and over again, except this time kill-hats weren't crawling up his anal duct. Just what the hell was happening? The slogger's perspective was always one of narrow view and infinite consideration, i.e., no one ever told you a god damn thing, and this was supposed to be an act of comfort.

Well.

Enough pontification on the nature of service, Eli thought. He shucked his Hostile, finally stowing it, confident that this time he wouldn't have to crawl back into it at a moment's notice. He followed Phase, Alistair, and Linda to the wardroom, not really saying much of anything, attempting to keep his mind blank from the mother hen-like worrying of a grunt that knew too little and thought too much.

 

[Deathevn]

Eir could only watch as everything suddenly changed. It seemed very unusual that both her mission was scrapped and she and the others were separated from their command. They hadn’t even had time to properly ruin what they were attempting to justify such harsh action.

But she was a soldier, and Command had spoken. She moved and sat down, strapping herself in for the rest of the flight. She didn't say much, simply turned over in her head what all of this could mean. After a few minutes she gave it a rest. Once more she was put in a place where she had too little information to put together a picture, but she was thankful that this time it was not about life and death.

It was then she saw the ships come in. She did a quick count of what their reinforcements roughly estimated and swallowed. She knew things had gotten extremely serious, but she had not expected this kind of response.

When they arrived and disembarked, Eir was quick to clear the area and clear herself of her kit as fast as was reasonable and responsible. She had too much respect for the tools of her trade to push it any faster than that. She joined the others as they walked, smoothing out her uniform and readjusting her beret on her head. No doubt at least some of the brass was waiting for them in the ward room, and she wanted to give them as little reason as possible to dress her down. If her squad had done something more dramatic or terrible on their last mission, well, she was ready to account for that, even if the timing to do so seemed terribly off.

“Let’s hope this time we get some answers and not just more questions,” she muttered, just the right tone for the others to hear, not enough for anyone with higher rank to catch. “Would like some of this to start making sense.”

 

[Lamb]

In the wide open hangar of the Ulfbhert, there had been many arrivals and departures in the wake of the Admiral's arrival. It was in the middle of this that a certain shuttle arrivedand slid into a fighter bay on the opposite end from Harmonious Solarsailor. From this shuttle emerged a pair of men, one stomping ahead with a datapad clutched in his massive hands sliding between views of the recent joint boarding operations from the helmet cams of various armored units that'd been abour the smuggling vessel. He was watching Warmonger Keid taze a guy right in the wrinklepack when two more marines jogged up and saluted.

"Commandant Black, sir!" The shouted, with all the enthusiasm of freshly brainwashed booters.

"Shut the fuck up." Responded said commandant. The man himself was a walking fortress of muscles and hair, tall and broad with medium-length brown hair, a thick beard braided just below his chin, and a wicked claw tattooed closing around one of his slate grey eyes. He didn't take his eyes off the datapad as he clopped along.

The two marines looked between themselves and then back at him, one asking, "Well, do you need anything, sir?"

"Get a tray of glasses and bring some bourbon to the wardroom." He said, then stopped and turned on them. "Actually, make it gin-- No, whiskey-- No, vodka. You know what?" He leaned in way to close to the one who'd asked and said in a low growl, almost whispering, "Bring a bottle of everything."

Then, the commandant struck a match against the shoulderboard on his jacket and walked on, lighting a cigar as he walked.

"Maybe you should've asked for a minibar." Suggested the Master Sergeant behind the Commandant. The Master Sergeant was a much narrower individual, less muscle and more tone. He was tall, scarred, and focused; with a narrow frog-like mouth that added expression where there was none. A short mohawk adorned his otherwise bald head and face-- a party's worth of whimsy when compared to just how pressed and unwrinkled his uniform was.

"Nene oo nyouna athed mor ma mimimar." Mocked the Commandant in a childish voice that only gathered the same basic sound as the original statement, now refocusing on his datapad. "That's you, Elway, right now, with your stupid voice."

-----

Harmonious Solarsailor sat in it's edge of the hangar wishing it could sigh. These were the moments when it would've rather been plowing through some gas cloud or weaving between asteroids tumbling in a belt. Idly, it turned its sensors to the outside world, looking at the various ships that'd gathered to see if there was anybody it knew.

"Harmony." A voice called out in the hangar. It belonged to a short, thin woman with a pile of white curls bouncing off of her head and a crystalline formation of purple diatoms crawling down one temple. Behind her eyelids were solid teal-blue spheres, and her face held an easy smile.

"Mindtwister Cloudheart Nixton Nine-nine?" Asked the ship, "I never realized you were organic."

The little girl reached out with one hand at the base of the ship, her fingers spread wide, but stopped short of touching. "May I?"

Harmony seemed to think on it a moment before responding, "If it would make you happy."

"I've always wanted to." Cloudheart said softly, then pressed four fingers up against the hull of the ship. Then her thumb and palm, then her face. Soon, slowly, she was hugging herself against the hull entirely, her ear pressed firmly against the cold metal and her eyes closed in satisfaction. Here, she whispered, "I always knew you were special."

-----

When everyone arrived in the wardroom, they were greeted by a wide conference table, where Commandant Black sat at the head of the table facing the rear wall with a twirling lowballer of scotch in one hand. As they entered, he threw up a hand and barked, "Don't bother saluting, just sit down, grab a drink or some motor oil or whatever Spacer shit you need, and put your shut up faces on."

Whatever he was looking at on the far wall, the commandant lost interest in it and turned to face his new wards, standing and meeting them all with a wide sweeping gaze. At this point, the sergeant who'd been following him before emerged from the hall and mounted his commander's flank.

"I am Commandant Killroyal Black." Introduced the commandant, planting arms on his hips, "And this is Master Sergeant Thaddeus Elway. Command, because they are the smartest and most talented people in the entire galaxy have decided to reassign your squad leaders in favor of giving this endeavor an "Officers' Touch". I am that officer. From now on, you will report to me."

As he continued, Killroyal began to pace around the table while messing with a satchel on his hip. "This morning, I was in charge of the roughest, dumbest bunch of shithead former ganger marines on this side of the homeworld. There were hundred of the bastards and each one was more unruly than the last. Myself and Sergeant Elway spent our days and nights wrangling these dumb bastards and making sure they stayed in line. You have taken me away from that assignment."

Having made a full lap around the table, Killroyal stopped again at the head and put his hands on the back of the chair he'd been sitting in-- giving everyone a good stare as he went even more on. "Because of this, I want you all to know that I love you. I value you as if you were my children, beautiful sons and daughters who I will protect with every once of my being because you are so precious and I loved fucking the shit out of your mother all those times. That said, there's gonna be some changes around here."

Killroyal stuck out a hand, which Elway immediately filled with a small pile of patches. He looked at them to make sure he liked what he saw before explaining, "I fucking hate P3C's. Vile, filthy beasts. Disgusting. This squad will have no P3C's."

He fixed Eli with a harsh glare. "Garvey, I like you, you remind me of my actual son, except not in prison. Have a fucking promotion, son."

Then Alistair. "Thorn, I don't like you at all. You look like a wire-headed weasel. Perhaps a promotion will endear you to me-- so have a fucking promotion, kid."

This was punctuated by tossing two P2C rank patches to their new respective owners, the soft-backed embroidery sliding across the smooth table. Killroyal looked at everyone else now and settled back into his chair. "Now, that bullshit is handled. Elway, dossier."

Sergeant Elway at this point wordlessly pressed a datapad into Killroyal's waiting hand. The Sergeant scanned it for a moment and then set it aside, downed his entire glass of scotch, and went about pouring himself a glass of gin while he said, "I saw the boarding operation you kids went on, looked at the camera records. Good moves, nice murdering for amateurs. Mediocre for professionals. I'm told that we don't specialize in murdering people, but I've always felt that to be bullshit. We will work on your mudering skills some more in the field tomorrow, but right now we are going to sit here and make some pleasant fucking conversation over drinks until our new Freespacers show up. By the way, more Freespacers are showing up, so get some of that pent-up racism out of your system while you still outnumber them. By the way, Phase, Keid, I love you anyway because you are my children even if you are vile metal abominations."

A silence passed for a moment before Black grunted again, snapping his fingers. "Elway, break the gods-be-damned ice."

Sergeant Elway somehow visibly sighed without audibly sighing and then approached the table, suggesting, "Perhaps everyone should talk about their first sortie together, what it was like working together, or maybe comment on the quality of the alcohol on this vessel."

 

[Gunhand4171]

As the team made there way into the wardroom, they were greeted by there new COs, and a ton of alcohol. "This has to be some kind of trick." Alistair thought. He brought up the Commandant's profile on his cyber eye as he began his monologue.

As Black started his speech, it sounded promising. At least this time his CO hadn't yelled at him for looking at him wrong. Then Black started his promotions. "I fucking hate P3C's. Vile, filthy beasts. Disgusting. This squad will have no P3C's." He told Eli he liked him and threw him a patch. "Wow he really likes us? It is the first time we have even seen this guy. We haven't even spoken yet!" Alistair thought, happy that his new command liked them already. Then it all changed very fast. "Thorn, I don't like you at all. You look like a wire-headed weasel. Perhaps a promotion will endear you to me-- so have a fucking promotion, kid."

"...Well...shit..." And just like that Alistair was back on the bottom of the totem poll he thought. He caught the new patch while still watching Black with his unblinking cyber eye. He was pissed now. "He is really going to judge me for something I had no control over. THEY did this to me. THEY ruined my damn life. The Deckers took my sister from me." Just thinking about them brought Alistair's blood to a boil. His fists were balled up so tight his knuckles turned white.

Once Black finished his speech, Alistair grabbed the closest bottle of Whiskey and poured himself a triple shot. He tossed it back like it was nothing and went for another. He thought it wasn't his place to speak since he didn't even participate in the mission. All he said was "Good whiskey." with an emotionless face.

 

[Deathevn]

It was hard for Eir not to salute when she came into the room. Her hand twitched for the briefest moment as she fought the reaction, but that passed fairly quickly as she sat with the others and Killroyal gave one of the more interesting introductions Eir had heard in her life.

It was then he started handing out the ranks like candy, and Eir was not happy. She didn’t mind at all that Eli and Alistair shared the same rank as her; rather she was concerned about their ability to respond with what people expected of the rank. If one of them were separated from the unit, it might put other units at risk. She tried to avoid it, but she found it difficult not to get a little thin-lipped in disappointment.

It was also hard for Eir to tell if Killroyal was being sarcastic, or was honestly enthusiastic about his new group. She had never met a mountain of a man quite like him. Normally she would never drink until she was she was given leave, but today had been a hell of a day and in the face of her command getting swapped so suddenly she was not going to fight the impulse. She reached for the bottle of Vodka, popping the top and pouring herself a small glass, no tumblers being available. She then took a simple sip of it and had to perk up a bit. It had a perfect, smooth texture, completely unlike the crap they had to put up with as Marines.

“Actually, I can’t lie, this is quite good. Way better than what we normally get.” She smiled and looked to their new command structure. “Best enjoy it while we have it.” She raised her glass towards Killroyal. “Sir, you will have to excuse me, but I have to ask. Isn’t this outfit a bit below your pay grade? I understand that you want to include the officer’s touch in what we are doing. The situation with the 'Spacers is on edge and making sure your troops are properly representing the marines is important. Well, there are only five of us - in theory tasked to do simple boarding operations.” She shrugged and leaned more heavily back in her chair; protocol seemed like something the Commandant did not keep much stock in. “In this situation it just strikes me that we simply do not have that high of a level of importance to the operation and well being of this fleet or its objectives.”

 

[Born-On-Board]

Eli picked up the tab in front of him, completing the symbolic transition from P3C to P2C. He smiled at the commandant, bright white teeth briefly standing in stark contrast to his dark skin. P2C was good - more money could go home. He wasn't so foolish to think that every promotion would be this easy, but it seemed the boot-rumors were true; there were a lot of commands in the Nepleslian military that just jumped their P3C's up a rank, time-in be damned.

There just wasn't a whole lot of difference between the two grades.

He fingered the patch in his hands, flipping it over a few time before pocketing it. He'd have to sew it on later. The array of alcohols in front of him were staggering - all brands kept in locked cabinets at the liquor stores he grew up around (and occasionally robbed, let's not be coy). He had to drink something to be polite, even though he didn't really feel like alcohol at the moment, and the sudden choice available to him was a little bit overwhelming.

A familiar label shown out like a beacon. Eli reached for the bottle, not really believing such a thing could've possibly been brought out with the 'good stuff', but there it was. A simple bottle of malt liquor, cheap, brown-bag stuff, favored by the homeless, downtrodden, and destitute. He laughed, the way someone might chuckle when greeted by an old friend they'd never thought they'd see again, and cracked the bottle, drinking straight from it.

"Mos' righteous of you sir." Eli said, finally, by way of thanks. He threw a concerned look at Alistair consuming a triple-finger of whisky before continuing.

Eir spoke then, and Eli nodded patiently as she had her say. She raised a lot of valid points - the importance of the mission and the effort being put into it just didn't seem to mesh. Today had been long, hard, and most distressingly to the military mind, uncertain. There was a lot of comfort in routine, and although they were successful, there was a lot of things that just didn't click, mistakes that were made by all parties - Eli remember a few of his own, feeling a dull tinge of guilt.

"Eir... maybe we ain't that important to dem fleet and such..." Eli said, voicing out his thoughts as he went, "But den maybe de fleet ain't puttin' in deh amount of effort it should be when yeh tink about it."

He struggled with the next part. He wasn't dumb, but years of a life that had emphasized animal cunning over thinking things through had definitely taken their toll on him.

"Beg yeh pardon to speak about yeh, sir." Eli eventually said, "But I tink deh reason, Eir, we seein' an officer now is because maybe someone recognized dat... dat makin' nice wit' one of our only two real friends, deh other bein' Lor was ver' important. More important den command really thought, seh yea. "

"An' maybe dats why he's here. Er, why you're here. Sir." Eli nodded in Commandant Black's direction. "Because even if dem Fleet don't put 'nuff people on deh job, dat don't mean we still can't do a good job."

He looked embarrassed. "Ah, dat's at least deh way I see it, mon. I sure ain't a genius, yeh mark my word."

 

[Gunhand4171]

As Alistair finished his second glass of whiskey, he started to feel a little better. He accepted the fact he would have to work hard to make his team see that he was worthy of his new patch. He was going to earn it.

Eir spoke then, raising some valid points. Then Eli started to speak, throwing Alistair a worried glance. Alistair turned and gave him a slight encouraging smile. Eli continued on with his idea, and it actually made sense.

"I agree Eli. I for one intend to prove the big wigs up stairs that we are the best damn marines in the galaxy." Alistair said tossing back another drink. "Anyway, thank you sir for the promition, this amazing whiskey, and the lovely complement." He jested, nodding towards Commandant Black. "I didn't get to see any action beyond basic, but my ugly wire head and I can't wait for the chance to prove our selves." He said tapping his implant. As Alistair did so, he visibly relaxed a little. He knew that snide comment would probably get him lower on the totem poll, but hey, you can't get any lower than he was now right?

He flashed a grin at Eli, and continued his drinking. "Maybe I will try the rum next?" He wondered.

 

[Syaoran]

It was rather easy for Linda to not salute when she entered the room, in fact saluting was something she despised for the frequency it was expected and the lack of purpose other than to enforce the hierarchy. So she moved into the room silent and sat down. She didn't have to be told twice to grab a drink either, grabbing a bottle of liqueur and opened it, taking a swig. Her expression was obviously frustrated but she said nothing and just let the Commandant speak.

The promotions were a slight surprise but in the end it was just validating that they had done some actual work and weren't still fresh from boot camp. What really through her for a loop though was the manner of speaking the officer used, not that it was unusual for a Nepleslian officer, but that it was hard to gauge what the man was actually feeling with how he did it, and that bothered her. Not being able to read him would make her job difficult to say the least.

As everyone spoke back and forward she looked back to her Data Jockey and attempted to bring up Black's personnel file but she wasn't sure if they would give it to her with his rank. "I do have a bit of a question. What do you, Commandant Black, think of our current assignment?"

 

[Moogle]

Phase left their larger body outside the room once more (Really, the Freespacer decided, it was a waste of time to leave the room in the first place. They'd just send their big body to do the dirty work next time and chill somewhere nice) and entertained the proceedings with bright blue ovals for eyes illuminating their glassy face.

Vile Metal Abomination? they analyzed, picking out the tone and intent with the words. It wasn't rocket science to figure out that themarmander or whatever silly lofty rank he had was sarcastic. Or joking. Or in some third realm of extradimensional metahumour. But in all cases, it was said in good jest.

"Ah, ah, that is alright," they said in that coy voice that once again would remind all in the room that it was probably sourced from a Yamataian pornstar, "I find your organic-self-replication fascinating but disgusting for its inefficiencies."

They stayed largely quiet for everybody else to get their say in, instead fishing out a sticky note from some hidden nook in their right arm and writing a little something* on it. The larger body reached a gangly arm through the door, dangling the datapad from before within the smaller's reach. Phase took the pad from themselves and stuck the note on, then casually presented it to Killroyal.

*"Got this on the ship we raided. I was going to download and decrypt it myself, but I could just get your hardware to do it for less effort."

 

[Lamb]

In the hangar of the NSS Ulfbhert, ships were still coming and going from the massive mixed Nepleslian and Freespacer fleets just outside. Presumably, there was still some kind of diplomacy going on in the Captain's Quarters, but no one had been invited to those proceedings. Instead, it was just accepted that people of many shapes and sizes were coming and going. As yet another shuttle arrived in the hangar, two marines watched on, one on his smoke break, the other on his coffee break. In the far corner of the hangar, Cloudheart still lingered with her face pressed up against Harmonious Solarsailor's hull. The two seemed to be having a quiet conversation now, perhaps reveling in days of old, or perhaps just exchanging information about whatever all the hubbub was going on in the otherwise normally unimpressive carrier.

One of the arriving shuttles settled down onto the hangar deck with a quiet thud as it came to rest on it's landing skids. The shuttle had come from one of the Freespacer ships that had been far out on the rim. Inside, the single passenger set her empty juice box in the trash receptacle, thanked the living shuttle for a nice flight and the conversation on FTL drive technology. She sealed her faceplate, then walked to the exit hatch, which slid open to allow her out.

This Freespacer was over six foot tall and clad head to toe in a sleek polished black metal suit, something akin to power armor, though not as bulky as the stuff used by the Nepleslians. Her shiny black armor was accented by various blue lights and a long mane of glowing blue 'hair' that flowed town to her hips, really a mass of fiber optic cable. Her face was masked by the domed faceplate of her armored helmet, though a hint of her glowing pink eyes could be seen though the tinted plate.

The Freespacer took a couple steps away from the shuttle craft and looked around for her point of contact.

If she could feel through her armor, she would felt the skinny arms reaching around her from behind. Instead, she likely got a proximity alert or something before the tug of a squeeze came along with a soft, yet pleasant, "Hello, Gearhead."

The armored Freespacer looked for the source of the skinny noodle arms and the voice. "Hello" she replied in a mechanical artificial sounding voice, as produced by her suit's vocal modulator.

Cloudheart released her prey and allowed her fellow Spacer to face her, waving her hands at the other spacer with an enthusiastic smile. "I am Mindtwister Cloudheart Nixton Nine-nine!" She greeted, pressing some of her curls away from her face, "And I am the Free State Liaison! I heard you were coming, and they told me you would look just like this."

"Nice to meet you, Mindtwister Cloudheart Nixton Nine-nine. I am Gearhead Halcyone Three-seven" she replied and her helmet faceplate slid open, revealing Halcyone's face, pale. pretty with blue eyebrows and glowing pink eyes. "How are you?" she asked pleasantly, smiling softly at the liaison, her voice now lacking the mechanical artificiality of her helmet's vocal modulator.

"I'm great! I finally met someone really special in person today~ And I'm going to be meeting a whole bunch of new friends, yourself included! And another, right here, almost precisely right now!" To illustrate that she was searching for her other new friend, Cloudheart spread her feet and held a hand over her eyes as a visor, scanning the hangar and the arriving shuttles for her target. To assist in this endeavor, a tiny pair of spider legs emerged from a messenger bag on here back, giving way to six more tiny legs which scuttled up her arm and perched a tiny metal thorax on her left shoulder-- complete with an adorable sensor-dome-on-a-stick for a head. This miniature junker extended its sensor dome so it was just a few inches taller than the little girl and twisted around, also examining the surroundings.

"A lot of people coming for this?" Halcyone asked. "I have not been told much more than I was needed, since an engineer was needed." She leaned in, taking a good look at the little spider bot that had climbed onto Cloudheart's shoulder.

At this point another shuttle came screaming in, the skid plates hit the deck and it screeched across the decking until it's forward momentum was spent. The Shuttle itself was sentient and started screaming for it's occupant to leave before she transported it and itself to the core of the nearest star. The hatch blew open and a figure emerged saying that it was sure that the shuttle could use an enema for its main power systems.

Dr. Domicile stood there for a moment with her head cocked to the side trying to figure out why the shuttle was so upset over the incident. She wore a vac suit that looked like it had been patched worked from at least six different models and colors. She whistled and called for 'Sweety' to come out and join her. A pink FARS GP unit carrying a doctor's tool bag came zipping out and hovering next to her. "Well I guess they don't like us..." She said to Sweety before turning and walking towards the others in the hangar.

As the shuttle came screeching in to a near crash landing, Halcyone took a couple steps back, for safety, and sealed up her helmet.

"There's the other new friend I was telling you about!" Cloudheart cheered, both ignoring Halcyone's question and jumping up and down with a pointed finger. She smiled at the engineer one more time and then jogged off to meet Domicile with a bounce in her step. When she pulled up at the doctor, her tiny junker dismounted by skittering down her leg and moving in close to inspect Sweety, its tiny sensor dome bobbing and tilting to see the other tiny unit from different angles. Meanwhile, Cloudheart opened her arms, ready to receive a hug from her new friend. "Hello, Vidscholar! This one needs a hug from you!"

The helmeted medic looked over at the counselor before nodding, "Sweety please give This One a hug for us. Also check its vitals and make sure you take their temp the 'correct way'." A faint giggle could be heard from under the helmet at the correct way comment.

Sweeting proceded to fly up to Cloudheart and with its mechanical arms giver her a hug before a light worked up and down her body. Then pulling a long skinny thing out of its bag it spoke for the first time. "P134$3 DR0P Y0UR L0W3R G4RM3N7$"

Cloudheart giggled at the thing, pretending that it was tickling her despite it not tickling her at all, then snatched it and held it tight against her chest. "You can't put things in anybody's butt unless we're in the shower, junkcase." She chided, basically letting everyone know that she was never to be showered with for any reason what-so-ever. "Besides, we don't have time for any of that, we've got a meeting to get to! But first, introductions." The tiny Spacer pressed the disc-like thing into its master's hands and stepped back, spreading her arms to indicate Halcyone.

"This is Gearhead Halcyone Three-Seven, you guys." She said, then twisted her hands to point thumbs at herself, "And I'm Mindtwister Cloudheart Nixton Nine-nine."

Halcyone nodded to the newcomer, "Hello" she said, again in her mechanical sounding voice, keeping her helmet closed this time. "How are you?"

"I am fine.. Though I think that shuttle is upset with me... I don't know why..." A young voice came drifting out of the speaker port on the helmet, which was a smooth, rounded surface of yellow laquer interrupted by speakers at the jaw and a trio of tiny glowing lenses giving off a soft emerald light where otherwise a visor would be.

"That was just Stargazer Dipstick Three-three," Defended Cloudheart with a dismissive wave, "They are literally always like that. The entire cycle! But that's not important. We have to go, because we are already late! There is a group of friends that we're going to meet and I'm super-excited to see them all. Some of them are Nepleslians, and others are not Nepleslians. I think you can both agree that this is an exciting and fun new prospect for us all."

At the mention of leaving, the tiny junker that had up until now kept its sensor dome focused on Sweety skittered up Cloudheart's leg and stuffed itself back into her bag before sticking its tiny dome-head out once more just to peer at the three of them one more time before retreating completely into the bag.

"Okay" Halcyone said and fell in with them as they left where they had been all standing.

Wathcing Sweety fly back to its preprogrammed position above her right shoulder, Dom stepped forwards and followed the rest of them. She had fooled the shuttle and now so far these two that not only she was an adult but a real medical professional. The game would have to continue or they might airlock her.

As the trio of new Spacers left the hangar, the two marines who'd been on break shared a glance between themselves. The one on his coffee break sipped from his mug, eyebrows still raised at the other; who shrugged and tossed his cigarette into the crevice of a passing shuttle-- binding it for a journey on the stars.

Freespacers, they seemed to tell each other, they're just like that.

-----

Themarmander Black took the datapad in one hand, then held it over a shoulder, interrupting his nodding along with everyone else to snap, "Elway!"

Masterfied Surgureon Elway immediately took the thing away and left the room with it, giving a look of silent thanks to Phase for unintentionally rescuing from his thankless and long-suffering work for a time. Not that he wanted to leave his Themarmander's side; but everyone needed a break sometimes, right?

"Now, frankly, to answer all of your questions at once, I couldn't give a dank fuck." Black resettled into his chair and struck a match on the shoulderboard of his uniform. Presently, a thin cigar appeared in his other hand and he spoke around it while he set it ablaze. "This sure is below my pay grade. Six feet beneath it. As I said, Command is as replete with wisdom as they are young and handsome."

Killroyal stopped a moment to puff away at the Freudian snack in his mouth and remove a box of the same from his satchel, sliding it towards the middle of the table for others to take from. He was the sort who hated a meeting without libations. In a perfect world, there'd probably also be a plate of untouched hors d'oeuvre which would draw ire from the officer for being 'basically Yammie food, as dumb as it is'. In this reality, there were cigars and booze-- which were adequate compensation for listening to a guy go on.

"Like I said before," He went on, waving some of the smoke from his eyes, "I don't honestly care what their motivations are, nor do I plan to live up to them. My objective is to conduct training exercises and joint boarding operations, and that's what I'll do-- politics be damned. I'm just thrilled beyond dicks to be removed from my former post as the Training Coordinator at what Elway and I have privately called Fort Dumbshits."

While he was talking at this point, Linda was finally able to retrieve some records for the man. What was publicly available was less than sparse, and painted a picture of a man who might've been some sort of unsung hero for Nepleslia. His confirmed kill count numbered higher than he was in centimeters and his operational history placed him in some major turning points in Nepleslian history. He'd served the Red Faction before the succession, and defected just in time to turn around and slaughter a great deal of his former comrades during the civil war. Against the squids he'd fielded no challenge, and in counter-piracy operations his ruthlessness was well-documented. There were a trio of classified segments in his history, gaps in an otherwise perfect career. Two were less than three months in length, but the third and most recent was nearly a year. All was not lost, however; for Linda was IPG, and therefore she was kindly alerted that authorization could be granted for her to view those records if she were to simply contact the custodian of that information; an IPG agent by the name of Maxwell Jaeger, the head of the agency's Kovax System office. It seemed that if she wanted to see what was so fishy that it had to be classified, she'd have to pursue the matter further and message the Kovax office.

As if he could somehow tell someone was looking him up, Killroyal opened his mouth to make some explanation of his deep and troubled, no doubt mysterious history. What he said would dispel any of the shadows around his record and reveal his truest nature to those around the table with him-- settling several chapters worth of potential intrigue surrounding the meaty Commandant (Themarmander). "W--"

"Helloooo!" Suddenly, Cloudheart was there. With her white curls bouncing and her diatoms glittering in the low light of the conference room, the small Freespacer appeared in the doorway with such sudden clamor that Killroyal started and turned quick on her, his hand diving for an impliment that would've likely ended her were he a few years younger.

"Who the fuck are you!?" He barked.

"I'm Mindtwister Cloudheart Nixton Nine-nine, and I'm the Free State Liaison. But you may call me Cloudheart, because we are friends." Explained his new friend, just before bouncing up to the officer and leaning forward to get a good close look at him through her blue metal spheres. "And I like your hat. It's the coolest."

Black looked the creature before him up and down, reaching for the peaked cap on his head that all DIoN officers were issued. He wasn't entirely sure if he was dealing with a small girl or a young boy-- but something in his cold heart melted, just a little.

"Well, here, then. Have a fucking hat, kid." He said, shoving the headwear into her excited and waiting hands. Cloudheart immediately donned the garment and twirled in it, admiring how she imagined she must look with the articles of command about her. It was too big, and it tilted lazily to one side as she came to a stop to wrap her arms around the beastly officer, adding, "And the two people behind me are Gearhead Halcyone and Vidscholar Domicile, and they are also your new friends, too."

Killroyal looked over the arms wrapped around him, wide and murderous eyes scanning the table and daring anyone to say anything about this situation. Eventually, he cleared his throat and pushed Cloudheart off of himself, explaining, "Glad you're fuckin' happy, little girl. Now sit down and close your food swallower."

"So," began Cloudheart as she scuttled over to a chair, ignoring the order to shut her chewing apparatus, "What's everyone talking about!?"

 

[Deathevn]

Eir was not particularly happy with the response she got from Killroyal, but if that was all the Commandant knew she could hardly hold it against him.

She was looking forward to what Killroyal was about to start speaking of, when a cute little boy showed up in the room. That was confusing enough but when the little one, now apparently a girl, spoke again, she could hardly believe it. Little Cloudheart was their liaison directly to the free state. This confusion was smoothed out to some degree, but Killroyal bent over to give his hat to Cloudheart and as he threatened the room with his gaze Eir had enough sense to hide her broad smile behind her glass and the chuckle that came with it behind the vodka itself.

Eir let her gaze linger over the other two ‘Spacers, where Cloudheart was downright disarming. Those two brought up concerns of their own. One seemed already armored up for some sort of battle; the other looked like it was in some sort of hazmat suit. They were a little more unsettling, but rather in the normal ‘Spacer way. Everyone knew they were weird. She was happy though that ‘Spacers where now officially Killroyal’s friends, and not hers yet.

“We were just talking about our mission, Miss Cloudheart.” Eir found herself a bit lost on how ‘Spacer politicians enjoyed their formalities. Eir was not going to be the first one to burn that bridge on day one.

“Commandant, you said you had mur– … training exercises planned for tomorrow? Do you have a specific exercise in mind, or will we be sitting on call for the next boarding that needs to be done?”

 

[Gunhand4171]

Alistair was finishing a glass of rum when the strangest thing happened. A little girl walked in. Alistair was shocked at first, thinking he drank way too much. No way there would be a little girl in here, right? When everyone else was as shocked as he was, Alistair was relieved. Not only was he not crazy, but now he could try the gin!

As he poured a new glass of alcohol, Alistair stared at the new arrivals hoping that they were not completely insane. He did like Cloudheart though. She reminded Alistair of his little sister Mia. So full of wonder and so naive. He smiled behind his gin as she embraced the Commandant. In that instant, he missed his baby sister even more than ever. He promised himself that when he got some shore leave, he would put new flowers on her grave.

Alistair began to tear up, but quickly wiped them away and downed another glass of gin, trying to numb his emotions. He turned his attention back to the table as Cloudheart jumped into an empty chair. Alistair turned to their new liaison. "Hello Ms. Cloudheart, its a pleasure to meet you." he said as he gave a friendly smile. He then turned to the other freespacers and gave a friendly nod, not saying anything since they had choose not to speak yet. He was hoping to make the new comers feel welcome.

He turned back to Black awating his answer to Eir's question.

 

[Yoshi]

Miss. Dr. Domicile stood there silently behind Cloudheart, she was a bit delicious, she wanted an awesome hat too. But she had to play the adult here. She wasn't a kid... No not at all... So she looked up above her shoulder at Sweety and pointed to a corner for it to wait in. Zipping off the FARS unit reached the corner and hovered holding a brown leather medical bag.

"Smoking? Do you know how many carcinogens there are in that one cigar alone, let along the rest of that box?" she frowned under her helmet thanking the fact the air filters in her vac suit would filter it out. "I wouldn't be surprised to find you dead by the end of the week. Though i know of a procedure that might prolong your lifespan." It was a good a holy thing that the helmet covered her grin.

"I hope that you are also away that second hand smoke can be just as deadly if not more so then first hand." she walked forward and pulled the cigar straight from the man's mouth and stubbed it out on the table before him. "I think you would benefit more from these." She pulled out a few hard lemon candies from her pocket along with a lollipop and set them down before him.

 

[Lamb]

"I have a two-fold plan for tomorrow." Explained Commandant Black, puffing away on his cigar, "If I can't get Elway to scare up a good ship for everyone to board, we'll be running combatives as soon as--"

Suddenly, Doctor Domicile had taken it upon herself to crusade for the health of a man who for a living murdered anyone he met that wasn't wearing the same color uniform as he was. Slowly widening eyes watched as the cigar was stamped out, a twitching cheek serving as the only indicator that the officer wasn't frozen in place.

A thick and calloused hand rested itself on Dom's shoulder. The Commandant's eyes were wide, his face shining with the intensity typically reserved for hearing insults to one's wife and country. He squeezed the doctor's shoulder, perhaps a little too hard. Perhaps way too hard. The fabric of her vacuum suit wrinkled under his touch; clearly the Commandant was struggling not to put his aforementioned murdering skills to use.

"I am touched by your concern for my health." He said, sounding not at all touched by her concern. That fearsome grip dug deeper, and a vein in the Commandant's neck began to swell as he explained, "However, I will assure you that your concern is not recommended because I care so very much for your own personal health as my new daughter."

Cloudheart leaned over at this point to Alistair and Eir, whispering to them, "He's such a nice man."

 

[Syaoran]

Linda had begun to understand the Commandant after hearing his reply to the question, and that was good. However the classified material in his background was troubling her even more so than the fact that he used to be a Red and turned on them apparently without much trouble. She made a mental note that she would have to send in the request for clearance at a later time, she wasn't going to do it in front of her CO.

She was ready to hear Black speak , likely about his history that Linda was overtly looking up, but instead she got a loud voice and a small figure asserting them self into the conversation. She claimed to be the Freespacer liaison and if that was the case, this assignment was about to become much more of a headache. However Cloudheart seemed to have a rather good grasp on how to manipulate Black, and that was a good sign, though Linda didn't have a 'childish charm' she could use to persuade him, her high collar hiding the wide smile she had at the situation.

Before they would get back on topic the one claiming to be Dr.Domicile made a move that caused the IPG operator to question if she had a death wish. Taking the cigar from a marine officer and snuffing it out right in front of them was bold, right up there with shooting someone's mom in front of them. The Commandant was showing remarkable levels of self control though, he had not snapped Domicile's neck not struck her yet.

"I believe you were about to say something Commandant Black? Perhaps elaborate on your background a little and start friendly conversation?"

 

[Lamb]

The grip loosened, the beast having been distracted much like an adorable cat or a child. His widened eyes narrowed over Linda's form, considering the spook evenly. It wasn't often an IPG agent asked for one to elaborate on their background, or rather: never so directly. It was as if a SAINT agent had waltzed into the room chasing after a ball of yarn, stopping to purr and ask off-handedly, 'Nyakara, you people have some secrets des' ka?' At least, that was what Killroyal imagined an incompetent SAINT agent would do. Perhaps this image amused him, for though his face didn't soften by much he removed his hand entirely from the Spacer's shoulder, turned, and explained, "Well, I grew up in Funky City like a lot of us. Ran in an airbike gang, like some of us. Was dissatisfied with their lack of organization when murdering people, like a few of us. Decided to find and join the most sophisticated force of socially accepted murderfication in the galaxy at that point."

It was all right there in Black's psych profile, of course. The last evaluation he had presented it most clearly from years of data. The Commandant would've, in another career path, likely ended up as a serial killer or a spree shooter. He was well aware of his own thirst for blood and his unnatural fixation with ending lives, but unlike most murderers who dressed as clowns or became blood spatter analysts in popular television shows, Killroyal had found a productive outlet for his artistic passion. As far as anyone was aware, he'd yet to kill anybody who wasn't already marked for death by the government. Or perhaps those black spots on his record...? No, couldn't be. An officer like that, it'd be career suicide. No one would cover up something like that. Would they?

Sergeant Elway came back. He fixed Diharmonious Phase with a blank gaze, then a nod. Whatever had happened with her datapad, it was still gone, but her contribution was acknowledged. The mohawked batman (Thanks, CadetNewb~) moved around the table, sliding a gloved hand across Phase' shoulder while he passed. Eventually, he found himself just behind Killroyal's left shoulder again, where he belonged. Domicile still stood between him and the table, so he stuck a hand between her and Killroyal, for a handshake, saying quietly, "Doctor Domicile, I presume?"