Roman

Unit GC-88, Operation: Eden

I'd rather keep those to NPC's - drill sergeants aren't going to be deployed, whereas players are. A veteran on his last terms, sure.

Unit GC-88, Operation: Eden

Unless you've specified differently on your sheet, yes. Holland, being older, I would expect to be off-duty from planetary deployment, and as such on-camp already, practising at ranges and spending his leave how he likes (within guidelines). Unless you'd like to be with the fresh recruits, returning from off-planet leave.

Unit GC-88, Operation: Eden

The first IC post has been launched! Here's to maiden voyages, and the hopeful success of this rp.

Follow up whenever you can!

Unit GC-88, Operation: Eden

Welcome to Unit GC-88 of the Galactic Coalition Military, Private! Now hustle!
GM:Roman | Consultant/Co-GM:Lord Wraith

---

It is the year 2277. Man has conquered space travel, and has begun the necessity that is colonizing the planets of their local star space, known as the Genesis System. Their home planet, Gaia, is no longer their first choice; it is for the destitute and the unwanted. Those deemed 'valuable' or 'necessary' have been shipped to colonized planets, and everyone else scrapes up what cash they have to get the same opportunity.

As more planets became populated, ruling parties on all colonies formed a collective government, operating as a singular ruling organisation for all colonised planets in the system, known as the Galactic Coalition. The GC runs centrally through the Zion Station, a massive space vessel large enough to harbour a population almost equal to some of the planets that Man colonised, and the only one of its class.

But the Galactic Coalition, however idealistic, sadly cannot keep order throughout the light-years of the Genesis System across the several colonies without a considerable military force. And so, it is a considerable military force that the GC has created - the GC Military. Conscripting from all colonies, and even from Gaia, recruitment is consistently successful, mostly due to fresh recruits being offered free passage to Boot Camp, and a home on one of several colonised planets after two to four successful terms of deployment, depending on each assignment.

You are one such recruit, heading for your training camp on Primitus, the first colonised planet, and now used solely for Coaltion VIP's and military operations. You are awaiting touchdown, preparing for training, and hoping that your deployments will not result in a painful death. For whatever reason you joined up, you're here now, under the employment of the Galactic Coalition. You just hope your new life is better than the one you left.

Gear up, soldier. You're arriving.

---

"Buckle up, ladies and gents. We're landing in three minutes."

Justin sat down and strapped up. He preferred standing when travelling, but the Military wasn't a place for what you 'preferred', it was a place for what the Coalition told you to do. Most of it harmless, or so he'd heard. The general opinion on the shuttle was that deployment was peace-keeping. More a police force than an Army. Still, there were rumours from the outer moons that a few select individuals were growing tired of living under the GC's eye. Rumours that a few select individuals had decided to try and do something about it. That sounded more like army work. Justin wasn't sure which one he'd prefer. Supposedly, peace duty was rather humdrum, and he'd had plenty fill of that back on Danus.

Danus. Small world. Small colony. Small life. There were a few on the shuttle who had to ask for more specifics when he named his home, and he didn't blame them. It was a boring small moon colony with boring small people. He was nearly caught in it, but managed to break the pack. Couple terms of deployment and he could live on Calidum, or even help spearhead a new colony in the outer rim - everyone knew that's where the GC had their gaze turned upon. Expansion was the name of the game. So much so that colonies like Danus got left behind. It didn't surprise Justin, he'd learnt enough of the GC's history. If they could forget Gaia, then Danus was barely a blip on Zion's radar.

Justin's hypocritical self-righteousness was interrupted by the turbulence of planetary atmosphere entry. Primitus, the first off-world colony, and lazily named in Justin's lofty opinion. Repurposed for GCMilitary operations, and a large boot camp set up slightly offset from the South Pole. Primitus was cold and rocky and had high winds and Justin thought it was for these unpleasantries that the planet's ultimate purpose had been chosen. The rumour was that deployment was easy, but they made up for it by making sure you scraped mere survival in training.

The low thrum of the engine morphed into a singing whoosh as the atmospheric boosters kicked in and took over for landing. The shuttle seemed to groan at the change but it behaved, and gravity overtook them, a collective gasp from the passengers as their weight came back. Justin felt his legs become anchors to the floor again and noticed they felt slightly more solid. Primitus' higher gravity added another layer of fun to the military drills. They touched down with a definitive 'bump' and the seargent's voice rang loud and rough over the whining sound of the boosters cutting out, and the sharp hiss of hydraulic seals unlocking and the shuttle ramp lowering.

"Welcome to Primitus, Recruits! Down that ramp lies the finest military the human race has ever seen, and you lucky sons'a'bitches get to join them! But I gotta make one thing clear. I don't give a rats ass what corner of the System your scrappy hides have come from! Whether you from the rough ends of Gaia or high-fuckin'-falutin' Zion, whatever you got don't mean shit when you step off that ramp. You're GCMilitary now, and that means you're better than when you stepped on this sorry shuttle."
The seargent bent down and picked up a pack that rested by his feet. He lofted it with one hand, displaying it to the recruits.
"You'll all find one of these under your seats. It's got your bedroll, some rations, water, extra uniform, your civvies, and a couple bricks in it."
The recruits looked nervously at each other.

"You may have noticed that the gravity on Primitus is a little stronger than the colonies. This is something that you're gonna have to get used to over training. But we decided that we were gonna give you some help! Generous fella's that we find ourselves being." He put the pack down and pointed down the ramp.
"Camp's ten miles that direction, privates. Y'all want food and barracks to sleep in, I suggest you get to walkin'."
The recruits stared at him dumbly, packs slung over shoulders.

"Ten-HUT, RECRUITS! MOVE YOUR ASSES."

The Mavericks: Valiant Heroics

Cassie shivered, but it didn't bother her. It was cold up here, overlooking the dock warehouses, number 12 below her slightly to the right. Initially, she'd thought of moving her set up to the edge of the rooftop, getting a straighter shot, but after an inital scan through the scope of her rifle after the sun had set she saw the skylight that the message had specified. She didn't know why her instructions featured it so clearly, but after tying the location of the skylight, the angle of her shot, and the placement of the gas tank - she'd made a mental note of its position after her afternoon recon of the warehouse before heading home to prepare - she could guess. It was toward her, against the wall facing the rooftop she was on. The other side was sea, no rooftops to take the shot from there. Fuckin' Locke always liked a show. Apparently her targets counted.

She'd have to bounce the damn shot. The shot would go through the glass - despite the lovely open window that someone had left propped open - and glance off a support beam that was conveniently exactly where it needed to be. It was why she hadn't moved over like she thought about earlier - the angle would be wrong. She looked through the scope of her rifle again, but moved down along the wall to the small white chalk-mark she'd made earlier. It was, roughly, the center of the gas tank. She rechecked her shot for the third time. She wouldn't even need to, when the focus came, as long as she knew her target - but still, it afforded some confidence. Or, at least, kept her mind busy. She hated thinking about her targets. She hated what she did. She thought of Jo. She thought of her afternoon.

-

After she'd received the message and descended from the office building, she'd walked leisurely to the docks. It was a fair distance from where she was, but she was used to walking, and the dull aching of her soles didn't bother her. She'd checked out the warehouse, subtly pushing up the sleeves on her arms to show her tattoos when someone looked to approach her. She'd wandered 'innocently' through the warehouses, pausing only slightly at 12-A to scan the layout before stealing away. She left the docks completely, heading to Jo's apartment to spend as much time as she could - Jo talked excitedly about a school dance her 'benefactor' (that was all Locke was to her, and Cassie meant to keep it that way) had somehow afforded her passage to, including a beautiful dress that Locke had allowed her, and a cute boy for a date that Jo had managed quite all by herself. Cassie was jealous, but reminded herself that her life was not that of frilly fashion and handsome men anymore.

After that, she'd bid Jo good luck, and given her the customary kisses and assurance of love, and returned to her own apartment. Cassie still hesitated to call it her home. Once there, she'd taken an hour to herself. A rare luxury, but fuck it, she was paid enough to afford it. It wasn't even eight by the time she was out of the shower, and despite the contrast between Jo's evening - already begun, spiked punch and fumbling male hands aplenty - and Cassie's - still a few hours to go, focused hands and a steady eye - she managed to enjoy herself as she lounged about half-naked, drip-drying because why not, that Locke motherfucker can pay to get the waterstains off the wooden floor.

Come ten, she was ready. Wig in place, contacts in, outfit changed. White was the colour she'd chosen when her disguise was ordered, and she liked it. Everything about Quintain was designed to be as far from Cassie as she could manage. Quintain's bright, conspicious garments to contrast the dull, plain fashion Cassie sported. Quintain's fair, messy hair, to counterpoint Cassie's dark, sheer-cut fashionable bob-like hairdo. Quintain's unnatural shining amber eyes to displace Cassie's low moss-green. It was all carefully constructed to allow Cassie to distance herself, deindividualize Quintain, assume a persona and protect herself from what she was doing. It worked. So far.

Eleven. She was on the rooftop, despite an hour and a half - and four minutes - still between her and the appearance of her hit. Still, she was always early. Settling down, setting up her rifle, leaving to mark the gas tank position on the outside of the wall, coming back. Checking her shot. Checking again. She looked at the guage she had set beside her rifle, completely unnecessary but she liked it. Mostly for the time display. Half an hour to go.

Cassie started breathing.

Unit GC-88, Operation: Eden

Yeah, the sheets I was waiting for are seeming to take a little longer than expected.

I'll go ahead and start the IC. Expect the first post tonight or tomorrow.

Unit GC-88, Operation: Eden

Ah, don't worry about it. Thanks for your interest, though!

Just waiting on one or two more sheets before I launch the IC. Newclib, your sheet is wonderful now, thanks.

Unit GC-88, Operation: Eden

I'm not complaining about the mentioning of marksmanship, but everyone will receive shooting practice in training anyway so that they can shoot well enough to be deployed, and I just don't want people fighting over sniper rifles - or everyone using one.

Unit GC-88, Operation: Eden

Not too sure about the 'multiple coding languages by thirteen' bit, but otherwise pretty solid. Accepted.

Although, fair warning to others - I'm going to be careful about more characters from Gaia, and more characters whose skills include 'marksmanship' or 'good shot'. There are two other planets to come from, or you could even make up your own moon colony, and the obsession with the sniper archetype is something I'm looking to avoid.

Unit GC-88, Operation: Eden

Personal computing devices similar to more-functional Pip-Boys are in development, but there is nothing stable so far. Current computing technology is mostly powerful tablet-like devices rather than laptops, and large server-like supercomputers.