A month after being rescued from Surandan, the 500 or so survivors were given a choice: Join the UTR Spacy, and fight for the continued survival of their race, and revenge for their planet, Or be shipped off to the Altres galaxy, to live safely away from the Drathonians. Most chose to leave, they had had enough of hellholes and fighting, but a select few figured it was their duty to fight for those that had rescued them.
Those few, were now in training to become Marines and Pilots of the UTR. After all the struggle on Surandan, they had found themselves in another kind of Hell. Boot Camp.
Asher Orkin Westwood, after fighting alongside the ground-pounding Marine squad back on Surandan, found himself in a position to where he wished he were back on the shitty planet. The Surandanian found himself standing on his hands for five hours in front of the mess hall as other Refugee-Marines, done with their training passed by to watch the strange short man stand so stalwartly. Asher himself only had the issue of his palms sweating from the warm ground of Waypoint. Otherwise he was rather stable as he held his legs high up in the air, balancing a holopad labeled 'Discipline' on both his feet. Every now and then the sweaty soldier would look left or right to see was going by, and some times up, to check the ticking minutes go by. Luckily for him, he only had ten more minutes to go.
As Asher contemplated his luck at only having a few more minutes to go a pair of shiny black boots and heavily starched dress blue pants appeared in his peripheral. As they came to be directly before him the owner swiveled facing the strained refugee.
"When an officer walks by you are expected to salute Private." The voice of a woman came from above Asher's head. "Now show me you know the proper respect due to an officer before I double the time left on this clock soldier!"
The owner of the voice smiled to herself, She had heard this Surandanian rat had been a problem and she had become determined to see him set straight.
The Surandanian in question tilted his head to the side, looking up at the brooding officer above him. He arched an eyebrow at her, focusing too much to make a proper response at the moment. Instead, he made a show out of it. First, he tilted his foot to allow the datapad to slide off. Then, he caught the datapad in his mouth, and crunched it between his teeth, causing the [DISCIPLINE] shown on it's screen to flicker and die. Finally, with a little adjustment of his body, he lowered a foot down to where the boot was technically saluting the officer. He made a grin through the damaged data equipment in his mouth.
The officer bent down towards Asher, a smile on her face. Then with a quick movement she slammed the heel of her hand into the surandanian's chin, crushing the datapad even more and causing it to splinter, bloodying the marine-in-training's mouth. She stood up and opened her mouth to speak again, but stopped when out of the corner of her eye she saw another officer entering the quad.
Destiny had, by now, stopped in her course out of the Mess hall, and was standing roughly ten yards away from Asher and the Officer, shaking her head at the stubby man's defiance. She watched as the officer bullied Asher, and knew it would only make matters worse for the both of them. She was half-tempted to stay where she was and just watch, but something told her it wasn't the best of ideas.
However, before Destiny could make the decision, she was forced to salute. A tall, thin man wearing an officer's uniform with a lot of bars walked by, his expression an odd mix of disinterest and amusement. His short brown hair and bright blue eyes were crisp and perfect, more so than most of the people she had seen in this military, and he exuded some kind of Aura that chilled Destiny to the bone and rooted her to the spot. He was, of course, the Base Commander: Brighton.
Asher spat bloody chunks of plastic onto the ground. It reminded him of his initiation in the clans back on Surandan. Except, they didn't stop when they drew blood. Still, there were shards of plastic and other bits of electronics that had tore into his mouth, and it made him regret his little show. Slightly. Still, he continued hack up plastic pieces as the bit into Datapad lay on the ground, droplets of blood dribbling down to pool over the screen. Instead of speaking, he raked his tongue with his teeth, pulling out what ever bits he could so he wouldn't swallow it.
I guess iss' betta' than actually havin' t'work f'ya food... thought Asher as he stared back down at the ground, eying his own blood, and then clock. His arms shook a little from the pain, but they quickly stiffened when he found himself becoming weakened.
Drill-Captain Emma Card glared at Asher as he coughed up blood all over the grass."Ten minutes are over soldier get up and make yourself look presentable, then join in with the others and get moving." Her voice was little more than a hiss and she had already turned her attention to the Base Commander.
Card strode over to Brighton, a frown on her face. "What are you doing on my field sir." She asked the Commander, venom in her voice and a clear look of disdain on her face.
When the Drill-Captain had released Asher, it came with such surprise that he accidentally fell onto the mess he (and she) had created just earlier. His left cheek collided with the ground, pieces of plastic stabbing up into his flesh and drawing more blood. Luckily, he still had a hold of the ground. He groaned for a moment, before his legs toppled over and he landed on the balls of his feet. Still, he quickly mustered himself, and stood straight for the arriving officer, with a stalwart salute, and plastic still jutting out of his face.
Brighton stopped when Card addressed him, breaking into a wide grin. "Ah, Miss Emma. Having a little fun with the recruits are we?" He began, taking his time returning the salute. "But, if you recall, while you are in charge of the field, I am in charge of the entire base." Gingerly, he pulled off one of the thin leather gloves he had been wearing, and inserted it into a pocket, still grinning maliciously.
The slap came with such suddenness and force that it nearly knocked Card off of her feet, and certainly made a lot of spit fly out of her mouth. Brighton wiped his hand off on a handkerchief before putting his glove back on, before he addressed her once more. "I will have no disresepct, especially of my officers. The punishment assigned this recruit was justified, and I would rather you not go making it any worse." His voice remained silky smooth and calm, never changing in tone, but his grin had receded into a stone-cold glare.
Destiny stood, wide eyed, staring at the scene, terrified, despite having lived nearly fifteen years on a death world.
Asher spat a piece of plastic from the side of his mouth, still holding the salute.
Emma swayed with the blow and then righted herself, once again having to come face-to-face with the fact that she only came up to the Brighton's shoulder, and that the bastard was only of average height which made her short. Glaring daggers at the Commander, Card refused to relent.
The undisciplined soldier, on the other hand, was staring at Destiny's rather appealing parts, as the Card continued.
"What you do is "having fun", what I do is necessary - if harsh at times - for making quality infantry." Emma had begun speaking with her voice low, just a private talk between officers, but her voice rose as she spoke to him. "I understand you have concerns about the proper treatment of the new recruits, but it is well under control. Now, Sir, there are quite a few requests from the other officer awaiting you in your quarters and I'm sure your time could be better spent." The Drill-Captain held herself back, wanting to do nothing more than yell for the man to get the fuck off her field and leave her to her duties.
Destiny frowned at Asher, widening her eyes in order to try and tell him to stop looking at her, and instead be respectful, but she could tell it was not working. It didn't help that She had been heading toward the gym, and was wearing her PT outfit, only giving Asher more to look at.
Brighton, as Card spoke, continued to glare at her, though his expression had become more impassive. he had folded his hands behind his back, giving the junior officer due respect, like he wanted her to show. However, as she continued to remain defiant, his hands moved to the fore, and his left started tugging at the glove on his right. To a passing observer, he might be adjusting his gloves, but Card could very well tell what it meant. "I have cleared all the requests already, there is no need to worry about them, Card." Brighton explained, turning towards the surprisingly still Asher. "However, something needs to be done about this man, here" He turned around, as if looking for someone, and spotted Destiny. "Ah, now here's a good girl, please, come join us, Private Briggs."
A quick Salute, and Destiny approached cautiously, somewhat afraid of the commander. "Sir!" She saluted, once more as she arrived.
"Why don't you escort Card and Private Westwood to the Infirmary. Westwood needs treatment, and Card needs to submit a report explaining why she willfuly injured one of our recruits." Destiny saluted again, making an annoyed face at Asher, and taking a lead toward the Infirmary. "Oh, and Card. You're temporarily demoted to private. I'd like to have a word with you in my office once you're done in the infirmary, is that clear?" Without another word, Brighton moved on, continuing his stroll through the Base.
"Sir!" barked Asher loudly, still holding his salute, hoping the smoothest man he had ever seen operate a situation walk off into the sunset had heard him. His voice was raspy from the cuts on his tongue, and blood spattered out of his mouth with the word.
Unfortunately for Asher, Brighton was already done with the situation, and moments later, the door to the mess clicked closed behind him, and the hall itself grew silent.
Emma didn't salute or say anything as Brighton walked off, but waited, staring until he had disappeared back inside the base. Then looking over towards Asher she angrily grumbled, "C'mon." Before walking off after Destiny.
"Fuckin' christ, does everyone who hasn't spent more than two weeks outside have a fuckin' stick up their ass?" growled Asher, shaking his head, after falling suit with Card and Briggs to the Infirmary.
As if to answer this question in perhaps the most intimate manner possible, the trio would enter the small infirmary to sight of one nurse removing a rectal thermometer- eliciting a whimper from the man leaning over an examination bed. "Oh, be quiet. Be glad I'm not... well, I suppose that wasn't very good a statement. I'm the only medical officer around."
She sighed. "And in any case, you're done here. Go along, now." She removed her gloves with a smart whip-crack- Lady loved that sound- and tossed them in a bin, and turned to face her new guests in the same motion. Lady Sumedha was clearly of Indian or Middle Eastern descent, though she spoke with only the slightest of an accent. Her ebon hair was pulled back tight and tucked away in a bun, leaving only a strand of bangs to rest against her cheek. Her brown eyes scanned them all, and she smiled slightly seeing Asher giving her a far more thorough look-over.
"What can I do for you three, hm?"
"Ah, juss' tell'm... Y'know, that I uh... I was here, y'know? Like, I am here, but you don't have t'do nothin', 'cause... y'know... I'm not really hurt." said Asher nervously, as the smell of cleansed air seeped into his nostrils. The sounds of medical equipment pervaded his ears, and the horrific sight of bone saws and needles painting his memories all over again. He had never had a good experience with a doctor.
"Westwood here has lacerations to the inside of his mouth, and his face, ma'am." Destiny answered for the short Surandanian, who seemed to be too scared to answer straight. Destiny rolled her eyes at the man, she had seen him stare down something deadlier than a hundred bombs, but here in the infirmary he was like a whimpy child.
"Also... Private Card here has to fill out an official report of the incident." She finished, Saluting the Doctor, and standing aside to allow the other two to properly enter the room.
Emma seemed to be glaring at the world in general at the moment and stepped farther into the infirmary. Looking over at Asher with a particularly pointed glare she turned back towards the Medical Officer. "Idiot bit down on a datapad while showing off, then fell and bruised the hell out of his face and chin."
Lady interrupted right then, raising a hand. "You don't need to tell me." Then she pointed with the same hand, beyond the waiting seats, toward the wall. There was a rack of forms. "Top left. That's what you need to complete." Then MO Sumedha nodded to Asher. "You. Bed." She pointed to the empty examination bed nearest her, then strode away to get a few things from a cabinet: rubbing alcohol, cotton balls, tweasers, and band-aids- even though she doubted the "tough guy" would accept them in the end. In any case, it was fun to fool with the soldiers with them. Then she closed the cabinet and turned to face them, watching the scene finish out.
"B-b-b-but!" Asher's eyes widened to the size of dinner plates.
Destiny grabbed Asher by the scruff of his neck and thrust him towards the exam table "Gosh dangit quit being a Pussy, Asher" the redhead complained, making sure he got there 'safely'. Having heard Card's falsified report of the incident, Destiny decided to grab an incident report for herself, and strode off that direction, leaving Asher alone with the Doctor.
She smiled faintly, seeing the stout man behaving so whimpishly. It wasn't the first time she'd seen a brawling big boy turned wuss in her office, and it certainly wouldn't be the last. Already, she was tuning out Destiny's and Card's voices so she could focus on Asher. The tools were brought to a small tin at the bedside.
Card cut Destiny off at the rack. "I'm not stupid enough to lie on the forms, and if you really want to you can watch as I write. Anyway, the bastard Brighton won't be satisfied unless the thing is in my handwriting." Getting the form down the officer went to a side table and sat, reading over all parts and scoffing at the ridiculousness of some of the questions. As she read Emma kicked another chair back enough so that Destiny could sit in it if she felt it was necessary.
Destiny did, in fact, sit down, and, despite what Card had told her, She began to fill out her own report. Destiny knew from training sessions and some of the classes on military procedure that she, too, was required to fill out a report, having witnessed the incident, and even if Card's report alone would satisfy Brighton, she knew there were others whom would want several accounts.
"Y-y-y-y... y'n-n-n-not g-g-gunna' s-saw nothin' of-ff, a-.. are ya?" said Asher, looking up at the woman in utter fear. He was actually shaking, knowing that he couldn't defy the whim of a medical professional. The Clan Doctor back on Surandan was a more practical sort. Minor wounds and injuries were answered with removal of limbs and brutesque amounts of body flesh. His worst experience was being cut across the bicep to 'bleed-out a cold'. "'C-ca-... cause I can walk it off!"
Lady's laugh was but a whisper. "Nothing is going to be cut off, I can assure you that Private Westwood. So long as you hold still, I won't even have to get the needle, hm? Sound good?" While he thought it over, the Medical Officer snagged a cotton ball, gave it a dip of alcohol, and began to clean up his face, drying it up with a second cloth as she went. Next came the tweasers. "I'm going to start pulling now, so you just sit tight." And maybe man up for thirty seconds. She almost giggled at her own thoughts, but it was suppressed with a smile.
The plastic shards came easily enough- thankfully it wasn't glass- and he was shrapnel free in a matter of minutes. The real question then arose. "Now then... staples or stitches?"
"Huh...?" went Asher, tilting his head. Surprising, that was much less painful and bloody than he had expected. Though, stiches and staples? This sort of medical terminology and radical, upward thinking was absolutely foreign to him. "Are we makin' somethin'? 'Cause I never learned how t'sew."
There was genuine laughter at that. "Very well: stitches. Don't you move." She returned in short time with the necessary paraphernalia. "It goes like this: I have to seal up your wounds, and they reserve the medigels for infield applications, so I get to use some very old-school practices. No need to worry, I'm very well versed. So I'm going to stitch up your larger gash, here," she tapped his right cheek with a gloved finger, "Then send you on your way. They'll dissolve in about a week, so no need for removal. The joys of modern meditech, hm?" It was clear that this Medical Officer enjoyed talking about her job.
"Sit tight." As she worked, Lady's first thought was that she could never really like a man such as Asher- men that cowered in the face of her work were all show and without substance. Despite the off-handed thoughts, Sumedha was focused, and was done in about as much time as it took to clean the rest of his face. That done, she had one final question. "How does it feel?"
"W-...wow! You didn' even cut nothin' off! You didn' even grab a bonesaw!" said Asher in incredulous surprise.
"What nonsense is that!? You were eating plastic, not cutting off limbs a la masochism!" This was genuine surprise as well; his prior comments were easy to dismiss as childishness, but this... "Where in the hell did you get such ideas?"
"Docta' Mekka..." Asher chilled at the mention of his name. "He didn't do things... as good as you did'm. I remembah, one fella got somethin' just like me. A grenade went off, and about four bits a shrapnel went inta' his cheek, like tha' plastic in mine. Docta' Mekka just cut out his cheek, n'slapped some weird synthetic shit on it." The young man shook his head, and went on. "Then, wh-when I wass' nine, I caught a cold from piddlin' around too long outside. N'Docta' Mekka strapped me down to tha' table, n'cut my arm open t'bleed out tha' cold!"
Lady had planted her elbow on the tin, and her cheek against her bloody right glove in order to listen to his story. In the end, she merely sighed and stood up, unaware of the small spatter of Asher's red stuff on her cheek. "Sounds like home was a lot of fun," she said with a contradictingly genuine smile. "In any case, you're good to go. Just don't go busting your face again, or I'll be pissed." At this she gave him a steady glare and in it Asher could see the gates of Hell, the only impediment to her wrath, banging around on a loose chain. Then, just as quick, she turned away, going to discard the refuse and clean what would be reused.
Now she turned to Private Emma Card. "How is that report?"
As she went through the form a look of greater and greater annoyance grew on Emma's face then once reaching a overly stupid question she began to curse out loud."Oh - for the love!" Tapping her pen against the table she frown and then looked up at Destiny, once again muttering curses at the damned form under her breath.
"You know that little cretin friend of yours favorite color don't you? For whatever reason the freakin' paper assumes its needed to describe what happened in an accident."
"Ma'am. You've taken the wrong form. That's the one for first time patients." Destiny answered Card, looking over at the paper her former superior had been filling out. "Incident reports were on the other side of the divider."
Crumpling up the paper she had been filling out without even bothering to look at what it had actually been for, Emma shoved the ball of paper into her pocket. Looking towards the rack again she squinted and found the document she needed and then got up to get it.
Sitting back down Card just stared at the document, not quite feeling ready to fill it out at the moment.
Destiny's pen scratched against the paper, as she filled out her own form swiftly. her writing wasn't exactly the best- she had practiced it very little on Surandan, but, it was legible, and that's all that mattered, the redhead tried to do her best to ignore the huffy Card, realizing that this woman probably had no idea of the kind of hell she and her compatriots had had to live through for so long.
"Excuse me, we have a recycling bin for that." She pointed to the blue bin just below the rack of forms, next to the trash can. "And the longer you linger, the less rest my bedpatient gets." She now gestured toward a closed curtain in the back right of the room, behind which all could guess was a cot.
"Dusty!" Asher yelled after Destiny, hopping off the bed, and hustling up to the woman who had guided them here. He pointed at his cheek excitedly as he approached her. "Check it out! Tha' docterin' here iss' great! They don't cut off y'legs or nothin! They just spray this magic shit on it, and sew it up wit' some weird ass twine and you're good as new!"
Her tone was turning more formal and downcast. "What did I just say, Private? Quiet!" It was a hiss, another sign that she meant it.
Emma got up and removed the paper ball from her pocket, she uncrumpled it and straightened it out to the best of her abilities and then picked up half of one of the neat stacks of paper in the recycling bin and placed the form down. She used the half she had picked up to keep the crumpled sheet in place before sitting back down.
Looking to the form she filled out the first line, which happened to be her name and rank and when she had labled it "Private Emma Card" her stomach turned sickly. Looking over her shoulder at the Medical Officer she tried her best to be polite, the woman was not responsible for her situation. "I'll have it done in a bit." Emma made sure her voice didn't carry after Sumedha's reaction to Asher's yelling.
"Asher, Shut up. None of this would be so exciting if you had just stayed with us like a sane person." Destiny hissed, staring daggers at the short pointy man. The pen in her finger twitched, and to Asher, it would suddenly resemble one of Destiny's perfectly balanced throwing knives.
"Sheesh, Dusty." Asher held up both hands, he threw a glance at the rather hate-throwing doctor before looking back to his old compatriot. "I'm talkin' 'bout tha' doctor in my old clan! He was neva' as good as this shit! How come you didn' tell me you had all this stuff?"
"I did. Numerous times. You always screamed and ran back to your stupid hotel." the redhead continued, quietly. "Now get over here, you need to fill out one of these too." Destiny stopped for a moment. "You do know how to write, right?" she asked, not entirely certain.
"Thass' bullshit all you eva' did wass' call me dumb f'livin' alone!" growled Asher. He looked over at the pad and snatched it from Destiny's hands and stole the pen away from her as well, and began to write furiously on the page. "Sheesh."
Lady, meanwhile, had washed her face and hands, dried them, and taken a seat on her wheeled stool, one knee crossed over the other, and her elbow on the table, cheek resting against her fist. She was listening, but only because there was little else to do, and watching because she hadn't her datapad present to keep her eyes preoccupied.
Destiny snatched the pad and pen back, and ogled the page. In the span of a few seconds, Asher had managed to soil the page with crude images that appeared to be pictures of her chest and posterior, and something that looked rather like a stick jammed in an anus.
Destiny growled. "Go get your OWN. And get me another one, while you're at it."
The Surandanian man stepped back over to the forms set at the racks and took a look at the labels on each. He grabbed the correct form, surprisingly, and picked one for himself and then one for Destiny.
The Medical Officer sighed at this latest turn of events. They were quickly becoming uninteresting and she wanted them gone. "Asher- right?- if you need help, bring the form here and I'll assist you." She rose, took a second to straighten her blouse and skirt, then offered her stool at the counter.
Emma spoke up. "He can read and write just fine, no need to bother yourself. The base here isn't that bad in who we take in, we would reject someone or send them elsewhere if they couldn't read or write." Returning to her form the officer absent-mindedly pulled out her fighting knife as she stared at the form and contemplated stabbing Brighton.
"Yeah, what she said." said Asher, getting a little agitated. He had just spent five hours on his hands, and another thirty minutes getting stabbing bits of plastic and electronics out of his face. He simply tossed the papers over at Destiny, letting them land on a desk next to her, and threw a pen at her. "I'll go ova' here, next Drill-Captain Card, since y'know, she's the most encouragin' one here." ho-humed the man as he stepped over to Emma, and slapped the paper down and began to write out in subtle agitation. He grumbled as he went, "Sheesh, iss' like I killed a puppy or somethin'..."
Destiny sighed, rolling her eyes once more, and began filling out the paper for the second time, this one still grafitti free. Her form occasionally made squeaking noises as she wrote away on it. In due time, it was completed, and she looked around. "Umm, Miss Sumedha, do you know to whom we're supposed to submit these reports?"
Turning to Destiny, Sumedha just about lost it. They had come in here and wasted time dawdling with paperwork, and now they were starting to behave the part of children. She sighed silently. "To me, Private Briggs. To me. Just hand them- to me- and I'll do all the rest. Just make sure to fill every field, and the rest is my work." She spoke very slowly and very softly, lest she begin to shout.
A Drill Sergeant once told Sumedha to change fields because, when she shouted it was so scary, "That if Satan hisself popped outta Hell that very second, I'd rather accept his offer of immortality in the Fiery Lake than lissen to [Lady] berate folks another second."
Asher threw Emma a side-long glance, before continuing to fill out his form. "So, boss, I guess y'not gunna' forget this."
Emma returned Asher's glance and put away her knife - for the moment - her thoughts taken away from the bloody murder of her superior. She almost nodded to the Surandanian's statement out of habit. Stopping herself she instead spoke back to the man. "Your mouth doing alright soldier?"
... That wasn't the response he had expected. Back on Surandan, the usual answer was 'YES GOD DAMN IT, COME HERE SO I CAN SQUEEZE YOUR HEAD OFF'. Shortly after that statement would be a fairly bloody brawl. Was this a trap? It had to be. Women did this sort of thing, to lull men into a false sense of security. Still, his mouth stung too much to really care about that. "Yes ma'am." was the sharp answer from Asher, before getting to the near bottom of his form, "I guess I gotta' expect this f'tha' rest a'my life, eh? Heh heh."
"Alright, alright." Destiny answered the medical officer, shaking her head at the hostility over such a simple question. The redhead got up from her seat and walked over to Sumedha, handing over the form. "It's all filled out. I would suggest destroying my first form, though, Asher can be... childish at times."
This time it was Emma's turn to be surprised, she looked over at Asher and couldn't quite believe the man expected to be treated this way by everyone and everywhere in the Terran military.
"You just stay the hell away from that fool Brighton and I'm sure you'll find the rest of your life will be quite pleasant. The man already burned away one squad, so I doubt you'll have to worry about him, they haven't given him a field job since then."
Noticing Asher was almost done Emma picked up her pen and attempted to hurry through the form, her letters were small and precise and she wrote down everything about the incident as accurately as possible.
"Duly noted, Miss Briggs," was the softer response from the Medical Officer as she set the incident report form aside. Lady wasn't one to carry a grudge for any reason, especially not something so small. Still, it was irksome that they couldn't complete such simple paperwork in an orderly and timely manner. Then she strode over to collect the others, expecting results quickly. "I don't imagine anyone will appreciate just how much time you've all spent here, especially on just one form for each of you. Hurry up now, as I also have other business to attend."
"I heard ya!" growled Asher, the pain his face acting up again. The Surandanian finished signing his form with what looked like a flourish. Finally, he snatched up the form and stepped over to the doctor. "I write slow." was his excuse, and the Doctor would see why. Asher's hand-writing wasn't normal, in fact, it looked more like a printed calligraphy. Each letter was neatly written, but most of it was abrupt in it's description with only the barest of details.
Sumedha nodded and slid this paper atop the one already received from Destiny. "Now go, you don't need to wait for Miss Card." It was more an order than a request, judging by the solemn tone of her voice.
Emma quickly stood up and offered her own report, she had filled out almost every space on the lines that had been provided and near the end the letters and had gotten closer and a bit messier but were still easily legible.
As she handed the form to the medical officer, Card actually managed some semblance of a smile. "No reason to keep you waiting on any of us, we'll be out of your hair as quick as possible."
"Not a problem. Watch that wound, Private Westwood." She gave him a warning with her eyes then turned to go review the trio of reports she'd been given.
"Sheesh, why's she always throwin' me tha' death glares? I mean, I know she needs n'excuse t'look, but damn." groaned Asher as he made his way out first, still unnerved by being inside of any sort of medical facility.
Destiny followed Asher out, noticing he was still on edge. The familiar eyeroll accompanied the short man's comment, and she punched him in the shoulder. "Just try to keep your ass in line next time, Asher. they teach us all this stuff so you don't have to come here very often.
"Hey, iss' not my fault that my Drill-Sergeant thinks jokes iss' a defiance of authority. Iss' like people ain't s'pposed t'laugh or nothin'!" said Asher, scratching his left cheek, the thankfully undamaged one.
As Emma walked out behind them she caught the tail end of the conversation. "Speaking of Drill-Sergeants mine has most likely taken over your group's training for the rest of the day. You'll both need to report to him." As she turned towards the command building she stopped one more time and turned to face the two. "Remind him the two of you need to be on light duty in case you're called in for clarification."
Her mind turning back to Brighton, Emma plucked at the hilt of her dagger, keeping it sheathed, but close at hand.
However, in between one of the plucks, the bladed implement vanished. When Emma looked for it, she found it in Destiny's hand. "I'm sorry ma'am, but we're technically the same rank right now, and I was ordered to escort you. Somehow, I think only trouble will come of you having this right now. I'll turn it into the quartermaster, you can get it back later."
Emma interrupted her, glaring at Destiny. "If you feel you must take it, do so, but if you so much as let that slug of a paper pusher touch it you'll find it at your neck when I get it back." Continue to walk, leaving them behind and having to catch up if they so wished, she continued towards the command building.
"Why couldn't ya just let her shank tha' guy? Everyone's all piddle-piddle and no griddle-griddle around 'ere." said Asher plainly as he watched Destiny swipe the knife from Drill-Captain(Private) Card. In honesty, he found it sexy, especially when done to another woman, but still. "If they juss' killed one a'notha' we wouldn't have t'deal wit tha' politics."
"Because, we're in a war of attrition, if you'd payed attention, and we need every person we can get. The more of these idiots there are back here means the more competent people we can have at the front." Destiny explained herself, twirling the blade in her fingers. it was rather off-balance, but she wasn't going to mess with it, it did not belong to her.
"Like I give a damn about tha' war we're in." groaned Asher, "I ain't got nothin' t' give a damn about."
"Why'd you sign up to fight in it, then?" destiny asked as a counter.
"Pssh..." the Surandanian took off in the other direction towards the barracks. "S'all I'm good at, s'all I'll eva' be good at. You said it y'self. Heh heh, I'm juss'a animal."
Destiny huffed, "Well, if you'd at least try, maybe we could make something meaningful out of you." she continued walking, realizing she was still in her PT gear, but her workout time was long since over. "I've got to go change back into my uniform, go tell the sarge for me, alright, Asher?"
"Sure thing, Dusty." replied Asher, waving a blistered hand at her, before finishing with a sigh, "Sure thing."
This is a space for in-character events that do not occur within the line of duty and/or did not fit into the "Daily Life" section as it played out. Threads herein are meant to supplement character development and flesh out the setting elements, but are not necessary to understanding the plot or characters involved. These events are to be considered canon unless otherwise noted.
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