UNSC: Downtime

[MrKill]

You've all arrived on the UNSCS Athenian and UNSCS Tassafaronga VIA Pelicans and Albatrosses. The Seventh Marines have suffered nearly one thousand casualties on the planets surface thanks to the total obliteration of Second Battalion's companies. Total casualty figures rate the Marines suffered eight hundred casualties with change.

The UNSC Navy, left with only a handful of ships, have taken defensive positions around Sanctuary as the Covenant Fleet moves off and orbits the final habitable planet in the solar system. Another UNSC task force is on the way with four Destroyers and a refit and repair station but isn't expected to arrive for a few days.

The first troops landed roughly and hour ago, but the last of the Marines are still inbound.

You can choose what ship you are on... but remember you can only communicate with those who are on your ship. Please identify what vessel in your post headers.

Colonel Johnathon Killinger
UNSCS Tassafaronga
Seventh Marines

John washed away the dirt that had formed on his face with a piece of rag and water from his canteen. The Albatross rocked slightly as it left the gravity well of the moon behind them. Originally a pelican that contained his daughter landed to extract him but he refused to leave until he knew that he was one of the last men to do so. He wasn't depressed for the losses the Seventh had suffered, but he realized that his original predictions of the Covenants ability to maneuver around the mountainous environment was wrong. It was unfortunate that second battalion lost the city. They were hit hard and with the majority of the Covenant Forces. One thousand marines against an overwhelming opponent.

At first it was broken arrow, then bloody arrow as the UNSC fled the city. The Army had begun to fight back as the Marines were leaving and reports he received from the Force Reconnaissance operators still on the ground indicated they had taken back a couple of blocks. The UNSC Navy was busy ferrying the UNSC Army from Refuge to the moon, which reinforced the Army. There was also a Marine unit on the planet in the form of the Eight Marines that had moved in and occupied the Seventh Marines location. The Eight Marines were the RCT for the 14th Tactical Fleet. The Ninth Marines were also present, but ironically enough, they were actually a garrison unit.

The 'artifact' that was on the planet was still heavily defended by the Covenant Forces, but even John knew it would have been suicide if you didn't break into the lines. What ever that artifact was, it must not have been as important as the one on Refuge -- which John destroyed with a MLA strike from the Iowa. He sighed at the thought. The Iowa was crippled beyond his imagination. According to rumors he had heard it nearly tore in half leaving the gravity well. He kept wondering about his office. More importantly - he kept worrying about Axle.

He knew his sons were alive, and he knew his daughter was too. Kyle and Travis were leaving on the next available UNSC ship, or at least he hoped so. John let himself fade into a semi-snooze but the Albatross landed quicker than he suspected. Either he closed his eyes and an hour flew by, or he closed his eyes when the Albatross was meters away from the massive Carrier.

The Colonel had never been on a carrier of this size... a human carrier of this size, rather. He stepped out of the Albatross and stretched his knee out, scanning the cavernous hanger bays with analyzing eyes. There were at least five thousand people on this ship and it was much bigger than the Iowa would ever be.

"Welcome aboard, sir!" A Marine said, saluting the ranking officer. John quickly returned a half practiced salute that displayed fatigue and annoyance. He scanned the man quickly for any details revealing what he needed. The enlisted Marine, however, looked annoyed as he dropped his arm.

"What did you need, Lance Corporal?" John asked.

"I was ordered by Admiral Klix to inform you that your canine survived. He's in storage A-3 on deck three." The Lance Corporal replied.

John nodded and dismissed him silently. He knew the man would rather be doing other things than playing messenger between officers. At least he knew Axle was safe and on this ship. Axle had become a morale boost of sort for the Marines on the Iowa and was generally liked. The Lance Corporal that was walking away must have found the dog, requested orders, and told to bring it here. John wondered if Rear Admiral York was okay with it, and whether the Lance Corporal liked Axle or not.

It ain't home but it'll do. John thought quietly as he collected his gear and moved away from the Albatross.

[David]

Admiral David Vardy
In Orbit over Hope
Assessing Damages

Sighing, David looked over the padd that was given to him by an Ensign. "Ensign, This report looks like it was written by a 12 year old. There are grammar mistakes, Spelling mistakes and it's incomplete."

Turning Red, the Ensign replied "Sorry sir. It's just I've lost a good friend."

Slamming the padd down, Vardy glared at the Ensign and snarled "As did I, Ensign. Too many to count. This is what you signed up for. Now, do the report again and don't screw it up. Got it? Dismissed." and then jerked his head to the side to indicate the Ensign should leave. The ensign did so, Rather hastily.

"Sir" Paris began. "Are you sure I can't convince you to take some time off? Or do I have to order our CMO to relieve you for 24 hours."

Looking sharply at Paris, Vardy then slumped in his chair. Paris was right of course. He had been testy since he had ordered the Nukes and damn near destroyed his friends ship. He hadn't even bothered to notice just how far away the ship was before ordering the maneuver. He had almost killed his own friend due to his haste to destroy the Covenant. He also hadn't even bothered to contact Klix to see how he was fairing. Likely, Klix would rake him over the coals and never talk to him again. Ruining yet another friendship.

"You know what, Commander?" Vardy said, sighing. "Your right. I'll be in my quarters for the next cycle. You have the bridge." and with that, Vardy got up and went to the lift and punched in the code for the deck for the mess hall. A coffee was in order before he went and relaxed. Caffine never kept him up anyways. 

As the Admiral sauntered down the hall, He saw that repairs were well under way on his ship. But half of his electronics had been shorted out during the battle and his main reactor needed an overhaul. Thankfully he had recieved word that a Repair and Refit was on its way with the relief fleet to hasten his repairs. Hopefully the Covenant would stay away that long to get himself and the ship back to full.

Entering the mess hall, David saw that some of the Marines had engaged themselves in a game of cards, Some of the others were chatting and commiserating, While some sat alone, Heads in their hands. David understood the emotions they were going through. 

Grabbing a cup from the Galley, David poured himself a coffee, Extra sugar today and retreated back to his quarters. Once there, He locked the door and sank down in his office chair, Leaning back. Then, Thinking about it, He keyed the comm to the bridge. 

"Commander Paris, I am not to be disturbed. Unless its the Covenant. No one is to bother me. Understood?" Vardy said. His voice brooking no arguement.

"Of course sir. Pleasant dreams." Paris replied, Cutting the channel.

With that, David kicked up his feet on his desk, Sipped his coffee and contemplated life.

[rookie425]

HA Vivian Nyro
7th Marines, 1st Battalion, Alpha Company, 2nd Platoon
UNSC Tassafaronga

At the quarter turn of a nozzle, steaming water to spouted from the shower head above Vivian, and she made sure to introduce herself to it face first. A grayish murk trickled down the shower stall's white floor, tainting the water briefly before it sank into the drain. Placing her hands on the wall in front of her, she sulked her head, letting the water pass through her hair and into her scalp. As it streamed down to her waist, she arched her back on reaction. The cascade followed every curve of her aching muscles as she shifted her stance, finally standing upright to run her fingers through her short blond hair.

A hint of peppermint aroma filled the humid air as Nyro ran her soapy palms over either arm, working her way to her shoulders, following her form over her modestly sized, tender breasts. The real satisfaction came from the feel of her fingertips running up and down her lower back, working the length of muscles protecting her spine. The shower rooms accommodations were enough to keep up healthy hygiene, but after Hope she was willing to redo boot camp if it mean having a tub to soak in.




Some minutes later, Vivian found her way into the barracks, dressed in a clean pair of Marine OD fatigues and a black tank top, drying her still-damp hair with a towel which she draped over her shoulder as she swayed to her bunk. Her ruck laid on the cot, untouched and just about in the same condition it was in since she left Hope. There wasn't much she had to do to maintain it, in fact she could list the items she needed to restock on one hand: biofoam, medigel, a few dressings and gauze, and maybe a roll of tape. The MA5 that lay beside it, magazine free, bolt locked back and chamber open, still needed a cleaning.

A table rested in the center of the bunk room with a few scattered chairs. Pulling one up, she kicked her boots off at the foot of her bunk and unfurled the blousing at the bottom of her fatigues for comfort. Setting herself in front of the rifle, her hands went to work automatically on muscle memory. Disassembling an MA5 was the easiest task in weapon maintenance next to the BR55. Being the primary assault weapon of the UNSC, in training anyway, it was no mystery why knew its ins and outs.

Flipping the upper receiver, she revealed the entire firing assembly. Despite the action it had gone through, the components were relatively clean. Well built, as always. Gul had taken extra care in oiling everything. Consequently, Nyro's job was easy. The whole ordeal only took around twenty minutes. Locking the barrel back in place after a scrub down, she made sure all components were reoiled and placed back home with a few clicks and clinks. Wiping her hands off on her previous shower towel, she snapped the upper receiver back in place and sealed up the weapon.

A yank on the charging handle revealed a clean ejection port and nothing but raw light. No brass, no live rounds--she let the bolt forward on its own, then put the rifle to her shoulder at an imaginary spot on the wall. The hammer fell dry with a loud, metallic klink, and with a satisfied smile, the Corpsman set the rifle down. Her smile quickly faded when she remembered her intention of bringing it to the arms master, a sudden, depressing image of the rifle sitting in a row of ten others just like it; collecting dust and not so much as a sentimental glance, it would likely wait until some boot came by for armament, ignorant of the value the weapon once had to another owner, of the care--even if brief--that Nyro had gone through to preserve it after  failing to preserve Gul's life. It deserved better than that.

After lacing her boots back on, Vivian ejected the magazine and slung the refurbished weapon onto her back as if it were her own. Getting a feel for the weight would have to take more effort than carrying it while empty, but with some moving around with it, she knew the form was something she could get used to. She carefully set the rifle under her bunk with her M7, on top of a foot locker. This place was already starting to feel like home, or at least as much as home felt like on the
first night of a hotel stay.

But like any stay, it wasn't going to be permanent, and thus Vivian would have to make use of its amenities. Hoisting her A/FAK over one shoulder, she turned on her heel and made her leave from the barracks. "Now to find medlab..."

[Vertickly]

Sgt. Greene
UNSCS Tassafaronga
Helping out...


"Come on privates, help these marines with their gear! They were out there you weren't!" Greene was yelling at his squad, not too loudly, these guys and gals just got back, and needed a breather. He was always happy to lend his privates to help out the others in his unit, you make friends that way.

"Marshall, grab that marines ruck for him, walk with him to his bunk and return here." "Yes sergeant," the young private responded. He looked over to his left and right, seeing his corporals Ramirez, Rios, and Bliss all doing the same with the privates closest to them. He smiled, always happy to see his squad working hard and doing the right thing. Each of them had a heavy piece of gear in their arms or on their backs and letting the other marines only carry their own body weight for a change. Though he was happy, he was also pissed off, he and his men weren't out there with them. Instead they were kept on the ship, in case of any disasters on the ship, they were there to assist. 

His squad had all returned from various marines bunks and traffic was slowing down for now, "Men, go back to your bunks, thank you for helping these marines, probably made their days just that much better for it. Now go and clean your weapons, I will see ya'll in a bit, I'm gonna stay here a bit longer." In unison "Yes, Sergeant," they all replied and headed off to their bunks. 

[rookie425]

HA Vivian Nyro
7th Marines, 1st Battalion, Alpha Company, 2nd Platoon
UNSC Tassafaronga

Private Marvin "Mav" Brecher stepped off the creaking blood tray of one of the last Pelican dropships, his sand covered boots messying the hangar deck as he shuffled his way for the exit. At one side of the bay, he saw Vivian, seemingly in passing. The presence of the ruckpack on her shoulder meant she was probably still at it with treating wounded. They met gazes across the distance, and for a moment they started to make their way to each other. And then, from the other side of the bay, came a boisterous Sergeant and his entourage of subordinates.

He barely heard the man's orders, but from the sight around him, Mav could discern that they entailed offing the load from returning force's shoulders. The Private wanted to appreciate the gesture, but with the battle and the short fight between him and Vivian still in his head, it was the last thing he needed. He was the only one he could trust with his things--no one else.

A set of hands gripped the strap on his ruck, and instinctively Brecher pulled his shoulder away and turned to face the source, punctuating the introductions with an open-palmed shove, only to find it making contact with a young Marine's chest. The kid backed off nonetheless, and with no mind to apologize, Mav wore only a face of irritation.

"Step off, man. I'm a fucking adult, I can carry my own shit. Christ."

Trying to find peace in the incident, looking back at Vivian, he saw shock in her expression. Even still, the corpsman took a step forward. Before anything else could happen, Mav shook his gaze away and stormed out of the room, weaving past the weary and fresh Marines alike.



Vivian raised a hand as though she were reaching across the distance to grab Mav before he could leave. She wanted to tell him to wait, but the noise stopped in her throat and she let her hand down. It was foolish to blame him for being angry; hell, she had expressed her own high-strung attitude with him earlier. Maybe approaching him so soon wasn't a good idea either. If anything, he was probably angry at himself for bringing up the loyalty talks between each other. Nyro only wished that she could tell him that she wasn't holding a grudge.

The Corpsman breathed a heavy sigh to clear her mind and kept her mind busy by scanning the deck. No wounded meant she had no actual business to attend to, although she did need some direction, and the presence of ship-stationed Marines made that possible. She stayed out of the way for the most part until the Sergeant dismissed his squad to their barracks, then approached him from the side.

"Excuse me, Sergeant," she said softly. "I was hoping to find some direction to the medlab."

[Vertickly]

SGT Greene
1/7, Company A, 4th Platoon
UNSCS Tassafaronga

Greene looked toward, the calling of his rank. "Hm?" He looked at the corpsman, "Certainly, I'll take ya there, its a quite a bit of a walk from here." He signaled with his hand for the corpsman to follow as he started walking towards a corridor. He wasn't gonna ask about the mission, he knows from experience, you don't want to talk to someone about the mission that wasn't there, but being an NCO, he cared for the health of the lower enlisted.

"What's your name?" After hearing her say her name he immediately asked about her, and her companion, "What is the deal with ya'll? I understand frustration after a battle, but with my young private, I had every right to smoke him right there. Are you feeling alright, is he?" He didn't want to pressure her into answering, this wasn't an interrogation, but he had his concerns. 

[edtosivaree]

UNSC Tassafaronga

Sgt Octavia Alexandria limped off a Pelican, followed by Cpl Taylor Timperley. They were sharing what gear they had between them, but Taylor had insisted on carrying the rifles. Blast that girls heart, it's going to get her killed one day. She didn't even bother looking for her Platoon. The gods knew that she was going to either be assigned a new one, or she would be told where they were stationed. Until then she just needed to get to the sick bay.

The fight over the city was something she didn't even know how to describe. At first it seemed pretty cut and dry. Drop down feet first, hold position, win the fight. It didn't turn out that way though. On a hail mary shot, her platoon told her and Taylor to see if they could scout out a way for them to get to the Evac Ships, but they were cut off by a fire fight. Octavias leg armour had been blown away when she was hit with two or three needler rounds, and the only thing keeping her going was a mix of Biofoam and Adrenaline. The hard headed ODST had refused medical treatment until she was on the ship. She could walk, she was still breathing, she didn't need it.

That didn't stop her from cursing at herself. To say it hurt would have been like saying watching a planet get glassed was a "Small Loss". Taylor knew not to try and help, but that didn't stop her from worrying.

"Sarge... Are you sure you wouldn't like me to carry some of your stuff? It would be no problem" She whispered. Shy as a Violet that girl was.

Octavia shook her head. "No, don't worry about me. Lets just get you to your bunk and I'll find my way to Medical. They'll patch me up and I'll get right over to you" She said before she turned a corner and ran right into Sargent Green.

The ODST stumbled pretty hard and naturally tried to save herself with her bad leg. Not a good idea. She twisted and slammed against the bulkhead, letting out a sharp yelp. She dropped her gear and got up, trying to ignore the pain so she could yell a whoever it was she ran into.

"Would ya watch..." She started before seeing it was another Sargent. Great. "Sorry Sargent, could you point us towards where the ODST's are being placed, if they even have their own separate space? Cpl here needs to drop her gear" She said, putting a hand on Taylor to steady herself. "We can be outta your hair in a jiff, I can see you guys are having a talk" She finished, hopping a little on her good leg.

[Frazer]

Rear Admiral Frazer York

UNSCS Tassafaronga/ Commanding Officer of the Tassafaronga and Battlegroup B

Trafalgar Class Carrier/ UNSC 22nd Fleet/ Battlegroup B

"Liara status." Frazer said as he moved from his captains chair to the holo table. What was left of the UNSC fleet came to a halt around Sanctuary. Liara spoke.

"Our fleets, left with only a handful of ships may I add, have taken defensive positions around Sanctuary. Admiral Klixs orders. The Covenant Fleet has moved off and moved towards the final habitable planet in the solar system." Liara paused as sigh was heard on the bridge from one of the officers.

"Another UNSC task force is on the way with four Destroyers and a refit and repair station but isn't expected to arrive for a few days sir. Also the first troops landed roughly and hour ago, but marines are still pouring into our ship and the Athenian."

"Right. Blackpool I want the ship ready to fire at a moments notice if the Covenant come back for more. Lets use this as relaxation time everyone. Take a breath. God knows we deserve it. Liara whats the status on our squadrons of longswords?"

"Most of them are on the way back to us now. They are refueling at the Kilimanjaro first Admiral."

"Thats good. Admiral Vardy knows I expect them clean as a mirror." Frazer said laughing to himself. "Right if you need a break go and take one. Its been a long day. Hour max. Ill stay here and look after things." Frazer turned to Tony who was about to leave. "Tony do me a favor. Go and make sure the marines and ODSTs are settling in nicely." Tony nodded as he called for an ensign to follow him out. With only a few ensigns left to manage the bridge along with Frazer, Blackpool and Liara. Frazer thought about rotating the bridge crew but he needs them back in case the Covenant turn up again.

"So what do you guys do for fun here?" Liara said as she stood on her pedestal.

"Well you can go make sure the longswords are gonna get here fine. As well as keeping an eye on the intake of pelicans with marines onboard. We dont want to be to full now do we."

"Ohh fun fun fun." She paused. "Sir." Frazer nodded to her as she vanished from the pedestal. This was time for Frazer to reflect on the days happenings. The entire battle had been crazy. As usual. He was just getting use to his new ship and he nearly lost it. At times like this he misses the Preston. He knew that place off by heart. He waited for Tony to return as Frazer himself wanted a break. 

[John]

Second Lieutenant Charles "Boot(enant)" Callaghan
1/7, Company A, 4th Platoon
UNSCS Tassafaronga

Charles had survived his first mission. Not that he had seen any action or anything. He had been in reserve for the most part, and only in the later stages his platoon was called up. And right after he was picked up, he, along with a few of his sergeants were moved to another platoon. Now he was on the Tassafaronga. Quite a large ship, but he couldn't care less about the size.

Now, with Staff Sergeant Breckinridge by his side he was inspecting his men. He noticed a Sergeant Greene talking to a female corpsman and suddenly wondered if female corpsmen were corpsmen or corpswomen. He didn't linger on it too much, and approached the sergeant. "Sergeant Greene. I am Lieutenant Callaghan, your new CO. I trust that everything is fine? Replacements should be coming soon. I have been promised that they are coming with the next supply run, from the Lexington*. Please, if you need anything I hope you know you can come to me." the Lieutenant said, smiling a little bit uncomfortably.

*: The Lexington is mah Carrier. Kill and I agreed that she's coming with the destroyers and the Repair&Refit thingy...

[rookie425]

HA Vivian Nyro
7th Marines, 1st Battalion, Alpha Company, 2nd Platoon
UNSC Tassafaronga

"Vivian Nyro, Hospital Corpsman," she had replied to the Sergeant's query. She hoped to get away from the topic of Mav as she followed him, but before she could speak up again he hit her with a salvo of questions.

She shook her head. "I'm fine, probably better than ever knowing what I lived through. I wouldn't worry about Private Brecher either."

At that point, she held her tongue. She didn't want to say the wrong thing and get Mav NJP'd for something as little as being high strung. Personally though, Nyro herself would have likely declined if someone offered to carry her A/FAK for her.

"We're all worn out. Your subordinate shouldn't take it personally."

Around that point, another two NCOs showed up, the first of which requesting the location of ODST staffing and the other announcing that he was now Greene's CO. Nyro suddenly felt like she was in the middle of a talk between giants, though really it wasn't much of a deal. She just stayed quiet until she noticed that the ODST Sergeant was stabilizing herself. "You need to get that checked, Sergeant?" she muttered.

[Vertickly]

SGT Greene
1/7, Company A, 4th Platoon
UNSCS Tassafaronga

"He won't, he doesn't yet understand the field of battle, or the effects it can have on you. I just don't like to see it, and sometimes need to be reminded of it.. ughf," A fellow sergeant had run into him, but without any time to react, he was approached by an Lieutenant. He went to the position of attention.

"Sergeant Greene. I am Lieutenant Callaghan, your new CO. I trust that everything is fine? Replacements should be coming soon. I have been promised that they are coming with the next supply run, from the Lexington. Please, if you need anything I hope you know you can come to me."

"Yes sir, everything is fine, and running smooth. And I am very much glad to hear it sir, my last two privates should be showing then as well." 'This Lt, seems nice, hopefully he knows what he is doing' he though to himself. "Thank you sir." 

[edtosivaree]

Taylor leaned up against Octavia quietly and kept her helmeted head down. Octavia accepted the help and saluted the Second Lieutenant. She and Taylor stood there quietly, wondering if this officer was going to leave or dismiss them or what. She was in pain, and her armour was now starting to show signs of bleeding.

"Oh? I couldn't fucking tell" She hissed at the HA. "If I may Sir, I really need to get to a Medical Station" She half hissed in pain, half stated. She was not trying to be rude, but her BDU Fatigues were slowly turning red, and she would rather not bleed out on deck.

Taylor could be seen panicking a little. "It'll be ok" She whispered through helmet coms to Octavia. Octavia nodded before pulling her own helmet off. Her face was pale. "So if someone could point me in the direction, we'll be along our way" She groaned

[rookie425]

HA Vivian Nyro
7th Marines, 1st Battalion, Alpha Company, 2nd Platoon
UNSC Tassafaronga

Nyro, frowned at the ODST Sergeant's words. Just asking, you patronizing cunt, she mused, though refrained from saying aloud. Looking her up and down, the ODST didn't have many options aside from immediate medical care, and seeing as the medical lab was a ways out, according to Greene, Nyro's services were her best bet at getting her leg fixed. "I was offering, Sergeant. If you want to bleed the rest of the way, then I can't stop you."

She glanced at Sergeant Greene briefly. "Sergeant Greene was actually about to lead the way for me. So you and I are going to the same place anyway."

[Guardian Cat of Yappa's]

Captain Kelvin Duncan 

1/7 53rd CE A Co.

UNSCS Tassafaronga

Private First Class Pagan, had been one of the 14 marines from alpha company to be killed in action.  Unacceptable he thought, as he looked among the faces of his company. They had landed in the hanger about 10 minutes earlier. His men huddled together in one corner of the hanger well the rest of the marines scrambled to get aboard. Kelvin removed his helmet as he started to address his men. "Men," he paused for a moment, he wanted to praise his men for their performance today but also remind them that they had lost brothers and sisters today. "The cost of survival is always high, but humanity has always paid it. And one path we shall never choose, and that is the path of surrender. Today you men fought valiantly. You are some of the bravest men I have fought beside, and some of the greatest marines I have gotten to know." He paused for a minute, to let his words sink in.

As his men looked among each other, he continued. "We must remember though, that we lost brothers and sisters in arms down there. Fourteen brothers and sisters, lost to the covenant, they gave their lives so we can fight on. It's our duty to continue fighting, if not for us for them since they would be willing to do the same for us. We got some downtime now, get yourselves cleaned up and fed. Dismissed!" 

The captain proceeded to head to the mess hall, I need to get something to eat.

[David]

Sgt. Tom Baker
UNSC Tassafaronga
Training.

As Tom walked into the ships generous gym, He took a moment to look around at the amenities offered by the very generous Admiral. He had to admit that it was probably one of the nicest and most maintained ones he had ever been at. As he looked around, He also noticed that he had the place to himself. So Tom took the oppourtunity to head over to the punching bag in the standard G section. He had no desire to work out in heavier gravity. It should be a light fare, enough to keep him in shape, but not so much where he would hurt himself.

As he put on his gloves, He felt a tap on his shoulder, Startling him. Turning quickly, He saw that it was his squadmate Amanda. He also noticed that like he, She was dressed to work out. 

Grinning, Amanda punched him on the shoulder lightly and said "Thats two for flinching" and punched him again. Tom just rolled his eyes and gave a sigh as he rubbed his shoulder. He had hoped he would be alone so he could work out his problems by himself, But obviously Amanda wouldn't let that happen. They had become very close. Probably closer than regs would allow, and lets face it, Closer than Tom should have allowed, But during one of their missions together, After a building had collapsed, He had been stranded from his Squad, forced to survive roving Covenant patrols until his Squad-mates ironically found him. When they re-united, Amanda had surprised both of them with a kiss, and from there it was history. 

Looking at Amanda, He smiled weakly before saying "Hah. What are you doing here. I thought you'd be at the mess hall chowing down on real food?" 

Smirking, Amanda merely just donned her gloves and walked over to a hanging punching bag. "Nah. Gotta keep this body in shape. Besides, I don't always think about food you know." she said, Waggling her eyebrows. Tom took the hint, There was a realitivly brief period where they couldn't keep their hands off of each other. But now wasn't the time for that. 

"I know that." Tom began. "I guess I was hoping to work out some issues on the bag by myself."

Looking down, Amanda spoke softly. "Did you want me to leave?"

"No." said Tom, surprising them both. "I think I need someone to talk to." As he walked forward, He noticed for the first time that Amanda had a look of worry on her face. "What?"

"Tom. I'm worried about you." She said softly, looking into his eyes. "You haven't been the same since that one mission."

Shaking his head, Tom started punching the bag. "I know." he said in between punches. "But I'm just not ready to talk about it. Not yet."

Nodding, Amanda gave Tom one of her radiant smiles. "When the time comes, I'm sure you'll let me know?" she said, half statement, half question.

"Yes." Tom replied. "But for now, Lets just have a good time."

[John]

Second Lieutenant Charles "Boot(enant)" Callaghan
1/7, Company A, 4th Platoon
UNSCS Tassafaronga

The Lieutenant was glad everything was good, he really was. If everything was running smooth, he would be chewed out less by the Staff Sergeant. He didn't like getting chewed out. The only thing he could to stop it was getting experience. To get experience, he would have to be at the front lines. And to get on the front lines he would need to convince his boss to send him out.

There was another Sergeant there. She was bleeding out, and seemed a little bit angry. If she was bleeding, why wouldn't she just.. You know? Move on to the medical station? Was she waiting for something? Maybe she believed that the Lieutenant had to dismiss her? "Well Sergeants, Hospital..Woman? I'm moving on. Go do whatever you need to do. Have a nice day." he said.

Then he turned around, and with the Staff Sergeant in tow, he moved on. Heading towards the mess hall to get some chow. After a few minutes, he found the place and got a tray of food. He didn't know what the hell it was, but it sure looked bad. Even MREs looked tastier than this.

Nonetheless, he was hungry and didn't have anything else so he just took the food. With a thud the tray hit the table, and the Lieutenant sat down. The table was empty, so he hoped someone would join him soon. He hated eating alone.

[Cabel]

[UNSCS Tassafaronga: Alpha Company, 1st Battalion, Seventh Marine Regiment: One of the Hanger Bays: Disembarking a Pelican: Captain Mark Seamus “Spade“ Sorelson: December 2547]

Stepping onto the deck of one hanger bay of dozens aboard the carrier, the aging marine took a moment to look around the crowded hanger bay as marines and navy personnel scurried about in a semblance of order. Hundreds of marines had been ferried from the surface of Sanctuary, a moon orbiting the planet where many of his marine brothers and sisters had fallen. One planet of many that had been host of engagements between humans and a species bent on the extermination of mankind in a war that had lasted longer than many that had born the uniform had been alive. An entire generation had been raised knowing how to fight, breath and swear vengeance on the Covenant with millions more having laid on an instacrete highway or a terraced farm for the last time. Thoughts for another time, he mused. Humanity had come together in a single event, a single contest of collective wills and were still fighting hard when critics or species-objectors were still in certain remaining circles had bandied the notion humanity would either roll over to welcome the Covenant in peace or would somehow only last a few years to a few months. Those falsehoods of those predictions, those boasts had been enough to silence most of those whom objected to the war, and he’d been certain more than a few had either willingly joined the war effort on the front or had been drafted.

“Tornado Actual to Tornado One Actual through Tornado Four Actual, if you‘re still in the hanger or still inbound sound off. Count your people if you haven't already. If you haven't, get together with one of the deck officers or liaisons of the Tassafargona‘s crew and figure out those who can still walk and those who need immediate medical treatment. I‘ll get with one of the crew to determine barrack arrangements. Tornado Actual; out,” Mark said having opened the encrypted company-wide channel through his helmet-comm. Letting the mic retract back into the helmet, Spade knew he had to somehow gather the marines of Alpha Company or those that had managed to survive and afterwards would volunteer his company to assist the crew of the Tassafaronga. The notion seemed appropriate considering the Tassafargona’s crew had volunteered in the sense of being their host and while Mark had no doubts the crew of the carrier had been more than capable the influx of personnel both uninjured and injured had a way of taxing even the most trained crews. The MA5C rifle hung from his left shoulder, an almost comforting presence although he‘d lost track of how many rifles he‘d lost in combat over the years either from those explosive needles the Jackals sometimes used being lodged in the barrel or from buildings collapsing around him. Turning around, he‘d head back inside the blood-tray of the pelican to help those marines or flight crew that had been aboard to help them unpack their gear from the overhead netting, to help if someone needed medical help and to at least help boost a little morale if it had been possible. He‘d never been the type of officer, or marine before that to have neglected the marines he‘d fought with in a foxhole or in a derelict coffee shop and he‘d never been one to order those in his command to do anything he couldn‘t have.

[Vertickly]

SGT Greene
1/7, Company A, 4th Platoon
UNSCS Tassafaronga

"Oorah," Greene replied to his new Lt. "Alright, since you guys stuck around, let's hurry up to the medlab. No need to die, after the battle." He  thought to offer his hand to help but didn't, he didn't need to agitate the 'beast' any further. Greene again began to move down the corridor, "The medlab is just up ahead, I haven't actually been inside, but the closer we get, you'll start seeing the signs leading right to it."

Greene was anxious to get these two to the medlab, one for the health of the wounded female and the HA may just need to relax in her own environment of medicine, and two so he can return to his men. He wasn't excited though, for the fact that these two had already began fighting, especially in the presence of the Lt, embarrassing, but he found the humour in it. 'Women, haha' he thought and chuckled a small bit to himself. 

[edtosivaree]

Sgt Octavia Alexandria
ODST
UNSCS Tassafaronga
Status: WW/X(F),B/ND
NPC: Cpl Taylor Timperley

If I could go back to Eridanus II with the knowledge I have now...

          Sgt Octavia Alexandria glared at the corpsman Well then maybe you should speak up and not mutter she growled. Cpl Taylor just lead Octavia away from the situation and towards the MedLab. Thanks for the Direction Sargent Cpl Taylor said quietly to Greene.

     The two hobbled into the Medical lab, and Taylor placed Octavia onto a chair. How a ships medical ward was similar to a civilian hospital after a battle was astounding. A nurse came around shortly to administer more biofoam to stop the bleeding, causing Octavia to hiss in pain. After that, it was the waiting game for the two.

     Taylor, you should go get some rest... I'll be fine here for the time being. You don't need to babysit me Octavia said. Taylor just nodded reluctantly before turning and leaving the Medical Ward. Now Sgt Octavia Alexandria sat alone, surrounded by injured soldiers like herself.


                      ... I would gladly give my life for its protection...

[rookie425]

HA Vivian Nyro
7th Marines, 1st Battalion, Alpha Company, 2nd Platoon
UNSC Tassafaronga

Vivian rolled her eyes as she stepped away from the hot blooded Sergeant. She was in no mood to hear etiquette tips when she was offering her help to someone who clearly didn't need it bad enough to turn it down. "Thanks again, Sergeant," she said as she quietly dismissed herself.

She got ahead of the hobbler and weaved her way into the bustling medlab, immediately taking in the sight of injured occupying the beds. She recognized a few of them, Agatha being one of them. She made her way over to find the woman lying unconscious. The techs had done some work in cleaning the Marine up, in fact Vivian would've guessed that the girl had been fresh bathed. Deciding not to bother the woman's rest, she approached a nearby nurse.

"If you guys need a hand, I'll be around. Other than that, I'm just here for to restock with what you can spare."

[Vertickly]

Sgt. Greene
1/7 A Co. 4th Platoon
UNSCS Tassafaronga


Greene looked at Vivian, "Not a problem Nyro, see you around." 

He walked back towards the barracks, taking corridor after corridor following the signs on the ship. The walk took more time then normal with the heavier traffic on the ship. He didn't mind, he was finally getting to see faces of his new unit. But alas, he reached his squad going over the mortar systems whilst cleaning their rifles. 

"Men let's go, time for some PT. Keep your BDU's on, just remove your tops." 'shit, the only reason I need this to happen is to allow these other marines to sleep'

"Yes, sergeant," they replied in unison. taking off their tops and moving towards the door.

They all headed out together behind Greene. He was leading them to the smaller of the gyms on the ship. Greene looked inside the gym when they arrived and it was empty, so the entire squad walked inside and headed for different machines, benches, and punching bags. Greene headed straight for the pull up bars. He always had the same warm up when he is working out. After doing his pull ups he went over to do dips and knocked them out. Then went on to workout.

[MrKill]

// Col. John Killinger //
// 7th MEB, 7th Marines //

// Condition //
Alive
Healthy

// Location //
UNSCS Tassafaronga
In orbit over Sanctuary

John had managed to make his way through the large carrier and down to the storage rooms Axle was being held. The Marines patrolling the nearby area due to nearby airlocks was a pleasant surprise. The last tram car, elevator and multiple corridors were actually empty despite nearly seven thousand or more people on the five kilometer long ship. John knew that he would get lost eventually and was thankful his NAV Markers were leading his towards his destination. Still equipped with his MA5C and M6D the Colonel would stop by the armory and hand in his assault rifle until he could transfer back over to the Iowa, if it recovered from the damage it was dealt.

The cargo bay door hissed open and to John's surprise, Axle was running around with another Marine. John identified the rank of Staff Sergeant before the HUD information processed. This particular Marine was a dog handler. Dogs, in the war with the Covenant, didn't play any specific role but they were still used. Dogs primarily served as sniffers, a good way to detect a cloaked or distant enemy. Since some species in the Covenant had better -- much better- noses than the humans the canine allies were the only hope to detecting a scout. Some species had even more powerful noses than the canines, but it was the best John could provide.

"Sir!" The Marine said, standing to salute.

John held up his hands in a dismissive waive, so the Staff Sergeant knelled down again to return his hand on the panting German Shepherd. "How is he?" John asked as he crouched next to his dog. Technically, Axle was the Iowa's official mascot, as well as a service dog. He was replacing the missing 'bull dog' of ancient times. John hadn't seen a single bull dog in his career, but he knew they were still around.

"Shaken up, sir." The Staff Sergeant replied.

"I expect so. His ship almost blew up." John replied, sitting down on the floor. He pulled out his tactical pad, typed in Jennifer's name and sent her a message with his location within the text. He knew she wanted to talk to him but he pushed her away and ordered her to return to the ship when she and a Pelican landed. Though he felt she didn't approve of the order... there wasn't much she could do. As a daughter, she had the right to be mad... but she also had to obey his orders as a Marine.

"It still might, sir. Iowa's in bad shape. Klix might have lost her this time." The Staff Sergeant said, but chuckled to himself as the Colonel was fast asleep with his head slung to his right and his back on a crate of food. The enlisted Marine left the room knowing full well Axle was in good and tired hands. The canine curled up onto Johns legs and lay there, sharing a moment of peace with his owner.

[John]

Captain Malcolm WAlker
1/7, Company C
UNSCS Tassafaronga

Captain Walker's first gig as Company C's Commanding Officer went well. No casualties. But then again, they hadn't seen any combat either. They had spent the early hours in reserve, and even then they were on Delta's flank, out of any real combat. There was little to be done about it. Sure, he hoped to see combat soon, but he didn't dislike having a breather for once.

He had been one of the first to be picked up when the call came. He had already taken up residence in one of the temporary barracks in a storage bay. He bought a pair of cammies at the store onboard and quickly changed into them while the rest of the regiment was ferried up.

The Captain decided to go to the hangar bay to meet the incoming troops. Not his entire company had been evacuated yet, and as of yet he was still missing two halves of two platoons.

Coming there, the Captain noticed another Captain he recognized as the CO of Company A. The Captain approached the man, and smiling he said "Hey Captain, have you seen Lieutenant di Maria and Gunny Johanssen by chance?"

TAG: Cabel

[Cabel]

[UNSCS Tassafaronga: Alpha Company, 1st Battalion, Seventh Marine Regiment: One of the Hanger Bays: Disembarking a Pelican: Captain Mark Seamus “Spade“ Sorelson: December 2547]

“Easy now, Eliza. You‘ll be alright. You‘re aboard the Tassafaronga, off-moon and in steady hands. I’ve got you, and I won’t let you go. I’m only undoing the crash-straps holding you to the seat,” Mark said softly personally helping a young sedated Corporal Eliza Ellens whom had been injured across one of her eyes and sported a professionally bound bandage over the left eye out of her crash-seat on the Pelican. Never being one to let his fellow marines suffer, he’d taken it upon himself to assist the five injured marines out of ten that had been aboard that particular Dust-Off. Undoing the buckles on the straps holding the marine to the crash-seat, the aging Marine carefully helped Eliza to her feet and made sure she could feel her issued MA5C as a means to at least center the injured woman. Allowing the young Corporal to lean against him, he’d lead her slowly to the ramp opened onto the hanger deck where a Corpsman and a couple of Naval orderlies stood waiting.

“Let me do the work, and we’ll get to Sickbay in no time. I‘m going to make it a point to check on you, Eliza. I hope you don‘t mind an old Devil Dog calling you that. I‘m going to come by Sickbay to check on you, and we‘re going to see this through. That‘s an order I expect you to follow,” he said with a tone only a father and a caring officer would, regardless if Corporal Ellens hadn’t been biologically related he still considered the marines in the Corps his family. “I’m going to hand you off to this Corpsman and her Orderlies as I need to see to your fellow marines, but I will come by and check on you after I’m finished,” Carefully handing Eliza over to the Corpsman with her Orderlies, he’d take the time that some might consider possibly an unnecessary gesture to place the MA5C in her hands or at least to let it hang off of her left shoulder by the strap. “Take care of her, Doc,” With a bit of a nod of acknowledgement, the Corpsman opened the med-kit she had and did a thorough cursory diagnosis before helping Corporal Ellens to the carrier’s Sickbay.

“Hey Captain, have you seen Lieutenant di Maria and Gunny Johanssen by chance?” a voice rang out prompting Mark to turn to the source. A Captain in cammies approached him, a marine Mark recognized having read the dossier of as well as the marines within the Regiment. Captain Malcolm Walker had been appointed as the commanding officer of Charlie Company, First Battalion and had earned that position by merit rather than by nepotism or some other kind of well placed favors. Mark had to admit the Captain had an impressive record having seen many engagements over the years, and carried with him the responsibilities of a family man. Having a family may not have been outlawed or even looked down on in the Corps, to which some might even claim had been encouraged, but the trait had been rather unique. Many marines had either neglected or hadn’t even bothered with, a tragedy as far as Mark had been concerned and in his own experiences a family man made for a sterner officer whose shared responsibilities in the home carried over into the field resulting in more marines surviving an engagement.

“Aye. Both your Gunny and Lieutenant hitched a ride on my Dust-Off, and last I checked they were taking the time to help some of the wounded ferried aboard with us. They‘re both fine, Captain. That was a furball, but it could have been worse,” Mark replied. “I would have preferred seeing Charlie Company reinforcing our position, but your boys and girls had other responsibilities. Maybe next time, Captain. Maybe your Company will be in the thick of it with my boys and girls. Your people did well though,”

[Astro]

████ Hours, December ██, 2547 (Military Calendar) /
UNSC Tassafaronga, The Head

LCpl Jock McPherson
7th Marine Regiment, 1st Battalion
Tornado 2-4, Fireteam Alpha

"Tass. Ah. Fah. Rong. Ah."

Shake shake.

"TASS. AH. FAH. RONG. AH."

Zip.

"TASS! AH! FAH! RONG! AH!"

Jock splashed a bit of water on his hands and brought some of it to his face. He ran the ship's name through his head a few times. Tassafaronga. He frowned at himself in the mirror and shook his head. Huge spaceships needed to be named after badass shit or funny shit. He'd be overjoyed if he suddenly got transferred to the UNSC Clint Eastwood, or the UNSC Booze and Babes. If that happened he'd try even harder to not get killed whilst doing absolutely nothing in the field.

"What kind of name's that anyway? Tassafaronga?" Jock asked, turning around drying his hands as Warren finished up. "Sounds like an Aztec stripper or sum'n."

"I dunno. Maybe the Rear Admiral got some foreign ass when the ship was first commissioned." the Corporal replied, putting emphasis on the first word of the ship's CO's rank.

"And he wasn't sure if she meant the five klick long ship when she told him it was so big?"

"Exactly."

With a laugh, the Scotsman approached the door. It hissed open and he kept his foot in it as Warren dried his hands and followed him out. They did a right, headed to the end of the passageway and hung a left down some ladders. Now on the mess deck, the pair of Marines headed to the four seater table that Stone and Bellend were sat at.

"Dipshits." Jock greeted, sitting down beside Stone.

[Llau]

1st Lieutenant AJ Bishop 7th Marine//First Battalion// Alpha Company// Third Platoon Reinforcements UNSCS Tassafaronga TAG(s): John

With his platoon being held as reserve on the UNSCS Tassafaronga, Lieutenant Bishop was getting ready to act as reinforcements. It hit him pretty hard when he heard about the Second Battalion; then again, it was hard on everyone when a fellow marine gets killed. He sighed quietly to himself, walking along the busy corridors of the large ship with his platoon sergeant, Staff Sergeant Liam Richardson beside him. The rest of the Third Platoon of Alpha Company he led were scattered about the ship, doing their own thing for now. When Richardson heard Bishop sigh in annoyance again, he lightly punched his shoulder to get the younger man's attention. “Hey, not to disrespect you in anyway, sir. But...” Richardson smirked. “You're doing it again.” Bishop gave him a quick glance. “What?” “That same ol' sigh you do when you're annoyed about something,” he mused. “Oh, I'm just...” He trailed off, shaking his head as he chuckled in spite of himself. “Ehh...it's nothing. Forget it.” “You sure about that?” The Staff Sergeant firmly placed a hand on his shoulder to stop him from walking any farther, and kept it there when Bishop turned to look at him. “I've had some friends down on that planet who were killed trying to defend the city, too.” He gave him a nod. “Everyone has lost a lot throughout this damn war with the aliens, so you know I'll understand if you need to come up for air and talk. I'm available whenever you want to talk about it, you know.” Bishop nodded a little. “I know,” While adding, “And thanks. It's just...” Richardson patted his shoulder. “I understand, Lieutenant.” He paused. “So, want to meet up with the rest of the Sergeants?” “Ah, not right now. I'm getting hungry,” As if on cue, his stomach growled, and he grimaced since the sound was pretty loud. Better than farting, I guess, he thought. The Staff Sergeant laughed. “Yeah, go ahead and eat something. Maybe we'll meet up with you in the mess hall if you're still there.” “All right,” Bishop replied, “See you in a bit.” Richardson nodded, stood in attention and saluted the First Lieutenant. “Here's hoping the food will be better than yesterday, sir. My stomach is still reeling from last night's meal.” Bishop saluted back, grinning. “Well, that's what happens when you decide to eat all four of those burritos, you Irish wanker.” He laughed, lowering his arm back down. Richardson laughed, walking away, saying, “I regret nothing, Lieutenant.” “You'll regret it later if you have a drinking match with Sasha,” Bishop called out to him, chuckling when the older man didn't bother to turn around as he waved. The Staff Sergeant may be a big, intimidating guy, but he sure had a way with brightening people's moods. The Lieutenant soon headed over to the mess hall. With 5000 people on board the vessel, it was bound to be packed, but it was a pretty big mess hall, and could seat a lot of people; probably 300 at least. When he entered, it was pretty busy, reminding him of his high school cafeteria. He managed to find a clean tray and went through the line to find something to eat and drink. He went for a cheeseburger, fries and a soda, and then looked for an empty spot to sit down and eat. He scoffed, “Good luck with that...” He muttered to himself, scanning the room until he found an empty table that only had one person sitting in it. Wandering over to the table, he looked down at Second Lieutenant Callaghan, and gave him a nod. "Hey, you don't mind if I sit here, do you?" He asked. "It's not like there's no where else to sit since it's getting packed like we're a bunch of sardines in a can." He smirked, sitting down across from Callaghan after setting his tray down. He groaned, cracking his neck, and then before he started to eat, he extended his hand over to the Second Lieutenant. "First Lieutenant Alex Bishop. Alpha Company. Third Platoon. You?"

[Kart]

Pvt. Evo Aguellez
UNSCS Tassafaronga, Mess Hall
7th Marine Regiment, 1st Battalion | H&S Company, Combat Photographer

Evo had already eaten his lunch, and was now fully occupied with the all-consuming task of sitting on his ass. He was at his own table, away from the small groups of marines that were already running through introductions and had begun to produce that surround-sound chatter that was so characteristic of cafeterias throughout history.

He knew full well that it was rapidly approaching time for him to do his job--he was just in denial. He slouched back in his chair, silently procrastinating. But however much of a soldier he was, Evo was also an artist, and an artist is always victim to inspiration. What caught his eye this time were a group of marines sitting at a four-seater, already gibing at each other. Ideal shot for a propaganda poster, he thought despite himself. A group of battle-scarred marines, jawing around each other, sharing in camaraderie, right after a vicious battle...

Ah, dammit.

Hefting his camera, he walked over toward them, smiling the practiced smile that all photographers learned to do, to put their subjects at ease. In his cheeriest tone of voice, he parroted the traditional opening that he'd ingrained into himself.

"'Sup, peeps. Don't suppose you'd mind smiling for a picture?"

[John]

Captain (UNSCMC) Malcolm Walker
1/7, Company C
UNSCS Tassafaronga, Hangar bay

The Captain listened to what his colleague had to say, and he had to agree with the most part. "di Maria's a good kid, if a little trying too much to prove himself. I heard you got one of those as well? And yeah. I hope to be down there with you lads next time. At least I have experienced people to work with this time. I remember back in the 17th Marines that we could count the number of experienced people on one hand." the Captain said with his usual Irish accent.

While he hadn't been born on Earth, just about everyone on the ship he grew up with had Irish heritage. Because of this he picked up an accent at an early age. He tried his best to talk without it, though, so that his comrades could understand him.

"So Cap'n. Care for a cold one?" he then asked.



Second Lieutenant Charles Callaghan
1/7, Company A, Fourth Platoon
UNSCS Tassafaronga, Mess hall

The Lieutenant had begun eating his grub. His Staff Sergeant was off doing whatever Staff Sergeants did, while most of his men were resting up. Then another Lieutenant appeared. He nodded, and asked if he could sit down. Charlie returned the nod, so as to say that he could. Then the man introduced himself. They were in the same Company!

"Two-El-Tee Callaghan.. Charlie. Alpha four. Nice to meet you. So... How'd you fare down there? We were held in reserve at the FOB, and weren't given the order until late in the fight. We were unable to get to the fight in time, and were evacuated as one of the first. Looks like you got better food than I did" he said, smiling.


Captain (UNSCN) Dylan Hawkins
CO, UNSCS Lexington
UNSCS Lexington, Bridge

Captain Hawkins had only just woken up. He had shaved real quick and then dressed himself in a fresh pair of blue and grey cammies. Then he got to the bridge. The Marine sentry shouted "Captain on deck!", afterwhich everyone present stood to attention. "At ease, everyone" the Captain said. He stepped up to the holotable and looked at the navigations officer. "What's our ETA, Lieutenant?" he asked.

The Lieutenant tapped a few things, and saw how long out they were. "Sir, ETA to the fleet is... Two days and exactly four hours. It won't be long now." the man said. The Captain acknowledged it, and gave the conn back to the XO. He was going to get something to eat. He already felt his stomach grumble slightly.

[MrKill]

// ADM. Eric Klix //
// 22nd Fleet //

// Condition //
Alive
Wounded

// Location //
UNSCS Athenian
Medical Bay

Eric woke up half dazed, half confused and entirely infuriated with the recent events. His head was throbbing, his eyes felt like they were melting from his body and his uniform was stained with blood. He patted himself down to make sure he was okay, instinct or not, even though he was clearly in a medical bay on board a ship. The last thing he remembered was the nuclear detonation that eliminated his consciousness. He wasn't angry at Admiral Vardy, the man likely saved both his life and the lives aboard the UNSCS Preston.

"Admiral, take it easy." A nurse said as she examined him over. "You've got a mild concussion but you'll make a full recovery. You can leave if you want, your XO is located on the bridge with the Rear Admiral, he wasn't too impressed that he forged your orders."

"Forged my orders? Are we not on the Iowa anymore?" Eric asked.

"The Iowa is destroyed, Admiral. Your ship is nearly in half. There is a refit and repair station on the way from what I've heard, but I don't know the details. Your best source of information would be your XO." The nurse replied and helped Eric up.

"There is a tram car just outside of this medical bay that will take you directly to the deck above the bridge. You can use the service elevator or the stair case to get there. This ship is a little different than the Iowa with a few changes to its structure."

"I made this ship, I know all about the changes. Thanks, Petty Officer."

The Nurse nodded and left his stretcher. Eric grabbed some belongings that were on the tray by the bed, donned his cap and proceeded to leave the medical bay. He couldn't help but notice this wasn't the primary one. UNSC ships had many medical bays and various decks, but the primary one was always the largest. This medical bay was twelve beds and nine of them were taken.

"What deck are we on, Petty Officer?"

"Deck ninety seven, sir."

Eric nodded. The Marathon II class of cruisers had roughly one hundred and eighty decks. Depending on the area, a deck was as small as a one meter tall crawlspace to twenty meters tall. Some of the hangers were as large as thirty meters. On average, though, a deck in one of these cruisers were 5 meters.

Eric left the medical bay and found the tram car the Petty Officer had talked about. He entered the empty tram and entered the rough location to the bridge. He would have made it an express tram but he wasn't in a hurry. There were no alarms blaring, the ship wasn't shaking and nearby Marines were walking casually on patrol. Since they were in a combat area still, their weapons were drawn. They probably had live ammo in them too.

The tram stopped a total of nine times on the eight hundred and twelve meter journey the Admiral had set it on. A group of Marines entered and left, two sailors on a repair detail and a Naval Officer were still on the tram by the time the Admiral had disembarked. He watched with pleasure as the tram shifted forward again. They were going to repair the MAC, or perhaps structural damage nearby.

Eric entered the elevator and it descended to the deck the bridge was located. He found the bridge rather easily after that.

"Admiral on deck!" An officer at one of the consoles shouted.

"Admiral Klix, sir." Rear Admiral Micheals said.

"How long have you been up, Rear Admiral?"

"Long enough, sir."

"Where is your XO?"

"Sleeping."

Eric nodded, "Then get some sleep yourself. I'll take command of the vessel until we get back to Reach."

"Sir?" The Rear Admiral question, but it sounded like he was mentally trying to remain in command. "All due respect, sir, but this is my command." He added. Eric nodded in understanding and watched as the Rear Admiral returned to his job, sitting down at the commanders chair. It was his command, for now.

"XO," Eric stated as he put his hand on his XO's shoulder. "Now tell me what happened to the Iowa."

The Commander sighed, "The nuke tore her apart for sure. Once we boarded the Athenian we realized how bad it was. Honestly, Admiral, she'll be scrapped and disassembled to build other ships. She's still got plenty of useful armor, hull and what-not."

Eric nodded and took a seat by one of the empty consoles. "Do you think they'll make her into a couple of Frigates?" Eric asked with a quirky sense of humor, but sighed. The Iowa was apart of him, loosing it made him feel empty inside.

"Destroyers, sir." The Commander replied. "They'll try to repair her. She's not rated for FTL travel with the amount of damage that has been suffered. If she cannot be repaired she'll be stripped apart by the refit and repair station while it is here."

"That means either the Iowa is used to repair other damaged ships, or to stock the inventory of the refit and repair station." Eric replied in thought.

"Or they could take the materials back to Reach and use them to make another Marathon?" The XO both stated and asked. Eric had said 'Frigate', and the commander replied with dry humor and told him they'd make Destroyers out of her. But there might have been enough salvaged materials to make another Marathon.

"Or maybe the Iowa is downgraded from a Marathon II and recommissioned as a normal Marathon," Eric said. "There is hundreds of meters of materials they can strip apart and reuse after all to repair the original hull."

"No point in assuming what is going to happen to her, sir. We'll find out soon enough."

"Will we?"

"Aye, sir. A refit and repair station is two days out. Three destroyers and a carrier are inbound as well to reinforce the UNSC Fleet."

Eric nodded again. "How many UNSC ships are left?"

"Eight, sir."

Damn it! Eric though.

"Only four Covenant vessels remain. They've pulled back to the last habitable planet to repair. They've still got some Destroyers."

"Well then, we better prepare to destroy them."

[LaxKnight]

PFC Jennifer Killinger
14th Armored Co
UNSCS Tassafaronga

Jenny had a long day. First she got picked up to be sent to her father only to be turned away from him, much to the grievance of both her and the crew she went with. She was quickly dropped off at the hangar of what she quickly realized was a brand new ship that she's never been on. It took her about 30 minutes to find where her company was at. Only a few of their tanks showed up with a majority being on the other ship, including hers. Though she had no work to do, she still had to wait around for an hour for accountability. Luckily when they were released for the day to rest up everyone was going where she was so all she had to do was follow the crowd to find the racks they were assigned.


Jenny was asleep for a solid hour when her TACPAD rang with a message. At first she thought she was imagining things until it rang again. Then her mind flooded with obscenities as she rose her head out of her pillow and groggily reached to find the device. When she found it and read the message, her eyes snapped open as all thoughts but one cleared her mind. Almost as if she got spiked with adrenaline, she put on a skivvy shirt, hopped into her tanker suit, slipped on her boots, tied her hair into a quick bun, then strapped on her sidearm, the M6D pistol, on her leg with speed comparable to a tornado. Making she she actually had ammo for it in case the ship got attacked, she picked up her TACPAD and headed to the coordinates. 

Even with a new map on her 'PAD, it still took 15 minutes for her to take an elevator then walk to one of the many storage rooms. A lone Lance Corporal stood post at the entrance to the area. He looked really absorbed into whatever game he was playing on his game device. She stepped up to him and said, "Excuse me, where can I find Storage Room 37?" she asked.

The Lance looked up for a moment and, when he recognized her as no one of importance, reverted his attention back down to his game. "Third one on the right," he said, his eyes glued to it.

"Thanks. Good luck," she said with a hint of sarcasm. Fucking Supply, she thought. She opened the door to find her father, still in his gear on, sitting on the floor and leaning against crate with Axle laying in his lap. Her heart welled up with emotion from the sight. It was a touching scene of the bond a man and his dog shared. She wished she could take a photo to keep it frozen forever. Though it was so beautiful, it was tainted by the thought in the back of her head that this dog probably has spent more time with Dad than she has. She crossed her arms and leaned against the threshold, not wanting to interrupt the moment and her Dad's much deserved rest.

Axle was the first one to notice her. First an ear swiveled her direction then his eyes opened up and spotted the brunette. "Shhh," she hissed quietly but the canine was happy to see her, his head raised with a big smile on his face and his tail wagging with joy. Undoubtedly it would wake up the Colonel.