Lady Absinthia
RumikoOhara
ReedeThe23rd
Shadow Dragon
Chasebloodcrest
Starboard Watch
Sleip
ethanjory
Sanity43217
role model
Deck 11, USS Vigilance
The marines of one seven stowed their gear in their rooms and cargo bays on deck eleven. An arms room was constructed in cargo bay ten. The Company’s two Argo Buggies and two TT4s were beamed aboard the ship into the newly acquired cargo bay. The marines enjoyed the access to the four holosuites on their deck, but knew the commander and first sergeant would probably use those for training purposes only.
“Excuse me, sir,” Gunnery Sergeant Washington addressed the unit commander. “I’ve installed a physical fitness routine into Holosuite five and a gunner range routine in suite six. I’ve been working on a training schedule for level one skills starting as soon as possible. I’ll need you to look it over. If you have any input on collective training ideas for you and your lieutentants, please share with me and I will get them set up in one of the holosuites.”
“Thanks, Gunny,” Major Watkins responded to his operations officer. “Do you happen to have the first sergeant’s personnel report?”
“Yes sir,” Gunny Washington, an African American NCO from the American city of Philadelphia, Pennsylvania said as he handed his datapad to his commander.
Major Watkins looked it over mumbling to himself, “authorized 219, 209 on hand. Shortages, nine carabiners and one rifleman.” He stopped when he saw the next line, then looked up at Gunny Washington, staring him eye to eye. “Five cases of Andorian clap?! Seriously!?”
“Ah, yes sir. Apparently some of the men went out for a night on the town before we left San Diego and bumped into some loose Andorian women and a little more fun than they expected.”
“Wonderful, I assume they have reported to sick bay?”
“Yes sir,” Gunny Washington responded with a smile. “The Andorians are acting up over Platoon Sergeant Skulvik.”
“Not this again!?” Major Watkins was annoyed at the racist contempt the Andorians displayed toward their one and only Vulcan in the company. “I know Platoon Sergeant Skulvik can take care of himself, but I’m going to ask the first sergeant to take care of this.”
“I need to head to the bridge. I’m sure the Captain will have something for us to do soon. I want to give him an update and tell him our training plan. Keep up the good work. Ask Captain Poggok for his hand to hand combat routine. I want the officers and senior NCOs to begin training in the Klingon style of combat as soon as possible.”
“Aye aye, sir.”
“That means you too, Gunny!”
“No problem, sir. I look forward to it.”
Major Watkins turned away and headed for the turbolift and the bridge.
Command Master Chief Byn Ch'oviaval exited his quarters on deck six making his way toward the turbo lift to the bridge. A few steps behind him was the Commander of the Marine Detachment, Major Kurt Watkins.
“Good day Chief,” Major Watkins addressed the blue-skinned Andorian NCO who stood about the same height as he but only slightly thinner. Major Watkins was pretty excited about this trip. He had no clue what the marines of one seven were in for, but he knew whatever it was, they would do well.
“Good day, sir,” Command Master Chief Ch’oviaval responded. He did not know the marine, but could tell from his uniform that he was a marine, undoubtedly the commander of the Marines aboard ship. “Are your men settling in?”
“Aye, chief, they are. Have you met first sergeant Cue? I’m sure you will want to speak to him eventually.”
“Aye, sir. I will at that.”
“Master Chief, I have a situation I would like to ask you about. It is Andorian in nature and I don’t want to appear too insensitive, but I’m afraid it may affect the morale of my unit.”
The Master Chief was completely taken in by the Major’s proposition. “Tell me what is your situation?”
“We have thirty-seven Andorians in our company and one Vulcan. It has come to my attention that some of the Andorians have expressed racist attitudes towards our one Vulcan. I know the two peoples have a history of armed conflict, but those disputes were settled ages ago. What’s the deal?”
Chief Ch’oviaval smiled at the mention of this problem. “Well sir, For the Vulcans, that war ended two hundred years ago, but for some of the harder hit regions in Andorian space, the war ended yesterday. Parents have perpetuated the anger towards their Vulcan overlords for generations.” The master chief made quote signs in the air with his hands when he spoke of Vulcan overlords.
“I see. I sure hope they don’t give me a problem since the ship’s captain is also a Vulcan.”
“Sir, when I talk to your first sergeant, I can offer my assistance in talking to your Andorians. It might be easier coming from one of their own.”
“Thank you, Command Master Chief. I appreciate your assistance.”
The two rode the Turbo lift to the bridge and exited it to see the Bridge crew performing their duties. The Executive Officer, Commander Udrus, a Bajoran about ten years younger than the Chief sat in the Commander’s seat. The Chief took the chair to his left. “Is the old man in his ready room?”
Meanwhile, Major Watkins approached the Tactical Station. He knew nothing about the position or the station the tactics officer stood in front of, but commanding the naval infantry contingent aboard ship, it seemed like a logical place for him to await the ship’s captain and his orders.
The marines of one seven stowed their gear in their rooms and cargo bays on deck eleven. An arms room was constructed in cargo bay ten. The Company’s two Argo Buggies and two TT4s were beamed aboard the ship into the newly acquired cargo bay. The marines enjoyed the access to the four holosuites on their deck, but knew the commander and first sergeant would probably use those for training purposes only.
“Excuse me, sir,” Gunnery Sergeant Washington addressed the unit commander. “I’ve installed a physical fitness routine into Holosuite five and a gunner range routine in suite six. I’ve been working on a training schedule for level one skills starting as soon as possible. I’ll need you to look it over. If you have any input on collective training ideas for you and your lieutentants, please share with me and I will get them set up in one of the holosuites.”
“Thanks, Gunny,” Major Watkins responded to his operations officer. “Do you happen to have the first sergeant’s personnel report?”
“Yes sir,” Gunny Washington, an African American NCO from the American city of Philadelphia, Pennsylvania said as he handed his datapad to his commander.
Major Watkins looked it over mumbling to himself, “authorized 219, 209 on hand. Shortages, nine carabiners and one rifleman.” He stopped when he saw the next line, then looked up at Gunny Washington, staring him eye to eye. “Five cases of Andorian clap?! Seriously!?”
“Ah, yes sir. Apparently some of the men went out for a night on the town before we left San Diego and bumped into some loose Andorian women and a little more fun than they expected.”
“Wonderful, I assume they have reported to sick bay?”
“Yes sir,” Gunny Washington responded with a smile. “The Andorians are acting up over Platoon Sergeant Skulvik.”
“Not this again!?” Major Watkins was annoyed at the racist contempt the Andorians displayed toward their one and only Vulcan in the company. “I know Platoon Sergeant Skulvik can take care of himself, but I’m going to ask the first sergeant to take care of this.”
“I need to head to the bridge. I’m sure the Captain will have something for us to do soon. I want to give him an update and tell him our training plan. Keep up the good work. Ask Captain Poggok for his hand to hand combat routine. I want the officers and senior NCOs to begin training in the Klingon style of combat as soon as possible.”
“Aye aye, sir.”
“That means you too, Gunny!”
“No problem, sir. I look forward to it.”
Major Watkins turned away and headed for the turbolift and the bridge.
Command Master Chief Byn Ch'oviaval exited his quarters on deck six making his way toward the turbo lift to the bridge. A few steps behind him was the Commander of the Marine Detachment, Major Kurt Watkins.
“Good day Chief,” Major Watkins addressed the blue-skinned Andorian NCO who stood about the same height as he but only slightly thinner. Major Watkins was pretty excited about this trip. He had no clue what the marines of one seven were in for, but he knew whatever it was, they would do well.
“Good day, sir,” Command Master Chief Ch’oviaval responded. He did not know the marine, but could tell from his uniform that he was a marine, undoubtedly the commander of the Marines aboard ship. “Are your men settling in?”
“Aye, chief, they are. Have you met first sergeant Cue? I’m sure you will want to speak to him eventually.”
“Aye, sir. I will at that.”
“Master Chief, I have a situation I would like to ask you about. It is Andorian in nature and I don’t want to appear too insensitive, but I’m afraid it may affect the morale of my unit.”
The Master Chief was completely taken in by the Major’s proposition. “Tell me what is your situation?”
“We have thirty-seven Andorians in our company and one Vulcan. It has come to my attention that some of the Andorians have expressed racist attitudes towards our one Vulcan. I know the two peoples have a history of armed conflict, but those disputes were settled ages ago. What’s the deal?”
Chief Ch’oviaval smiled at the mention of this problem. “Well sir, For the Vulcans, that war ended two hundred years ago, but for some of the harder hit regions in Andorian space, the war ended yesterday. Parents have perpetuated the anger towards their Vulcan overlords for generations.” The master chief made quote signs in the air with his hands when he spoke of Vulcan overlords.
“I see. I sure hope they don’t give me a problem since the ship’s captain is also a Vulcan.”
“Sir, when I talk to your first sergeant, I can offer my assistance in talking to your Andorians. It might be easier coming from one of their own.”
“Thank you, Command Master Chief. I appreciate your assistance.”
The two rode the Turbo lift to the bridge and exited it to see the Bridge crew performing their duties. The Executive Officer, Commander Udrus, a Bajoran about ten years younger than the Chief sat in the Commander’s seat. The Chief took the chair to his left. “Is the old man in his ready room?”
Meanwhile, Major Watkins approached the Tactical Station. He knew nothing about the position or the station the tactics officer stood in front of, but commanding the naval infantry contingent aboard ship, it seemed like a logical place for him to await the ship’s captain and his orders.
(Squad Machine Gun)
(Platoon Machine Gun)
