[C-Deck] Induction Day

[Durant, M.]

Movement out of the corner of his vision as he further inspected the group in front of him caught his eye, and he looked to behold Private Ward standing there with his hand fully extended in the air. Michael resisted the urge to chuckle at the gesture, and listened intently as the greenhorn spoke. Ward inquired about when he and the others would be assigned their weapons, the Marine's eagerness to wield a rifle apparent in his voice.

Durant appreciated his zeal, despite the fact that some might have seen it as a bad trait to have. "As soon as we're finished here, I will be taking you into the armory, which --" the Lieutenant pointed at a door several meters away at the opposite side of the hangar, "is right over there."

The southern drawl of Corporal Stringer caused the Lieutenant's eyes to fix upon him. The veteran NCO inquired about carrying a sidearm aboard the ship in case of Covenant boarding actions. Perhaps that mindset was a bit pessimistic, but he admired the man's interest in being ever vigilant. "Technically, Corporal, it's against regs to wield any kind of weapon outside of the armory unless for combat or training purposes," he said, then glanced at Staff Sergeant Cruz, "However, the Staff Sergeant here carries his sidearm with him everywhere thanks to having special permission from Admiral MacArthur, the ship's CO. You and the Staff Sergeant can discuss getting authorized to carry your own sidearm later."

He smiled at the Corporal and then shifted his eyes to the platoon's new corpsman, Doc McMillan. "You report to both myself and Staff Sergeant Cruz, Doc. Technically you're a part of the BAS, and should probably report in with the Battalion Surgeon sometime soon, but in the day-to-day we're your direct superiors."

Michael waited for a couple moments to see if anyone else had any further questions. No one spoke. With a nod, he quickly snapped to attention and bellowed, "Platoon! Fall out!"

With that, he said, "Follow me to the armory, if you will, and we'll get the weapons issue sorted out." Durant turned ion his heel and made for the door to the armory. He did notice McMillan take Corporal Stringer aside for a moment, but didn't pay much mind to it. The tewo of them would be able to catch up fairly quickly, so he wasn't concerned about it.

The door to the armory opened upon his approach, and he stepped inside. Staff Sergeant Cruz followed close behind him, along with the new arrivals. The first thing Durant spotted was First Lieutenant Matheson in mid-conversation with the Top he'd dealt with a couple weeks ago when his platoon had deployed to the Templar.

"Sir," Durant called, attracting the man's attention. "Pardon the interruption, but what're you doing here?"

"I'm here by order of the Captain," Matheson replied. "He wanted to make sure that your replacements received their equipment in a timely and orderly fashion."

Michael nodded slightly. "Ah," he said. "Well, here they are." Michael turned around to face his Marines. "I want everyone to form three columns in front if the XO and Master Sergeant over there. You will be given the serial numbers to your assigned weapons and a chance to see them to make sure the numbers match up. Whenever you are to train, or we are to deploy, you will come down here to check out your weapon. So memorize your weapon's serial number."

[Stringer, K.]

"Technically, Corporal, it's against regs to wield any kind of weapon outside of the armory unless for combat or training purposes. However, the Staff Sergeant here carries his sidearm with him everywhere thanks to having special permission from Admiral MacArthur, the ship's CO. You and the Staff Sergeant can discuss getting authorized to carry your own sidearm later." Stringer nodded, understanding that he would need to get permission from higher-ups to do so here on this ship. He was too used to being able to carry his side-arm around. Hell, he got permission to carry a M7 SMG around before being transferred.

When Durant finally called out for everyone to fall out and follow him, Stringer was about to move when someone got his attention. A corpsman named "McMillan" asked him if he could speak to him alone for a second. Stringer could only raise an eyebrow and wonder what a medic could want with him, let alone one he didn't know. He decided, against his better wishes, to nod and follow the medic.

"What's going on doc?"

"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." Stringer couldn't believe this. A medic, who was essentially the same rank as him, was threatening to go to the officers of this ship, over him "flirting" with a member of the opposite sex. Stringer knew the Uniformed Code of Military Justice, and he was about to let the doc know that if he wanted to be a hard-ass, Stringer can be even harder.

"First off, corpsman McMillan, that isn't your call. PFC Gray is the one who would have to report that "chat" me and her had as "flirting", if she so felt offended. YOU can only report something such if you catch me groping, sexually assaulting, or pushing myself on her. ESPECIALLY since you are practically the same rank as me.

"Second, the Uniformed Code of Military Justice ONLY states that "Fraternization" is against the regulations, should it be either a superior or subordinate. With another marine, its not.

"Third, and final thing doc, you either get off my back quick, or you won't have a fellow marine watching your back out their, when the shit hits the fan. I can tell you are a by-the-book type of guy, and let me tell you where that book gets you. Its either out an air lock in a casket, six feet into the dirt, or into a pile of ash should the Covenant bring that much fire down upon you. Now, if you want me watching your back, you best get off my bad side by not trying to be a little bitch, and not threatening to tattle telling on me for talking with a woman. Got it?" Stringer didn't even wait for a response, instead moving quickly to catch up with the others. The corpsman little threat pissed him off, considering that the man didn't know him, and apparently didn't know the UCMJ good enough to even give a threat.

When he did catch up, he found out they would all be issued weapons based on serial numbers. They were told to form three lines. Stringer saw Gray get into a line, deciding to get behind her and share his little experience.

"Hey Louise, you aren't going to believe what the fuck just happened."

[McMillan, J.]

MacMillian grimaced inwardly. He had hoped that Stringer would act professionally.

"I have no choice," he muttered. He made a double time to the armory and fell into the column furthest from Stringer.

"Why couldn't he just understand that I was trying to keep him out of trouble? Better that I say something, than the LT. Why am I the only one that cares about the regulations?" He thought forlornly.

"We have rules for a reason. Why is it so difficult for some people to follow them? Why do they blame me when it was their own actions that get then in trouble? It's always the same." He raged silently.

By the time he finished mulling over his thoughts it was time to receive his rifle's serial number. The Armorer shoved the rifle into Mac's sternum and rattled off a serial. Mac inspected the weapon, certified the numbers matched then filled out the weapons card, scanned his right thumb, retired the weapon to its rack and filed to the back of his column. He stood utterly stationary at the position of attention, waiting to be shown to his birth.

"I need to find out who Stringer's squad leader will be," he thought solemnly.

[Ward, J.]

Private Ward listened to the Lieutenant as he gave an answer to his query. He almost smiled at the man's answer. He felt the excitement well up in him at the knowledge that in just a few minutes he would finally be issued his own weapon. It'd be the first time he'd held a weapon in weeks, and it would be the weapon he'd be going into combat with.

Combat. The thought of it brought with it mixed feelings. On one hand he was antsy, having signed up for the infantry because he had wanted to fight. He wanted to be the guy on the front lines, winning humanity's battles. However, on the other hand, he was also sort of intimidated by the notion of it. He'd seen the results of war when his father had come home one day with prosthetics. He'd lost his legs in a battle with the Covenant.

No matter how badly Ward wanted to fight, he didn't want to end up like that. He couldn't imagine coming home to his fiancé and telling her he'd lost his legs in the war. Her reaction was something he couldn't predict, but he knew it wouldn't be pleasant.

Just before he'd left Reach for Sigma Octanus, she had expressed how worried she was about his safety. She loved him and was immensely afraid of losing him. To quell her concerns, Jon had told her that he would keep his head down and that she needn't worry too much. There'd be a whole platoon of Marines around him watching his back.

That seemed to have done the trick, for the most part. After that, they hadn't really discussed it further. Instead, they'd simply enjoyed what little time that they had had left together before he shipped out. And enjoy that time he did.

The Lieutenant ordered the newbies to fall out, snapping Ward back to reality. He took a step back and about-faced, then turned around and followed the officer as he led them into the armory. Jon listened closely to his instructions, and then fell in line. When it was his turn to see the Armorer, he approached the Master Sergeant and snapped to parade rest.

"At ease, Private," the Top said to him.

"Aye, Master Sergeant," Jon replied, and relaxed some.

The Top handed him a rifle and spouted off a serial number. Jon glanced at the numbers on his weapon and then nodded to the senior NCO to let him know they matched. He handed the man back the MA5B and then filled out a form on a datapad he had been handed by the Company XO. Once the form was finished, he handed the device over to the XO and then fell to the back of his line. Now all that's left is to meet my squad, Ward mused, eager to head topside and meet the people he'd be serving with for the duration of this deployment.

[Silva, J.]

A marine, that was what she was now, finally after all that training. It had been one thing to graduate as a marine, but another to actually be assigned as one. Until now Silva, had remained quiet, listening to the chatter of comrades and the instructions given by everyone who seemed to outrank her. After receiving her rifle she double checked the digits to check that they matched. Once certain that they did, she filled out the form, reluctantly parting with the assault rifle. 

She moved to the back of the line and took out a worn, dog eared picture from her right chest pocket. She smiled at the photo, she missed the people in it. Her family, she was fighting for them. 

She folded it back up carefully and returned it too it's pocket before taking out another picture, this one she looked at more cautiously as if concerned that her fellow marines would be interested in it. Of course they would, though Janet was naturally friendly there where just a few things you didn't show straight away to everyone.

Janet had some combat experience however it had been against fellow humans in the form of Innies rather than the Covenant. Sure she had seen the pictures and videos but never actually seen one live face to face. 

Janet had enjoyed what little time she had on leave before she was shipped off by the UNSC, who knew when she would see her home world again? As best as she could Janet tried to remain in communication with her family as well as that special person.

She elected against talking to the rest of the marines on board the Pelican with her, instead before they had unloaded she busied herself by re-reading letters that her family sent. There was something good about reading them still, despite many of them being several weeks out of date. 

Yeah even when she served as a Militia trooper, Janet managed to try and keep a few of the letters on her so that she could read them any chance that she got. 

She felt home sick, she missed her home, her friends, her family... The smell of fresh bake baguettes, the sweet smell of molten chocolate, the crisp, salty aroma of bacon being fried. Janet sighed, the sudden realisation that she was away from home hit her suddenly, almost like a punch to the gut. Sure Janet had moved away from home previously yet at the very least she remained on the same planet.

Now the private found herself in space, millions of miles from home and in a whole new environment to the world she knew previously. Taking a deep breath she closed her eyes for a second before folding the picture once more. How she missed home. 

[Deleted]

As they fell out to head to the armory Dirk positioned himself near the rear of the group. I can be patient, and I don't mind being back here. I can keep an eye on everyone and maybe learn a bit about my new family. he was one of the last to reach the armorer and receive his numbers.

Once at the armory Baldwin received his weapons serial number, he checked if the numbers matched. Then to insure it was working properly Dirk inspected it thoroughly. While inspecting it was the first time on board he didn't care if he made a bad impression, or if anyone noticed him. A good weapon is a tool and a necessity that he felt took the highest priority.

Since the serial matched and it all seemed to check-out well enough, he confirmed that all seemed in order. Baldwin proceeded to stow his assigned weapon away. Once done he produced a pen and a pad from his pockets and wrote his numbers down so he'd be sure to remember them. Better safe than sorry. 

Once done he returned to his spot in the back of the group. Waiting to met his new squad Dirk was beginning to pray slightly and quietly. Please may I be of use and die an honorable death before my new comrades. He didn't think he could possibly go through the guilt of out living his team again.

[Gray, L.]

Gray continued to listen, to her superiors speak. When they were told to fall out, she did so, quickly following the lieutenant and the rest of the marines down to the Armoury. As she fell out though, she noticed the new corpsman, McMillian, pull Stringer to one side.

She frowned as she glanced at the pair, before walking away. She had noticed that McMillian had been glancing at them conversing with each other on the pelican. She had her supsicions that it was about them 'chatting' on the pelican. Gray gave a small sigh, well if push came to shove and she had to defend herself and the corporal, then she would. After all he had simply been making causal conversation with her, he hadn't made any advances towards her and Gray felt better after talking to him as it had distracted her from memories that were still quite raw for her.

Once they were at the Armoury, Gray got into line and waited to be issued her weapon. Suddenly she heard a voice in her ear and looking round briefly, realised that Stringer had caught up and was now lined up behind her. She also spotted McMillian lining up in the farthest line. "Hmm, I spotted the doc pulling you to one side earlier. I also noticed that he was glancing at us on the ride in. I'm guessing he talking to you about us chatting, am I right?" Gray said quietly so only, Stringer could hear her.

At that point it was her turn to get her weapon. She stepped forward and looked at the number on the weapon, given to her. She nodded to the Top when he said it to let him know that it matched. She memorised the number and after filling in the form, returned to her place in the line to await Stringer's response.

[Stringer, K.]

"Hmm, I spotted the doc pulling you to one side earlier. I also noticed that he was glancing at us on the ride in. I'm guessing he talking to you about us chatting, am I right?" Stringer nodded, sighing a bit. Gray was next to step up and receive her rifle. When she did, Stringer stood there at the front of the line now. He knew that the corpsman was going to be a problem if he kept up such threats. If Stringer and Gray were to do anything, they would have to both defend each other against such a thing. The corpsman didn't have any grounds to report them though. A friendly chat on the ride in is always common. However, Stringer would have to watch McMillan in the future. He might even have to take it further up to have him reprimanded should he cause a constant problem.

When Gray stepped away, Stringer stepped up to the top. He handed Stringer a BR55 battle rifle. It was a standard one, not the heavy barrel variant Stringer was field stepping before. Stringer sighed once more as he listen to the serial numbers being said to him for his weapon, following along to make sure they checked out. When the top finished, Stringer looked up at him.

"Yeah, they're right. Only problem is, I hate these regular versions Top."

"What, you know of another?"

"Actually, I do. Its suppose to be hush hush, but fuck it. You might want to know. They're working on a heavy barrel variant. Goes into full auto too."

"Well we only get the standard gear, so just make do marine."

"Marines always make do Top." Stringer grinned and nodded, filling out the card he was issued for his weapon, then stepping away and over to Gray. He noticed a bit of worry with her expression, and laughed a bit as he began to smile.

"Hey, I see that look. Relax. Its not like the man caught us fucking or something. Should he go to higher about our chat, we just tell them like it is. We were on the ride in, and getting to know each other. Its that simple. So, relax. I've dealt with idiots like him before." Stringer patted Gray on the back one time and continued to smile, as he stood there in the line now, waiting for everyone else to finish getting their weapons.

[Durant, M.]

The new arrivals finished after a few minutes. The last Marine turned in their weapon and returned to the back of the line. The Lieutenant nodded to himself and stepped in front of the three lines; then cleared his throat to speak, attracting the Marines' attention. He stood there for a moment to gather his throats before opening his mouth to speak.

"Now that you're all squared away, it's time we head topside," Durant said, his eyes moving from person to person. "I've already assigned each of you to a squad and your squad leader's will assign you individual billets. Your belongings should have already been brought up to the berths."

Michael turned his head and looked directly at Corpsman McMillan. "Since you're assigned to the platoon HQ, Doc, I'm billeting you to a berth with our RTO. You'll be sharing it with Private Wilkas."

He turned and headed for the exit to the armory. "Fall out and follow me." He reached the door, Staff Sergeant Cruz catching up ti his side. The door opened at his presence and he stepped into the busy corridor beyond its threshold. The new arrivals followed closely behind them.

They led them to the elevator lift up to B-Deck, a few corridors down from the armory. He pressed the call button and waited for the lift. It chimed and the doors parted as it arrived. Durant ushered them inside and pressed the button for the next deck up.