[B-Deck] Organized Chaos

[Ward, J.]

The dream that had played like a movie before his eyes faded away, replaced by the cramped, frosty interior of a UNSC cryogenic stasis unit as he opened his eyes. His first breath of air in a month came as a gasp, his lungs reaching out for oxygen. Ward felt discombobulated and confused.

The dream he had been having moments ago had been so real -- so lifelike -- that he could not tell whether he was awake or still dreaming. If this was some delusion of his, than it most certainly fell under the category of a nightmare. A fine mist sprayed and clouded the interior of the pod just seconds before the door opened. Jon shook as a terrible chill ran down his spine, and he decided that the outside world -- dream or not -- was a far better place to be than the coffin he was in now.

His first step in over a month ended with him sprawled out on the floor. The world spun around him, and he felt sick to his stomach. His nose drained like a hydrant, lime green mucus pooling onto the once spotless grey deck beneath him. He breathed in through his nose, trying to suck the gunk back in, and suddenly tasted it upon his tongue.

And that was the catalyst that his body needed to begin purging itself of everything he had consumed both during and before his time in suspended animation. The spaghetti dinner he had consumed the night he had stepped into the freezer had resurfaced, and was now on the floor.

Just the sight of it caused him to regurgitated again. He puked several more times until there was nothing left in his stomach to purge. Despite that, he still heaved and hoed as if he were going to vomit some more.

Suddenly, he sensed someone standing over him, and felt a hand pat him on the back. "Come on," rang the voice in his ear. It sounded familiar to him. "Breathe, Jonny. Just breathe."

That sounded like good advice, so that's what he did. He inhaled through his nose and exhaled through his mouth. Ward did that several more times until he started to feel better. Slowly, with deliberate care so as to not fall in his own muck, he pushed himself off the floor with his arms. His bones cracked and popped, still stiff from being frozen and inert for so long, but he managed to get on his feet.

"Do we need to get you a stretcher?" the voice, that he now recognized as belonging to PFC Jayson Furby, asked. Despite his semi-delirious state, he managed to pick up on the lighthearted tone in his friend's voice.

Jon shook his head. "No. I'm fine."

Furby nodded and then pointed to the lockers at the end of the room. "Then hurry up and get dressed. Something big is going on."

Those words alone were sufficient to fully bring him back to reality. He looked around and saw everyone in varying stages of being dressed, and realized that something was definitely going on. Ward stepped forward and carefully, but hastily, found his locker and opened it wide. He started putting on his cammies as fast as he could manage.

It took him a little under a minute before he was fully dressed and ready. He slammed the locker door shut and proceeded to fall in beside Corporal Davis. Jon may not have known what was going on, but he was definitely eager to find out.

[Durant, M.]

Durant waited and watched as his platoon thawed, removed themselves from their pods, and proceeded with the unpleasantness inherent with waking from the freezers. Despite the near crippling disorientation and sickening nausea that caused each of them to involuntarily spew theirs guts out onto the floor, the speed in which they recovered and went about making themselves decent was impressive, and mildly surprising. His squad leaders, and their team leaders, immediately took charge and ushered their Marines to make haste in getting dressed; something which Durant was wholly appreciative of.

He picked up on the sense that they knew something was up. The look was most certainly in their eyes and faces in varying degrees of readability, and Durant knew there were likely dozens of questions running through each of their minds. Corporal Stringer, one of the new replacements and one of Staff Sergeant Mason's team leaders, vocalized some of the questions that some of the others undoubtedly shared. Mike planned to briefly answer some of their questions in a moment, and possibly assuage some of their fears while spurning a whole new set of worries amongst his Marines.

When it appeared as if everyone had finished dressing, the Lieutenant waved them over. "Fall in," he barked a little more forcefully than he had meant to. He didn't apologize for it, however. They were pressed for time, and thus urgency needed to be displayed in their actions. Durant wasn't expecting a nice, orderly formation in front of him. On the contrary, he wouldn't have minded if they merely huddled around him, so long as he had their full and undivided attention.

"The Covenant beat us here," he said bluntly once everyone was in front of him. "And we are currently en route to the planet. Our original mission has been scrubbed. The Army have taken quite a beating, but they're holding the line at the river. We're going to head groundside, relieve them at the bridges, and show the Covenant that we will not stand for what they've done. We will hold those bridges at all costs until the Army recouped and then drive the bastards out of the city."

Durant pulled back on his sleeve and checked his watch. "We have approximately twenty-seven minutes left until we are to deploy. We don't have a lot of time, so I need all of you to move quickly and efficiently. We're going to head to the berths and gear up in cold weather armor and equipment, as the temps groundside are usually extremely frigid. Staff Sergeant Cruz will be taking a detail down to the armory to meet up with the XO to begin loading crew-served weapon ammo onto our birds. Let's go!"

Durant turned on his heel right then and broke for the door at a jogging pace. There was no time to dither about. They needed to hurry over to the berths, get their gear on, and head for the armory to get their weapons and combat loads while the detail Cruz would lead stocked the Pelicans full of crew served weapon ammunition and then got their own weapons and loads.

((OOC: Apologies for the wait! You may post!))

[Flannigan, S.]

Flannigan trotted down the corridors, getting himself to Charlie Deck. He could only imagine the chaos of having the entire company thawed at once and while he would have loved to see his boys out of the freezers, this had to happen first. Flight control was going to be chaos as well with air support, three companies, and all the support to get planet side. It wasn't the end of the world, but he was quite sure that who ever was in charge of flight command today wasn't going to be happy to see a marine walk in. Hopefully they would still be professional.

Finding his way along Charlie Deck, Flannigan was soon at Naval Flight Command. He moved towards the portal, only to step aside as three seamen came out at full tilt. On a normal day he would have laid into the for nearly running him down, or at the very least holding his ground. Not today, there wasn't time. He moved aside with a quick step and let the three enlisted men run as they needed to do. He made a quick check around the corner before boldly walking into the bowels of of NFC. A smile came to the corners of his lips at the sight he beheld.

Maps of the planet were tacked to the walls with overlays showing aerial avenues of approach, ground positions, and potential locations for covenant high value targets. There were about twelves too many men packed into the small places writing up flight plans and planning load outs for the craft. This may not have been the heart of the planning, but this was a piece that Flannigan found himself glad was being taken care of well. He didn't understand all of the symbols and half the words being spoken in flight speak, but he knew they were in good hands.

"What can I do for you Major," came a voice that pulled him back to his task.

"I came down for hanger assignments Captain," Flannigan said, turning to the Naval Captain. He had almost corrected the man before he realized what was going on. It was an oddity due to Naval rank being all screwed up, but they were both Captains, even though the navy Captain was three ranks his superior. To keep there from being any issues of being the same, Marine Captains were momentarily promoted for the coversation.

"What company," the Captain asked quickly.

"Oscar," Flannigan said. "Should be nine birds assigned to us, three permanently."

"Aye Major," the Captain said, quickly hammering out some things on his Datapad. "Your boys are in hanger bay Charlie Fife Niner. Tail numbers tree-four-fife, tree-four-six, tree-four-seven, fife-one-niner, fife-two-zero, fife-two-one, six-six-four, six-six-five, and six-six-six."

"Six-six-six," Flannigan asked with a turn of his head and a small chuckle..

"She's your permanent one. For whatever reason, that series keeps coming back in one piece from these types of runs Major. It's been the dedicated QRF flight for a year now."

"Good copy," Flannigan said. "My boys are scrambling, but they'll be at Charlie Fife Niner as soon as we're geared up. Any briefings?"

"No time this go round Major. Just strap 'em in and hang on."

"Roger sir," Flannigan said. "I know the way out."

Flannigan quickly got out of the crowded room and started back towards his room to gear up, accessing the chatter through his neural link. He hoped everyone would be at the hanger before he got there, but there was no guarantee. The chaos was starting the spread through the ship as he ran into groups of marines racing to their berths. He added all three platoon leaders, Matheson, and Zieed to the message. 

"Oscar to report to hanger Chalie Fife Niner. First Platoon tails numbers: tree-four-fife, tree-four-six, tree-four-seven. Second Platoon: fife-one-niner, fife-two-zero, fife-two-one. Third Platoon: six-six-four, six-six-fife, six-six-six. Zieed rides with third, Matheson with second, myself with first. Remember to spread out leadership."

[Stringer, K.]

"Corporal Stringer, if we were under attack, you’d know the moment you awoke. As far as the rest - we’ll find out soon enough. Also, this is Oscar Company, if you’re going to fit in as an NCO here, at least wait until you’re bleeding out before losing your cool.”

"I just hate not knowing what is going on, Staff Sergeant. Not losing my cool, just angry at this chaos and not knowing what the fuck is going on." Stringer stood there, looking at Staff Sergeant Mason, as his fireteam began to fall in behind him. About that time, he heard Lieutenant Durant bark for everyone to fall in. Stringer looked back at his fireteam and repeated the order to them, telling them to fall in on the el-tee.

Stringer moved to just to the right of the Lieutenant and motioned for his fireteam to stand next to him. As they all gathered, he looked at the el-tee, waiting to hear what happened. He knew with the quick thaw, that something went terribly wrong, since he didn't hear explosions since they got out of the cryo pods. He knew because of this, they weren't under attack, but this still meant that something happened, but what is the question.

"The Covenant beat us here, and we are currently en route to the planet. Our original mission has been scrubbed. The Army have taken quite a beating, but they're holding the line at the river. We're going to head groundside, relieve them at the bridges, and show the Covenant that we will not stand for what they've done. We will hold those bridges at all costs until the Army recouped and then drive the bastards out of the city." Stringer looked back at his fireteam, knowing they had to be worried what would happen now, as he was too. He knew this meant their original missions had be scrubbed, and what would happen now is that they would most likely be sent straight into battle. Which also meant, they would have no time to get set for an attack, but instead have to repel an already assaulting force of covenant. The question was, how strong of a force. Stringer noticed the el-tee began to speak again, as he once again paid attention to the man.


"We have approximately twenty-seven minutes left until we are to deploy. We don't have a lot of time, so I need all of you to move quickly and efficiently. We're going to head to the berths and gear up in cold weather armor and equipment, as the temps groundside are usually extremely frigid. Staff Sergeant Cruz will be taking a detail down to the armory to meet up with the XO to begin loading crew-served weapon ammo onto our birds. Let's go!" Stringer nodded, as he looked back at his fireteam.

"You heard the man, ladies. Let's move it! Get to the berth!" Stringer began to jog at a fast pace, motioning for his fireteam to follow him. When he saw that they all were, he picked up the pace.

"Come on third, let's move it. Get to the berth, get geared up, and get to the armory! We are going to be hitting the ground fighting more than likely, so be prepared for the worst! Grab winter camo BDUs, since the el-tee said we will be fighting in the cold. That more than likely means snow. We all know what is at stake here, so let's give them hell when we get there!" Stringer didn't say anymore, instead focusing on leading his fireteam to the berth. He was following other marines as well, seeing them in front of him, but unsure of who it was. He lead his squad to the berth, quickly making his way to third fireteam's berth, as he then crouched before his footlocker.

He punched in his security code, and opened it, grabbing out a set of digital winter BDUs, changing into them quickly. Once he got into the clothing, he moved to the locker at the back of the room and opened it, then he grabbed his armor and pulled it out and laid it onto his bunk so he could move out of the way. He began to put on piece after piece until he had his entire armor on. He then stood there, waiting for the rest of his marines. He noticed that Silva was moving faster than she was in the cryo room.

"That's it Silva. Easier to move now that the cryo has wore off, huh? Remember, slow is smooth, smooth is fast, fast is deadly. Focus, and you will stay alive. That goes for you two as well." Stringer looked over at Lawrence and Gray, seeing them glance at him when he was speaking. When they finished getting ready, he motioned them to follow, and moved back out into the main room of second squad's entire berth, looking around to see if any other marines were ready.

(OOC: Going to wait for any other marines to post, including Mason, Gray, and Silva, before having Stringer move to the armory. I will be watching, and waiting eagerly.)

[Mason, I.]

"I just hate not knowing what is going on, Staff Sergeant. Not losing my cool, just angry at this chaos and not knowing what the fuck is going on."

“That’s like saying you weren’t yelling, just screaming,” Rio responded with a chuckle.

Mason rolled his eyes, “I get it, Corporal Stringer. Just keep in mind that your appearance and how you act will greatly affect those beneath you. Such as being an unruly smartass will lead to those beneath you having a greater chance of being unruly smartasses,” Mason added, with a side glance at Rio. Rio looked off in the other direction, pretending not to notice - even though there was sly grin plastered across his face.

For now, Corporal,” Mason said looking back to Stringer, “You’re here because someone felt you deserved the spot and I look forward to seeing what you can do in battle. For the record, I can already see you’re on the right track.”

Mason was going to say more, but he could see Durant about to call their attention out of the corner of his eye.

"We have approximately twenty-seven minutes left until we are to deploy... Let's go!"

“You better well know I love being ten mikes early to hell!” Mason called to his squad, “so your asses better be planted on the birds in seventeen!”

He watched as his squad scurried off to get their equipment, waiting just a moment to make sure there weren’t any stragglers.

Within a few short minutes the majority of second squad was fully armored. “Team leaders,” Mason said as he finished up equipping his armor, “Do your PCI’s now, before heading to the armory - and make it quick.”

Rio was already in the midst of doing his team’s. He had them all lined up and was inspecting them simultaneously. “Water source,” he called. Most of the team members pointed to their hydro packs while a couple had two quart flasks that attached to their armor. It was this way for the majority of the items they possessed - they were all issued the basic combat necessities while at boot camp, but many of them had since upgraded many of those basics to things that were more durable and comfortable. Rio was relieved to see that all of his team member’s were fully prepared, “we’re up, Staff Sergeant,” the Corporal reported.

“Move your team out, Corporal,” Mason said with a nod. As first team made their way towards the armory, Mason turned to watch the progress of his other two teams, “mikes are dying sixty seconds at a time and there aren’t very many left, marines!”

[Stone, T.]

Stone stood back with his arms crossed over his chest supervising over his Marines as they got dressed in their camouflage utilities. It seemed like the grogginess that was inherent with waking from cryo was quickly wearing off, and as a result his Marines were moving a tad faster than when they had emerged from their coffins. When the Lieutenant ordered the platoon to fall in, Stone snapped to and ushered them to form up on the officer. "Thirsty First, fall in on the El-Tee!"

With that, he marched over to where Durant was standing and eased into parade rest. Thomas listened to him as he briefly went over the situation and how dire it was, and then dismissed everyone to haul ass over to the berths so that they could all gear up. Stone barked at his squad to double time it to the berthing area and paved the way for them by taking point.

The jog was relatively short. In no time at all they had arrived at the berth and Stone stormed through the door, heading for his own "room." He pushed the curtain aside and went for his footlocker. After punching in the combination, he popped open the lid and started donning his armor. It didn't take him longer than perhaps a minute to strap it all on and replace his soft cover with a Kevlar, and so then he retrieved his rucksack from the storage closet and went about squaring it away.

He made sure that the bulkiest and least essential items, such as his thermal blanket, were located at the bottom of the pack. The top of his pack would be used for the most essential items such as ammunition and the protein bars that came with every package of MREs. Plus, a pack or two of cigarettes and dip to keep him happy while they were groundside.

Once he was certain the pack was good to go, he fastened it up and snapped it to the back of his shoul shoulder armor. With that out of the way, he turned on his heel and stepped into the common area to do his rounds of his team's berths. He wanted to be totally sure everyone was ready before taking them down to the armory.

"Alrigh', we ain't got all day! Git'cher asses in gear 'n fall in on the common area when yer finished gettin' suited up!" Stone yelled, hoping to motivate his Marines to move a tad faster.

((OOC: This post was killer to write because three of the keys on the touchscreen keyboard refused to work right. Autocorrect saved my ass for once.))

[Davis, E.]

Davis only half listened to the LT. It wasn't that he didn't care, but he had four marines to keep an eye on and two of them were still quite green. The words of the quick explanation were not lost on him though. Even if he hadn't been listening, he could have followed the mass exodus to the berths. He paused in the hall long enough to see that Wilkas made it to her berthing area.

"Don't leave till I get back to check your pack, Private," Davis barked to her over the din of the herd of marines. "This requires packing smart, not just fast."

Catching back up with his team in their room, Davis started stripping immediately, barking out orders as he did.

"Suit up in your winters, lay out your armor, dump your rucks," Davis said, balling up his top and throwing it at his foot locker. He saw Avery start to open his mouth and he cut him off as his trousers hit the floor. "Don't start Avery. I said dump 'em. You more than the other two. This isn't about being green, this is about making room. If we're packing crew served weapons ammo, I assure you your ruck is going to be full. Now just follow fucking orders and move. We're losing time fast."

Despite being the last one there, Davis still had his winter digi's on and armor laid out before the others. His pack was on the floor and he was pulling out things and tossing them into piles that almost seemed random. He then repacked his ruck with one pile and jammed the rest into the open footlocker. He ruck sat at an odd angle, not holding its usual load it was accustomed to. Strapping the armor to his ruck he slid it over to the door before turning back to his team.

"Times up," he barked. "Let's see what you've got. We're packing light and fast. FoxNoGo, do what your told and don't add anything else to this pack. It's not worth it at this point."

[Furby, J.]

Furby marched over to a spot behind some of the other Marines that had formed a tight group in front of the Lieutenant. The officer started his situation brief by letting everyone know that they had arrived late to the party. Jay rolled his eyes and shook his head at that.

The UNSC always seemed to be two steps behind the Covenant. Often they arrived far too late, discovering that the planet they had come to defend had already been glassed and abandoned by the alien bastards. It was truthfully one of the prime reasons why Furby thought humanity was fighting an uphill battle that could not be won. That line of thinking brought him back to the infirmary, when he had escorted Wilkas there and they had discussed the war.

Surprisingly, she had not been receptive to his pessimism. She had referred to it as "defeatist talk," when in his mind it was simply reality. A cold fact of life. But she would have none of it, favoring blind optimism over the truth.

That would change, though. After a few more battles she would come to see the truth as he did; as many Marines did.

The Lieutenant concluded his speech and everyone hastily funneled their way out of the cryo bay. Furby followed the Marines in front of him, chiefly Lance Corporal Avery, all the way back to First Squad's berth. He stepped inside and entered the cramped confines of First Team's compartment, making a beeline for the storage closet belonging to him and Private Ward.

Jay opened the door to the closet and pulled out his winter armor, setting the armor segments down on his rack. Then he pulled open his drawer and retrieved a set of winter digital camouflage utilities. The last thing he'd need, and the last thing he would grab, was his up-armored rucksack. At the moment he was more concerned with stripping out of his current fatigues so that he could don his winter set.

Jay plopped down on his footlocker and began untying his boots. He slipped them off and undid the blousing bands from underneath the bottom of his trousers, and then stripped off his trousers. Tossing them aside, he unbuttoned and removed his blouse and then got dressed again in his new uniform.

After putting his boots back on, blousing them, and tying them up, he set about doing as Corporal Davis had ordered them to do after retrieving his ruck from his footlocker. "Roger, Corporal," he said, turning his pack upside down and dumping its contents onto the floor in front of him.

From there, he organized the belongings he would take with him based on need. He kept the flame-proof survival blanket and stuffed it into the pack, stuffing it to the very bottom as it was one of the bulkiest items he had. Then he grabbed a fresh pair of skivvies, socks, and winter fatigues and stuffed them over top of the blanket. Next washis hygiene kit, a small canteen of water for hydration, and that was pretty much it. That left him with plenty of room for additional ammunition and whatever else he might have needed while planetside.

The PFC looked over at Avery and saw him repacking some of his belongings, but leaving a lot of the things he normally kept in his ruck on the floor. "I get the feelin' I am gonna love and hate this fuckin' op," the Lance Corporal said to no one in particular. Jay chuckled and nodded back at him, before turning his attention on Corporal Davis.

"I'm set, Corporal."

[Ward, J.]

After listening to the Lieutenant's quick brief, Ward experienced a sudden mix of emotions. The feeling at the top of that list happened to be nervous excitement. In just a little while, he would be getting his first taste of real combat. He would be taking the fight to the Covenant alongside the rest of the Marines in the platoon. It was what he joined the Marines for, and why he had selected the infantry as his military occupational field.

"Oorah," he mumbled under his breath. He had been waiting for this opportunity since he graduated from boot camp, and since he joined Oscar Company it came with new meaning. Not only would he be experiencing combat for the first time, but would also be proving to his fellow Marines that he wasn't just some dumb boot that would probably get killed. He was gonna survive and show them all what he was made of.

Jon made it to the berthing area, having followed behind Furby, and stepped into the team's compartment. After Furby had taken his armor out of the closet, Jon went next and retrieved his own equipment. It was about that time when Corporal Davis walked in and began barking orders to be followed.

Jon started undressing as he responded to Davis with a loud, eager tone. "Aye, Corporal!" he bellowed, and hastily started donning his new clothes. He dressed swiftly with practiced ease, having had to dress extremely quickly all too often in boot camp. He thought he had been the first to finish until he looked up and saw that Davis had already dressed and was busy squaring away his rucksack.

The Private sighed and started working on his rucksack after having dumped its contents onto the deck. It was then that he realized that he didn't know what all he needed in his pack and what could be discarded. So, instead of asking one of the three vets that he shared the compartment with, he started playing the guessing game because he was afraid that he would look like an idiot for asking.

Ward moved the flame-proof survival blanket into the pile of stuff he was keeping. Among the items he thought were worth keeping was his hygiene kit, three pairs of spare clothes, his chatter and a couple of books for entertainment in case he got bored while nothing was going on.

It was right as he finished choosing his belongings that Davis asked to see what they had. Ward took a small step back from his ruck so that the Corporal could see what he had. "Is that good, Corporal?" he asked, gesturing toward his belongings on the floor. He hoped that that was good to go, becauase he wasn't looking forward to the reprimand if it wasn't.

[Davis, E.]

Davis moved over to start inspecting his team and chocked on his comments for Ward. If it hadn't been a time crunch, he would have started on a five minute tirade about what it meant to be a dumbass boot. Instead he just moved over to Furby's rucks and looked through it quickly. He had the right idea, but was still missing some important pieces.

"Extra socks and skivvies Furby," he said quickly. "You're going to want to change those, even if you don't get to change your fatigues. After that, you're good."

Moving down over to Avery, he started the same process. Avery was underpacking though.

"Extra set of fatigues, socks, and skivvies, smartass. And get that e-tool off the side of your ruck. You aren't digging into Pheonix III with anything less than a laser."

Taking a deep breath to calm himself, he moved over to wards ruck. Rather than looking through it nicely, he simply upended it again.

"FoxNoGo, let me help you," he said quickly. He slapped stuff together in piles, tossing the hard cover book he found into the open foot locker across the room. "You don't want the weight. Load this, stow this, and then get suited up in your armor. All of you. And then make your way out to the common area and wait on Sergeant Stone. I have to go make sure Wilkas didn't get lost in her own personal form of hell."

Scooping up his ruck on the way to the door, Davis shouldered out into the common area. 

"Sergeant Stone," he barked. "I'm moving down to make sure Wilkas knows how to pack a ruck. I'll bring her back with me. Pound on the door if she packs like a woman."

Davis glanced over his shoulder looking for Faust while he waited on the Sergeant's ok. When he got it, he ran out into the passageway, making a b-line for Wilkas's door.

"Open up Wilkas," he barked, giving the door four pounds of his fist. "We're running out of time!"

[Gray, L.]

Gray smiled when she heard Silva's reply. Looking back at Stringer, Gray and Lawrence followed him as he moved over towards Lieutenant Durant. When the man began to speak, Gray listened carefully whilst trying to fight feelings of rising anger welling up inside of her. She also felt worried and hoped that this battle was not going to turn out like her previous experience. Once Durant had finished speaking, she followed Stringer and the others up to their berthing area.

This was it. She was about to go into battle once more.

As they jogged along to the berthing area, Stringer told them, in no uncertain terms to be ready to move quickly. Gray followed Stringer and the other two to the lockers, quickly finding hers and punched in the number. Gray pulled out the appropriate gear and began putting it on. Once geared up, Gray looked round to see how the others were doing. Stringer and Lawrence were both fully geared up by now and Gray was pleased to see that Silva was catching up with them. Gray watched as Stringer spoke to Silva again, but also glanced at both Lawrence and her.

She listened to him speak and nodded. She was planning to stay alive until she eliminated every single one of those goddamn Covenent. Afterwards Lawrence and Gray both followed Stringer back into the main berthing area. Gray exchanged glances with Lawrence yet again when they heard Staff Sergeant Mason yelling at the marines still in the room to hurry up. Both of them looked to Stringer awaiting further instructions.

[Wilkas, G.]

Wilkas opened the door looking a bit flustered and slightly queasy. In her mind she was replaying the events of their last operation. An experience, which she never ever wanted to repeat. The recent events had left her uncertain of Corporal Davis, on one hand she was her friend, the other a non-commisioned officer who knew something which most of the platoon fortunately did not. 
She had made sure that she had a few pairs of socks, remembering advice from a war veteran that socks could easily be used to make gloves in the bitterly cold environments. Of course she packed gloves, a winter woolly hat but decided against a scarf fearing that it might get tangled or grabbed by unseen enemies. 

"Come on in Davis if I knew you where coming I would have baked a cake." She stood aside so that he could enter and inspect the rest of her kit. Much of it leaned towards winter equipment and fighting. Of which Wilkas possessed a bit on an advantage, much of her training had taken place in a bit of a chiller. She waited for him to make the necessary comments, improvement and complaints. There was bound to be some complaints, as well as suggested improvements. 
She hoped that they would be simple, well worded ones less Davis ignite her temper again... An experience neither of them wanted a repeat of no doubt. 

In all honesty, Grace did not want to face the Covenant again. Her morale wasn't high, if in all honesty it probably lay almost at rock bottom. She did not really feel up to another fight, but she had no choice, she was a marine and marines fight. There was no sitting it out because you did not feel too good. 
She sighed quietly, wishing that she had not been drafted but also wishing for courage to face the coming horrors. Much of her feelings she kept to herself or hid in her diary, Wilkas did not want to spread defeatist talk to anyone.

Grimly she tried to remain resolute and appear confident and able. In reality she had no stomach for another fight with anyone let alone another clash with the Covenant. Life was far to complicated as a marine, life was far too complicated as a civilian. Maybe if she never had been drafted she would not be in this situation now, however... That would mean some other poor soul would be in her boots. She could never have that, this was her position, her platoon. No one else could fill her shoes. 
This was her unit, she may think that she was ill-suited to life as marine but she was a good radio operator. 

[McMillan, J.]

The brief given by Second Lieutenant Durant was pretty much just that. Brief. Jim listened to the man quickly lay out the situation in silence, his mind not totally committed to it. The corpsman found himself running over a mental checklist of all the things he would need to take with him, along with how he would organize his equipment.

He liked going into every situation with a plan. The Lieutenant skirted on a few details that would have made his prior planning much easier to do; such as giving them an estimate on how long they were expected to be on the ground. Jim knew it wasn't possible or feesible for him to provide an exact timeframe, but a rough estimate would have been greatly appreciated. Alas, however, it was not so, and so the corpsman shrugged and pushed the thoughts aside as everyone began to proceed to the berths.

Mac walked briskly through the labyrinth of corridors to the room he shared with the platoon's RTO, Private Wilkas. He'd met her later on the day he and the other replacements arrived aboard the ship and reported in. They hadn't really talked much (mostly because Jim avoided socializing whenever possible), but she seemed like an alright gal. Maybe a little rough around the edges, but not someone that he found insufferable.

Marching through the door, Mac approached his rack and opened his closet. As he began pulling out his stuff, he could hear Wilkas behind him doing the same thing. Jim didn't pay her any mind, though. He was much too focused on making sure he was squared away and ready for his first combat deployment as a corpsman.

Most of his belongings were already packed, a testament to the fact that he preferred to always be prepared for anything to happen. However, he opened his rucksack and pulled out from it his medical kit. Jim wanted to make sure he had easy access to the most necessary tools that he would need in the field. So he unzipped the medkit and started taking items out of it.

The items he deemed that he would need quick and easy access to were his medical scanner, osmotic IV patches and connecting clear plastic tubes, bandages and scissors. He took those items and stuffed them into his first aid pouch affixed to his armored chestplate. Then he zipped up his medical kit and stuffed it back in his ruck beside the long, cyldrinical sterile field generator.

At just about that time there was a knock on the door, followed by the voice of Corporal Davis asking for Wilkas. Jim had encountered Davis a couple times since he'd gotten settled in, and wasn't quite sure what to make of him. Being the platoon's corpsman, Mac was privy to each Marine's medical files. Davis's was... an interesting and colorful read. His PFT scores weren't phenomenal, among other things.

But, he seemed nice enough, and very professional. Aside from concerns regarding the man's file, Mac had no problem with the man so far.

Pushing those thoughts aside, he set about stripping out of his fatigues and donning his winter ones and armor. When he was all finished, he looked over to Corporal Davis and Private Wilkas and nodded at them before leaving the room. He marched down to the end of the hall and waited for the rest of the platoon to finish suiting up.

And then? He would head down to the armory and check out his weapon.

[Ward, J.]

Ward almost immediately regretted not asking any questions when he saw the look on Corporal Davis's face. He thought for sure the NCO was going to chew him out. So when the burly farm boy moved over to Furby to assess his gear, it caught him by surprise, and relished in the momentary reprieve the Marine had afforded him. While he waited for the inevitable, he watched as Davis checked both Furby and Lance Corporal Avery, and listened to what he told them.

So when Davis finally got back around to him, he already had an idea of what he needed to fix. Davis took one look at what he had and then said, "FoxNoGo, let me help you." Before Ward could utter a single word, Davis took hold of his ruck and dumped its contents onto the floor. Immediately he started telling him what needed to be kept and what needed to go, his book falling into the latter category.

"Aye, Corporal," Ward replied smartly. Jon immediately went to work repacking his belongings after Davis left the compartment. As he was stuffing his things into his ruck, a thought occured to him. Before his mind could come up with the answer, his mouth was already moving. "What does FoxNoGo mean?"

Ward regretted his decision to ask when he saw the looks on the faces of his teammates. Furby shook his head at him, while Lance Corporal Avery looked incredulous. "Are you fucking retarded, boot?!"

Jon shook his head. "No, Lance Corporal."

"Really?" Avery asked rhetorically. "Because I think you are! Spell it out, boot! Fox. No. Go. That stands for FNG. Fucking New Guy!"

Realization washed over Ward and he instantly felt like an idiot. He looked over at Furby as Avery mumbled something about new guys and his friend shrugged. "Don't look at me, Jonny," Jay said. "I'm not the one who asked the stupid question."

The private sighed and went back to packing his belongings. When he finished, he set the ruck down and bsgan putting on his armor. He clipped his rucksack to the back of the chestplate and then slipped it on and fastened the straps. The last thing he donned was his helmet, and then he stepped out into the common area to wait for Corporal Davis to return.

[Silva, J.]

Silva's cough was mercifully better, though she could still feel it in her lungs, ready, waiting like a cat moving into position to pounce on unsuspecting prey. She dressed in her gear, calm, methodical before finally putting her helmet on. "Well there are fewer distractions in here to look at and it is a hell of a lot warmer in here." She joked with a thin smile. Silva wanted to stay alive, alive was great, alive meant that she would return home to her family and her old life. 
She did not need the speeches personally for she was possessed with this tireless enthusiasm, but they served to provide her with more. Silva was ready to fight the alien menace.  

Turning to Lawrence, Silva held out a sealed envelope. "Hey..." She began feeling slightly awkward. "Do you mind looking after this for me and seeing that my family get it if... This all goes south please?" Silva thought it bad luck to mention that she might be killed before going into battle. It was just reassuring to her that if the worst did happen, her family would receive her last words. She hoped that Lawrence would accept carrying her letter, otherwise she would have to ask someone else and someone else, till she found someone who accepted it. Thus was a practice she kept before she became a marine, it was a practice she intended to keep now. 
The shouting, which there was a lot of reminded her of the New Paris Uprising far too much, soldiers shouting at each other, yelling at others to hurry up or to move. 
Slightly ironic in a sick kind of way, only this time the enemy wasn't their conspecifics but damn aliens. 

The thought of fighting in a winter world intrigued her, it would be a whole new experience since her home world possessed only mild winters where it may grow chilly or very rarely snow an inch. Deep snow happened to be something completely unknown to her apart from films and stories. 
She made sure that she took a scarf, force of habit mostly but also because Silva liked her scarf even if it just was the standard issue marine scarf for winter environments. 
She shifted uncomfortably under her armour. It was a lot more weight that she had been used to, militia did not get the best equipment nor the best body armour. 

In a way all of this felt a bit like an adventure, seeing the galaxy, fighting evil, defending humanity. The alien menace would be defeated, just like every enemy that ever faced mankind. Sure it would be a long road to victory, their would be losses and painful defeats, yet victory would eventually be theirs. Silva believed in eventual victory, whether in an hour, or a hundred years from now eventually the Covenant would be crushed by humanity.