[C-Deck] Induction Day

[Durant, M.]

0900 Hours, May 19, 2542 (MILITARY CALENDAR) /
Aboard UNSC Vengeance in orbit over Sigma Octanus IV,
Sigma Octanus System

It had been two and half long weeks since the botched operation aboard the UNSC Templar, most of it having been spent in cryo as per protocol during slipspace travel. The Vengeance had arrived in the Sigma Octanus System approximately one Earth day ago, and since then the crew of the ship had spent most of that time bringing supplies aboard or venturing outside the hull to make long overdue repairs from damage incurred during space battles past.

Early yesterday morning the Company Commander had dropped by Lieutenant Durant's office and had informed him that today they would be receiving a long list of replacements for the Marines lost on the Templar and at Hydra III. The files of each of the Marines to be assigned under his command had already been sent to his personal computer via PERSCOM, and he'd spent most of the previous day reviewing them. Most of the ones going to Third Squad were fairly new to the Corps, with only a handful of vets among them, and personally Michael wished he could say different about the Marines he would be assigning to the other two squads.

It seemed that the longer the war carried on, the more experienced combat veterans fell in short supply. Too many dead heroes, Durant thought grimly. Sometimes he found himself wondering when his time would come, as it seemed no matter how hard one fought, the Covenant eventually overpowered and defeated everyone.

No. He couldn't think like that, and he wouldn't. The moment he stopped believing that humanity had a fighting chance was the day he would see an end to it. He had to remain positive and motivated, if not for the sake of his morale, but of his Marines.

Durant banished these thoughts from his mind as he ventured down the long stretch of corridor that would inevitably lead him into the hangar bays. Keeping stride beside him was Staff Sergeant Cruz, whom he had had a long talk with a couple weeks ago about his little stunt that landed him at the brunt of an NJP from the battalion's executive officer. Unsurprisingly, the grizzled platoon sergeant seemed apathetic to the news, and continued to carry on about his business as if nothing happened.

Michael wasn't quite sure whether he hated or admired that about the man.

Reaching the end of the corridor, Durant headed for the door into hangar C-1. According to the flight log and the company commander, that was where he would be meeting the fresh blood for Second Platoon. The Lieutenant stepped toward the set of double doors, which automatically parted upon detecting his and the Staff Sergeant's presence, and together they made their way into the massive hangar.

The two made their way over to the only vacant landing pad and halted just before it. Michael glanced at his watch and noted the time. According to what he had been told, the Pelican transporting their new arrivals from the surface of the planet onto the Vengeance wasn't due to arrive for another seven minutes.

Durant sighed and looked over at the Staff Sergeant. "So, did you read the files I forwarded you on our new people?"

((OOC: Okay, so this is how this is gonna work: you have seven minutes in-game time to chat and conversate aboard the Pelican as it heads for the ship. Basically, once everyone of you has each posted twice, I will post saying the Pelican arrives in the hangar.

To everyone else, I am leaving the B-Deck thread open for a couple more days so everyone can wrap up any ongoing RP you have going on with another character. Once everyone has wrapped things up, I'll locked the Meetings, Patch-Ups, and Downtime thread and move it to the Past Operations area. Right now, only Cruz, myself, and our newbies can post in this thread (unless you PM me and give me a good reason why your character would be present. That is all.))

[Stringer, K.]

Stringer sits there in the pelican, knowing they were en-route to a UNSC ship. He didn't know much, only that after his previous engagement, and the battle that was the bulk of Operation: Grand Slam, that his old unit was being disbanded and re-organized into other units. That's what lead Stringer to his ride through space, in friendly space for once. He was being transferred to a new unit. He did manage to get what unit out of the officer who came to get him from his barracks aboard the UNSC Hammer of Prosperity and take him out of the 128th Infantry Battalion. His new unit: 27th Marine Expeditionary Unit, 12th Regiment, 1st Battalion, Oscar Company, Second Platoon.

He only knew what unit, and nothing more. Nothing about the people in it, how they normally operate, or what he would be in this unit. He was hoping to remain a scout at least, because he wanted to keep this new unit safe. Safer than how his previous squad-mates were now. Two of them dead, one severely injured. Stringer knew Sergeant Woodcrest would live, but she was out of the fight for a while. So, he was doubting he would ever see her again. He knew he would not see the rest of his old squad for sure, which was sad, but Stringer seen people die before. In this war, it was more than common. It was expected to have casualties, especially when facing the Covenant.

For now though, he didn't want to think about the war. He was wondering what his new home would be, and who with. He sat there, starboard side of the pelican, last seat towards the bay door. He sat there in his digital woodland BDU, wearing a boonie hat that he got when he passed scout training. His gear was stored in a foot locker and the rest of his gear and personal belongings in a bag. He looked around at the others. Some seemed like new bloods, a few like grizzled veterans by the scars he could see. Stringer knew he probably looked like a new blood, since his scar was on his back.

One however caught his eyes, a brunette sitting there with brown eyes. He looked her over, seeing her name tag read "Gray" across it. He decided maybe he might have a distraction from it all. He only had Rachel Woodcest before to flirt with, so he decided maybe he might try with this girl named Gray.

"Hey, "Gray", you got a first name? Names Kevin Stringer. Corporal Stringer, if you wish, but my friends call me Kevin or Kev."

[Ward, J.]

This was it. The culmination of months of arduous training that had been meant to shape him into a combat ready Marine. The day he'd graduated from the School of Infantry back on Reach, he had been informed by one of his combat instructors that he would be quickly shipped off to Sigma Octanus IV and tossed into a Marine unit. And so he had.

The last couple weeks had been an interesting affair for Private Jonathan Ward. A few days after his graduation he'd boarded a ship inbound for the not-too-distant Inner Colony and arrived roughly a week later (give or take a few days). Upon arrival he'd been transported to one of the many Marine bases planetside and spent the remainder of his time waiting to figure out where the Corps was going to place him.

Then yesterday one of the NCOs in his barracks came to him with a slip of paper and told him he'd be boarding a Pelican early the next morning to rendezvous with Oscar Company, Second Platoon, of the Twelfth Marine Regiment. Since then he was having trouble containing his excitement. Jon had spent his whole life waiting for this very moment.

Ever since he was a child he had wanted to follow in his father's footsteps; to serve humanity as a part of the best of the best of the UNSCDF. He could barely believe he was actually here, moments away from meeting the men and women he would come to know as fellow brothers and sisters-in-arms. He almost pinched himself to make sure he hadn't just been dreaming.

Almost.

Jon sat in the back of the Pelican's troop compartment, by the hatch to the cockpit. He could faintly hear the pilot conversing with someone over the radio, and he knew that that must have meant they were getting close. The more the seconds ticked by, the worse his anticipation became. He was almost antsy.

Ward craned his head to the left and eyed the other occupants of the troop compartment. Most of them seemed to be fresh boots just like himself, but he did notice a couple guys that looked like they had seen some action before. One in particular that stood out from the rest was a Corporal, dressed in digital fatigues and wearing a boonie as opposed to the charcoal grey fatigues everyone else wore.

He seemed to take notice of one of the other Marines on board, and started to converse with her. Jon followed the Corporal's eyes to the woman he was looking at, and noticed the rank pin on her uniform collar. She was a PFC, and it seemed to Ward that the Corporal was attempting to hit on her.

Probably not the smartest idea, but he was not in any place to say anything about it. He was just a private fresh out of training. What did he know?

"How much longer til this thing lands?" Ward asked to no one in particular. The more he waited, the more impatient he became.

He really wanted to meet his new unit.

[Gray, L.]

"We shall be arriving in seven minutes, Marines" said a voice crackling with static, as it came over the intercom. Louise Gray looked up at the sound of the voice and around the Pelican at her fellow marines who along with her, made up the new members of Second Platoon, Oscar Company, First Battalion, Twelfth Marines. Some of them were exchanging banter with each other, others like herself were just sat quietly gathering themselves for the meeting of their new commander that lay ahead.

Turning to the marine next to her, Louise looked into the familiar face of one of her boot camp friends who like her, had survived the Battle for New Madagascar, the previous year. "Hey how are you doing ?" she muttered quietly as she not seen her friend since they had been released from the hospital as they had been sent to different bases.

Her friend looked at her and equally quietly said "I'm doing ok, I'm pretty much healed now, just a little nervous about our new unit, What about you?" Louise gave a small smile as she was feeling exactly the same way. "I'm doing alright, better than I was anyways" she said, giving a sigh. It had been hard going, recovering from the aftermath of battle. Even now she could feel people staring at the scar on her cheek. Louise continued to converse with her friend about events leading to them heading for Oscar Company, for a few more minutes and showed her the new tattoo that she acquired on her inner left forearm. It consisted of her older brother Daniel's name, the unit he was in, the year of death and the initials of the battle in which he had been killed in, in simple lettering.

As conversation between them faded away, Louise idly wondered if she see her other older brother Jake ever again. As far as she was aware, he was still alive and serving as a corporal in Second Platoon, November Company, First Battalion, Twelfth Marines. Suddenly a movement out the corner of her eye made her look round. Someone, a corporal by the looks of it, was approaching her. He introduced himself as Corpral Kevin Stringer and asked her if she had a first name. "Is he hitting on me?" Louise thought as she blinked at him, momentarily surprised. "Louise, Private First Class Louise Gray, Corporal." she said finally.

[Stringer, K.]

Stringer sat there in his seat, hearing that the woman's first name was Louise. Louise Gray, Private First Class. Which meant, she wasn't a newblood. Stringer couldn't help but smile, knowing that this woman was interested enough to give him her first name. So, Stringer decided to see where this might go.

"Louise huh? I like it. Louise Gray. Has a nice ring to it. So, how long you been with the corps? I know you can't be new, considering you're a PFC. Plus, I'd like to know where you might have seen combat at, and if you are willing to tell, with who? I was with the 128th Infantry Battalion." Stringer waited, wanting to hear what the woman had to say. He did notice a scar on her left cheek. It was a long one, but Stringer saw it as a reason to stay at her. He did have to admit, she was cute.

He didn't look her down below the neck too much, for now. He didn't want to come off as a pervert. He did, eventually, want to try to get into her panties, but for now, he would make casual conversation. He did want to get to know her better, and maybe even try to go steady with this girl. It had been a while, so Stringer was eager to see if it might lead to some action, because if it did, this new unit would be worth the transfer. He will admit, he had fun flirting with Sergeant Rachel Woodcrest, but it lead to nothing, and god only knew, this marine has needs that only a woman could settle.

Stringer listened to what Louise had to say back, about her combat experience, unit history, and such, when the word came down that they would be arriving soon, so for now, he had a little time to talk to the woman. He would make sure to make every second count, because that is all they had left now, was time and little things in life. He was wanting to enjoy these things as much as he could, because if his last engagement taught him anything, it was that time made life too short, and bullets would make it even shorter for anyone who engaged the enemies of the UNSC, human or not.

[McMillan, J.]

James had spent the last year of his life aboard the UNSC Hopeful finishing up his OJT. While there he saw things things that he hadn't seen since Propitious, and so much more he had never imagined possible. It was amazingly informative and a great skill builder. He was thoroughly thankful to his NCO's while there for taking him under their wings. He was happy to finish his training formally. He was presented his caduceus a week ago. Since then he had been hopping rides all over the stars to get to the Pelican that would eventually take him to the UNSC Vengeance.

Mac was sitting in the troop bay strapped into his seat tightly listening to his cohorts chatter among themselves like house wives. He was ready to be off of the Pelican, hurry through indoc and get to work. He had heard scuttlebutt that corpsmen were in short supply aboard the UNSC Vengeance. Knowing that he had no desire to waste time. He started going through his bag inventorying his supplies. "It never hurts to be prepared" he muttered to himself. After his inventory he stowed his bag and got up to pace around the interior of the Pelican for a moment before they land to shake out the kinks. Jim looks over at PFC Gray noticing the scar on her cheek he makes a mental note, "most likely shrapnel."  

He returned to his seat and closed his eyes, inclining his head upwards resting it against the bulkhead. Thoughts of home flit through his mind and absent-mindedly he strokes his right forearm. He then focuses on the events that lead him to where he is in life at this very moment. It always comes back to them, the Covenant. He will do everything in his power to ensure that they are eradicated. He isn't the best fighter but he is surrounded by them and he will do anything to make sure they are capable of delivering his vengeance to the Covenant. "Fitting..." he mused the first part aloud "that they should station me on the UNSC Vengeance"  

[Gray, L.]

"Thanks" Louise said, whilst thinking "Okay he is definitely hitting on me". Stringer then spoke again, this time wanting to know how she had been with the corps and her combat experience. She hesitated ever so slightly before deciding to tell him. "I have been with the corps for two years. I requested to join the corps, two days after my high school graduation in 2540, following my dad who had been in the corps and also my two older brothers. Once I had completed boot camp and Infantry Training, I was shipped off to join the 710th UNSC Marine Division." she said in a low tone, as her eyes suddenly clouded over, almost as if shutters had come down behind them.

After stopping for the briefest of moments, she continued, however her voice had dropped even further at this point, it was so low that only Stringer and her friend sitting on the other side of her, were able to hear it. "My first and only combat experience so far came at Battle for New Madagascar, in 2541. We were fighting alongside the 712th UNSC Marine Division, which many of my friends and my oldest brother Daniel had joined. Our side eventually won, but not before both the 712th and the 710th were nearly wiped out, barring me and a handful of others from both Divisons." she said before stopping again.

As memories swirled through her mind, Louise shut her eyes momentarily, before opening them again, her gaze turning from one of pain, to one of anger. She then showed Stringer the tattoo on her inner forearm and gestured to the scar on her cheek. "I lost my oldest brother and many of my friends during that battle. That's when I got the scar on my cheek. I got that through flying shrapnel and there's one on my back from a large chunk of flying metal debris." She said softly.

Looking at Stringer fully for the first time since he had spoken to her, Louise gave the briefest of smiles." Once I had recovered from my injuries, I was told that I would be reassigned to Second Platoon, Oscar Company, First Battalion, Twelfth Marines. My other brother Jake is also in the First Battalion, Twelfth Marines serving as a corporal in Second Platoon, November Company. So here I am." She said, returning her gaze to the floor of the Pelican, hoping that he would not press her further, on her combat experience at least.

[Stringer, K.]

Stringer listened to Louise Gray tell him her combat experience. Hearing that her previous assigned station was all but wiped out, Stringer could only imagine the combat situation that she got herself in, especially being her first combat experience. Even worse was that the woman lost one of her brothers to the same combat she just experienced. He could only imagine how it was to have her brother get killed in the same fight as her. He didn't see his mother take her own life, but he did unfortunately see the result of the bullet impacting her skull and brain. Stringer could tell the woman was not comfortable talking about it, and he was beginning to regret asking her, so he decided to drop the discussion and change it to another subject.

He did hear it was because of flying shrapnel that she had the scar on her face, and another on her back one from flying debris. He could only imagine how horrible the pain could have been, but it showed that she was tough, despite taking such injuries in her first fight. He could only imagine how she might act come the second fight she would be in. He remembered his first combat experience with the Covenant, and how over-whelming it was. It was good however that her other brother was in the same battalion.

"Sorry to hear that Lousie. I lost my father to the Covenant when I was younger, and my mother committed suicide after he died because she couldn't stand not having him in our lives. That's why I joined up. I wanted to end these human hating alien sons of bitches." Stringer looked at her, sighing once before continuing.

"My first combat experience with the Covenant was on Omega Seven, where they attacked the civilian population and destroyed half the capital city. I went in with the 128th into the city, and we had a mechanized unit of warthogs that went in with us. We got ambushed and half the unit was either killed or injured. I made it out, but I was shot in the back a couple of times with plasma. Damn elite was invisible, but one of my squad-mates got him. I also was stabbed in my left should by a plasma sword. One of the two tips caught me there. I however got that alien SOB myself. Took a tooth a keepsake from that one.


"I got transferred here after my last combat engagement against the insurrection. We were trying to retake a food processing plant, when the squad I was assigned to had to go rescue two pilots after the innies shot down a longsword bomber. My squad leader was injured, and two others were killed, along with the pilot. The co-pilot and I were the only ones to make it out after the innies ambushed us." Stringer thought back to how his squad-mates died, along with the pilot, and how Sergeant Woodcrest was injured. He shook his head, trying to get rid of the thought.

"So, here I am now. A sharp shooting marine who is basically alone, trying to find what little fun there is left in this universe filled with human killing aliens, and trying to get rid of said aliens." Stringer looked over to Louise again and smile.

"Anyways, its good to hear your other brother in going to be in the same battalion. I too was assigned to second platoon. Its nice to get to know someone who I will be fighting aside. I also want you to know, I look after my friends and squad-mates, so if you are near me in combat, count on me to back you up." He decided to give her a thumbs up, smiling once more.

[Deleted]

 Arriving early as usual, and getting the farthest out of the way so to not potentially bothering anyone. Lance Corporal Baldwin sitting in the corner seat of the pelican, trying to not be noticed by the other marines. Listening to the dialog between the other passengers as they arrive. Some seem newer than me, some much more experienced, but that's just a casual external observation. Some even seem to know each other, and sit near each other.

 As we set off towards a new U.N.S.C. ship, he begins to wonder who these other marines were: are they in the same boat (figuratively and literally), or perhaps they're on the same team or even squad he is now in, maybe they are here as actors to observe him. Anxiety begins to eat at the back of his mind. "If these are my new comrades, I hope I don't let them down, like my last squad," he thinks to himself. Accidentally reminding himself of the fall of the Corinth research and development facility, brought shivers to his spine. Catching himself before the involuntary reaction became visible.

 One of the men starts hitting on one of the women, not in a physical sense, but attempting to make himself seem more desirable and attract her attention using specific and planed out vocabulary. Sadly Dirk never had the nerve to try this much less talk to a women he found attractive. She mentions that she voluntarily joined and lost people in her last engagement. The other man said that he joined by his own accord and also lost comrades. He now wonders if they would hate him for having to be drafted into service.

 Grabbing the troodon claw and holding it in his hand, Dirk offers a small prayer to his gods that all will be well. He stays sure to be quite while praying, and when done offers another for the people lost during this war. He begins to feel a bit cramped in the pelican, and shifts his thoughts to breathing. All his worries will be answered soon, and he could put his mind to rest. He finally turns his head to get a glance at everyone else.

[Durant, M.]

((OOC: I was gonna wait for Cruz to post tomorrow, however I found out this phone will be cut off at 0500 this morning, which means until Friday I will not be able to log in on the site. So I'm gonna go ahead and let him post. Cruz after this post will GM until Friday if necessary. Also, please everyone, write in the Third Person Past Tense style. Not first or third present tense. Thank you.))

Lieutenant Durant nodded at Staff Sergeant Cruz's words and looked forward, towards the landing pad that would in a few moments be where the Pelican transporting their new people would be. Part of him was apprehensive at meeting them, as there were so many of them that lacked combat experience. Those that did, only seemed to have fought the Covenant only a handful of times. The question rooted in the back of his mind was: how long would they last in his platoon?

Would they do well when it came time to face their worst nightmares face-to-face, or would they be more dead Marines to add to the list? It had been hard on him writing the letters to the families of all those lost on their last mission, offering his condolences and pretending he knew his they felt. The truth was that for a plethora of reasons he did not understand how they felt, nor could he ever fully relate to their pain. Durant was a man whom tried to see the bright side in death. Most would argue that there wasn't one at all. However, his beliefs disagreed with them. Warriors like the Marines that had just recently perished were ferried off into the great plane of existence that was Valhalla.

In his mind, and as per his beliefs, they got to carry on waging battle in the most honorable of ways against other fallen warriors, and even perhaps receive the honor of doing battle with the gods themselves. His deities were not omnipresent, they were an ever present part of his life. He knew through their teachings that the path to them was in a righteous, honorable death in the glory of battle.

The sound of doors opening drew Durant's attention, the thoughts subsiding as his eyes fell upon the Pelican slowly approaching the landing pad. It came to a hover above it, the rear hatch opening, and then descended upon the pad. When it touched down, the engines began to die down and the Pelican's crew chief stepped out, ushering the new people outside as well. Michael looked to Cruz and nodded at him.

Cruz nodded back, then turned and barked at the fresh replacements to fall in before them. Durant watched them as they fell in line in front of him and his platoon sergeant, scrutinizing each and every one of them intently.

The first person his eyes fell upon was the oddity in the group. The Marine who stuck out the most, almost as if that had been his intention all along. The patch on his blouse read "STRINGER," and instead of the cross-branch fatigues everyone else had taken to wearing, he wore a set of digital woodland cammies. Stringer's sleeves were rolled crisply at the biceps and he wore a matching boonie soft cover on his head.

He recalled reading Stringer's CSV when the company commander had sent him the files on their replacements. He was a designated marksman and a crack shot if his rifle qualification score was to be believed. He'd served with the 128th Infantry prior to his reassignment to Oscar Company, and had seen his fair share of combat action.

Next was a Lance Corporal by the name of Baldwin. Apparently he was a last minute replacement whom had seen limited combat on Corinth. He was rather short, but stocky. Michael could imagine seeing him wielding a rocket launcher with relative ease, and was glad to have another '52 under his command.

PFC Gray was a woman's file he'd paid special attention to because she shared a commonality with the platoon's resident German hothead, Corporal Faust. He noted the scar on her face and remembered from her file that it had been received from combat action with the 710th Division at New Madagascar. The Lieutenant found it unlikely that the paths of the PFC and Faust had ever crossed, but he couldn't entirely rule it out as a possibility.

The man who fell in beside Gray was a man that Durant knew Sergeant Stone would likely pay special attention to, having been with the platoon the longest -- even before the Staff Sergeant. Private Jonathan Ward seemed average to the Lieutenant. There wasn't anything really that remarkable about him. He couldn't say he looked like his father, as he'd never had the pleasure of meeting the man. It would be interesting to see what would happen with him.

Finally, Michael's cool gaze fell upon the platoon's new corpsman, CM3 McMillan. McMillan hadn't yet seen any combat to his knowledge, but he had spent time patching up wounded soldiers and Marines aboard a UNSC hospital ship for a year. That meant he was likely accustomed to witnessing some of the horrors that war brought with it, even if it was after the fact. His psyche evaluation depicted him as a man who cared for the adherence to regulation. A stickler.

He wondered if the Corpsman had said anything towards Corporal Stringer in regards to his choice in uniform.

Falling in behind the front row were the rest of the replacements. There were far too many to name, and most them hadn't seen much of any combat. Durant was still worried about how things would turn out with them, and he decided as an afterthought to schedule some training time in the simulators for his platoon so that he could get a chance to see them all in action. It would also let him see how they took orders, and a laundry list of other things he watched out for.

"Ahem," Durant said, clearing his throat to speak. "I'm Second Lieutenant Durant, and the stoic beside me is Staff Sergeant Cruz. Welcome to Second Platoon. In a few short moments you will be led to the deck above us to meet your assigned squads. I see no reason to lie to any of you, so you must know that each of you are replacements for Marines we lost in the glorious field of battle. You will be filling the voids left by them in this platoon."

He paused for a moment to examine the replacements. He gauged their reactions based on what he had just told them, then smiled softly and continued. "I have taken the liberty of reading through all of your files, and I probably know some of you better than you know yourselves. Please know that the Staff Sergeant and I run a tight ship. We expect nothing less of any of you but the absolute best you can offer. We expect you to follow all orders handed down to you as if they were the word given to you by whatever deity you choose to follow. If you do not have one, the Staff Sergeant and I will be excellent substitutes."

He chuckled at the last line, as it was obviously intended as a joke. Even so, the message was there. Follow your orders or suffer the consequences of disobedience. Personally, he doubted any of them would do it, but it was a formality he went through with every instance that the platoon received new people.

"For those of you that have experienced your trial by fire, I expect you to act as leaders to those around you that have not. For you new people, it is best if you realize now this is not Boot Camp, nor is it SOI. You have just entered the real Marine Corps, and the stakes are high. At any moment, we could be called off to fight the Covenant on a colony you may not have ever heard of. They are relentless and unforgiving. Likewise, you must be resolute. A solid object in which they cannot push nor pull. Show them no mercy or quarter, and remember your training."

Durant briefly paused to see if the Staff Sergeant had any input. After a few moments, he carried on. "Now, with that said, our Company CO is Captain Flannigan, and our Battalion XO and CO are Major Killinger and Lieutenant Colonel Harrison, respectively. Reveille is at 0500, morning PT at 0530, and morning chow at 0700. Afterwards you will spend time with your squads training, or the platoon as a whole may train. At 1100 is afternoon chow, and then further training or other activities may occur. Everyone is technically off duty at 1700, and evening chow starts at 1900 and ends at 2200 hours sharp. Lights out at 2300."

"On weekends, most of you will not have to worry as you'll be off duty. Those that will be on duty will know on Wednesdays when I post the week's duty roster. During weekend duty you will report to a Duty NCO and an officer in charge. Duties can range from assisting with simulator operation, working in the armory, KP, and a great many other things. Now, are there any questions before we head up to meet your squads?"

Durant clasped his hands behind his back and eyed everyone in front of him, waiting to answer any questions his new subordinates might have for him or Cruz.

[Ward, J.]

No sooner had the question left his lips did the pilot announce over the Pelican's intercom that they would be arriving in seven minutes. Seven minutes that Private Ward spent in anxious anticipation. He struggled to keep a hold over his excitement. There were a number of Marines aboard the bird whom appeared to be seasoned vets; the last thing he wanted was for them to think he was some jittery, young private.

So, in order to keep himself somewhat preoccupied, he continued to silently observe the happenings around him. He took special interest in the Corporal in the woodlands and the PFC he was not-so-subtly flirting with. That notion perplexed Ward to great extent.

In Boot Camp, his DIs had taken a great deal of time to ensure the recruits were familiar with military regulations and law. One of the first things he learned was that fraternization was a definite no-go. There were certain circumstances where such things would not be considered fraternizing, but this clearly did not fall into that particular gray area.

The fact of the matter was this Corporal had no idea who in the aft compartment could be a future subordinate of his. That alone should have been reason enough not to attempt getting too friendly with the people seated around him. Jon knew the NCO Creed, partly thanks to his time before enlisting where learning about the Marine Corps beforehand had been his primary focus. No where in the Creed did it mention getting friendly with your subordinates.

But what did he know? He was a new guy to all this. Maybe things were far more lax in the Fleet than he had originally believed. Perhaps no one actually cared to adhere to that particular regulation. Should he care?

The answer was definitely an emphatic "yes."

Jon felt the tug in his stomach from the sudden deceleration of the Pelican. They must have just arrived at the ship. Why else would they be slowing down? The rear hatch opened, revealing the massive hangar bay that the Pelican had flown into. It lingered in midair for a moment before setting down upon the deck.

The drop-ship's Crew Chief exited the cockpit. He looked around for a moment and then said, "Grab your gear and exit the bird. Leave your footlockers. They'll be taken to your quarters in a little while."

Ward stood up after unbuckling from his seat and grabbed his seabag from the overhead cargo netting. He turned and waited for the other Marines to funnel out of the bird before following them out. His eyes almost immediately fell on the pair of Marines standing just a few meters away, apparently having been waiting on them. He tensed up almost instinctively at the sight of the gold bars on the one man's collar.

It was an officer. Second Lieutenant.

The Staff Sergeant that stood by his side barked at them to fall in. Ward did so with practiced ease, assuming the position of attention and dropping his seabag beside him as he fell in line. The other men and women that he had rode in with fell in around him, clearly visible in his peripheral vision.

The Lieutenant began to speak once everyone had fallen into formation. He introduced himself as Second Lieutenant Durant, and the Staff Sergeant beside him was Cruz. He spoke with the authority he had witnessed to be trademark of most of the lieutenants he had met or come into contact with. Which, to be honest, hadn't been that many. In the back of Ward's mind, he wondered how long the butter bar had been with the platoon. He mentioned that the platoon had seen combat recently, and that everyone present were replacements for the platoon's KIAs.

That caused Ward to gulp. The Pelican had been filled to capacity. If all of them were replacements for recently received KIAs, then that meant a lot of people had died. A lot of people.

Lieutenant Durant continued to speak, outlining his expectations of everyone present. Some parts of his speech seemed inspiring; but, other parts made him worry about his own life expectancy.

Ward narrowed his eyes and arched his brow when the Lieutenant mentioned religion. Something about his beliefs seemed a bit skewed to him. Jon had grown up a Christian. He'd been raised to believe in God and in the Bible. Some of what the officer said didn't quite jive with him, for a number of reasons. However, he wasn't about to question it. At least not out loud.

He knew his place in the totem pole.

The Lieutenant concluded his speech by asking if anyone had any questions. Slowly, and somewhat hesitantly, Jon raised his hand. "Uh, sir," he began, trying to organize his thoughts, "When are we going to be issued our weapons?"

[Deleted]

When the pelican touched down the marines were told to fall-in. A Second Lieutenant seemed to study the group. Making Dirk feel relieved that the guy hitting on the woman really seemed to stand out. Baldwin did his to hide any fears: being someone's replacement and having a new squad depend on him. The officer pointed out who was in charge.

Second Lieutenant added that his word should be considered akin to that of a god. The last line shook Dirk, he wasn't expecting anything like that. Baldwin pondered the thought is this man delusional, he had no problems following any orders that may have come his way, but for a man to think of himself a god. Or maybe... his thought continued,  he is a god in mortal form. I'll need to wait and see, but if that were the case he would've won this war himself. Maybe he feeds off of wars. The Lance Corporal should have been writing fiction.

The seriousness of his new station was clear. Dirk had to remind himself that even though he always thought all life was sacred that this war claimed Corinth the first place he felt at home since the draft. The Covenant claimed his friends (and nearly himself, though that still hasn't crossed his mind). I nee... We need to stop them, before anymore lives are tossed away. This was an opportunity for Baldwin to redeem himself, to his fallen comrades at Corinth, to his gods, and to himself.

When Second Lieutenant Durant finished with the standard plan for each day, Dirk thought 0500, can't hurt to get up a hour earlier. Ready and anxious to meet his squad Baldwin hoped there wasn't going to be many questions, though he didn't want someone to remain under-informed. Then a young kid spoke up and asked, when do we get to pillage the armory? Dirk had a strange ping in the back of his mind that this guy was trigger happy. That doesn't matter... Baldwin thought, it may turn out for the better if he is trigger happy, I just need to stick to not drawing attention to myself, for now.

[Stringer, K.]

Stringer was waiting for Gray to say something, when he felt the sudden change in gravity. He knew that the pelican was about to land, as he decided to go ahead and stand up. He knew with this many people, it would be better to get out the door quickly since he was right next to it. He went ahead and grabbed his bag, leaving his footlocker to be collected. He knew the drill. New ship, new officers in charge, basically the same way of doing things. It was why he preferred being based on ground and soil.

When the back hatch finally opened, Stringer was about to walk out the door when the pilots went out first. Stringer followed close behind, his bag on his shoulder by the sling. He heard someone yell out for everyone to fall in, looking over to see two people standing next to each other, one standing a bit closer to the ground coming out of the pelican. Stringer knew it was probably the battalion commanding officer and executive officer.

"Hey Louise, stick close. Its the same ol' drill of welcoming the troops and explaining their ways on this ship. Same old stuff, different day for me really." Stringer tilted his head then straightened it quickly to motion her to follow him. He moved over start the line for the troops to fall in behind. He knew it would more than likely take two or three lines for everyone to fall in, so he wanted to be at the front, so he could listen. When everyone falled in, the first man seemed to step back and it became clear who was in charge. Second Lieutenant Durant and Staff Sergeant Cruz. So, it was clear who was in charge now, and Durant made it clear to them all that they were replacing dead marines. Stringer knew this was more than likely the case when he received the transfer, but now even the newbloods knew this. The marines before them died, and now they know its just as easy that they could be replaced, for the same reason.

The Second Lieutenant also mentioned something about valhalla, which Stringer knew from history to have something to do with viking gods or something of the sort. Stringer found that a bit odd, but interesting that the man believed in such a thing, since most people were Christians.

"For those of you that have experienced your trial by fire, I expect you to act as leaders to those around you that have not. For you new people, it is best if you realize now this is not Boot Camp, nor is it SOI. You have just entered the real Marine Corps, and the stakes are high. At any moment, we could be called off to fight the Covenant on a colony you may not have ever heard of. They are relentless and unforgiving. Likewise, you must be resolute. A solid object in which they cannot push nor pull. Show them no mercy or quarter, and remember your training."

Stringer grinned, knowing that when the shit would hit the fan, he would get the chance to give those alien sons of bitches the hate he had pent up in the form of lead, at high velocity. He gave a silent "Oo-rah" aloud, knowing a few of his fellow marines might hear it, but not caring.

The Lieutenant then told them the times they would be doing each item for each day. Knowing that they had five hours at the end of each day for whatever they want to do was nice, even though Stringer didn't like having to follow such strict schedules. That is why he prefered to be on the ground. Everyone had an assignment, and you were either on guard duty or you were doing whatever. Five hours of being able to do whatever without having to worry about being shot out however was nice.

When the Lieutenant asked if anyone had any questions, the first one was from a newblood. Stringer heard the man ask when they would be assigned their weapons. He could tell this newblood was eager to fight. He looked over at the man, reading his tag. The man's last name was "Ward." Stringer could only hope this eagerness wouldn't cause problems for him or anyone else.

"Sir, in relation to the previous question, are side-arms allowed to be carried on this ship at all times? I ask because, as it is known, the Covenant can easily attack our ships, and I personally don't want to be caught without some form of slinging hot lead at these alien sons-of-bitches, even if it is slightly under-powered compared to a battle rifle."

[McMillan, J.]

Mac felt the ship enter the grav well. He opened his eyes stretched his neck and shoulders, he then stood up and collected his things and moved aft. The Pelican became a flurry of motion when it touched down, He heard the familiar cry "Fall in!" He followed the press of people and fell in.

He listened intently to the LT. He didn't need god or them as its substitutes. He was not surprised that they were replacements for fallen Marines, the TO&E dictates that every unit from a fire team up to a division have a certain number of people and equipment. He let the rest of the hyperbole wash over him. When it came time for questions he had only one "Who am I to report to, Lieutenant?" 

After the  formation had been released he sought out Stringer. "Corporal, could I speak with you in private?" He led Stringer to a quiet section of the ship. "I brought you here out of respect. You are an NCO as such you need carry your self like one. Fraternization is strictly forbidden in the UCMJ and can result in Non judicial punishment or worse. Rectify this or I will be forced to take it higher." Against his better judgement he decided to wait and see how Stringer would react.

[Gray, L.]

Gray listened intently as Stringer spoke again, this time relating events that had him to be here. As Louise listened to she story she felt bile rise in her throat when he spoke of having lost both of his parents, his father to those dammed Convent and his mother to suicide. It must of been awful for him and she was thankful that her own parents were still alive for now at least. She looked up at him when he began to describe his own combat experience. Like her, he had been through similar circumstances in regards to being injured and coming from a unit who had lost too many marines to be an active unit any more. Also though he may be have been flirting with her, but honestly, Louise was grateful for the distraction from the memories that were taunting her right now.

"Thanks, It's good to know that at least one person in this platoon will have my back in combat if ever we are fighting near each other. I will have your back too Corporal, if that ever happens." Louise said softly giving him the briefest of smiles before yet again returning her gaze to the floor. Suddenly she felt the pelican begin to decrease it's speed, which could only mean one thing. They were arriving at their destination and were about to meet their new superiors.

Turning to her friend next to her, Louise looked into her face and could see that her friend was scared. She reached for her hand and grasping it lightly. "Hey it's okay. I feel the same way as you." she muttered quietly. Her friend nodded as the pelican came to a halt and the gangway dropped with a thud, showing that they had entered a hanger area of a spaceship. Louise nodded back to her friend and the Corporal when he told her to stick close to him as they stood up ready to exit the pelican.

Gray followed the Corporal out into the hanger area where two men stood. She fell in beside Corporal Stringer and another marine who was a Lance Corporal from the pin on his collar, before turning her attention to the two men stood before them. Gray listened intently as the first man began to speak, introducing himself as Second Lieutenant Durant and the man next to him as Staff Sergeant Cruz. "So these are my new superiors." she thought to herself, still listening intently to the Lieutenant speaking.

Louise had seen the Lieutenant glance at her cheek when she had fallen in and was a little uncomfortable, that should he ever speak to her, that he would press her on how she got it. Continuing to listen, she was unsurprised to learn that they were replacements for dead marines and when he spoke of those who had already seen combat to act like leaders to those who had not, she smiled inwardly, if she could help prevent a total newbie from getting themselves killed, then she was all for it. She steeled herself slightly and gazed impassively at both men, waiting to see where she would be assigned to within the platoon.