Graduation Day

Archer Veillon didn't mind too much that the celebration was being cut short. He'd never been the festive type.

Training at the academy had been all about standing in a certain way, talking in a certain way, and walking in a certain way. He felt he hadn't really learned anything new or useful.
But he was excited to be going on a mission. That was something practical, something real.


"What kind of weird transmissions?" he asks in a direct and to-the-point way before remembering to add a "Sir"

Enzo waits patiently. He's learn the hard way that his wise-ass mouth gets him in trouble with the Colonel. He definitely didn't learn that lesson the first time. Or the fifth. But by this point in their training, he'd finally learned to shut up when the time was appropriate. At least, in front of the Colonel.

For now, though, he was intrigued by this mission. What was out there?

And hell, would this be his opportunity to get away from the DSF? Enzo never imagined it would be this soon in his career.

Athena strides past the jubilant crowd celebrating graduation. She scans the crowd with her piercing golden eyes, but there's no trace of joy or happiness on her face. She can't be bothered with the festive revelry that surrounds her, when her father still strongly opposes her decision to transfer to DSF to begin with. She feels an impatient restlessness that makes her long to be in the thick of the action. As she walks past the celebration and enters Colonel Edson’s office, she can't help but think that the real battle hasn't even begun yet. She longs to be in the thick of the action, taking on the challenges and dangers that lie ahead.

"Identify the source of the transmission, neutralize any possible threats. Be prepared for anything." She says. She turns around and scans the faces of her squad members, her gaze pausing a second on Enzo, like expecting him to come up with a flippant remark. Finally she turns back to the Colonel. "We won’t let you down, sir."

"Fuuuck," Enzo says, half to himself. Despite it all, his own mouth couldn't stop itself before it spoke. "I gotta procure an evidence kit, don't I?"

Richter was just doing his best to be unobtrusive. Chewing on a crayon, ultramarine colored, the most delicious one. Cleared his throat. "Huh-uh Commandant." He said by way of clearing himself of having to speak further.

Snapping a quick salute, almost as if he knew he was going to be dismissed before the Colonel did. Richter double times it to the quartermaster, wanting first pick of battle rattle. He spent a lot of time in the armory and knew where all the good pieces were mentally prepared to grab the best suit of armor as soon as he got cleared.

Quiet and observant, the tall woman with white hair files out of Colonel Edson's office and heads immediately to the hangar to meet up with their pilot, as so ordered.

As she leaves the office, Athena turns her attention to her squad members. "You know the drill. Check your equipment, make sure everything’s in working order. We can't afford any malfunctions in the field. Gear up and get ready to move out."

Athena stands in front of her locker, the bright light reflecting off her sharp features as she reached for her combat gear. She pulls out her combat knife, the blade glinting as it caught the light. With practiced ease, she straps it to her thigh, the weight of it a familiar comfort.

Next, she reaches for her pistol, a sleek black weapon that fits snugly in her hand. She checks the ammo, making sure it was fully loaded before sliding it into the holster at her hip. The pulse rifle is the last item she pulls from the locker, the weapon gleaming under the bright light. She runs her hand over its smooth surface, feeling the weight of it in her grip.

Athena checks her reflection in the mirror, adjusting the straps of her vest and the pouches on her belt. After making sure everything’s ready, she turns to the rest of her squad. "Luna is under Dominion protection. It’s our responsibility to ensure it stays that way. We’re the last ones to head out, so let’s make sure we do this right. Let’s move." She says, heading out, her combat boots thudding against the floor as she makes her way to the transport ship.

"Sir, yes, Sir!" Melena shouts while sharply saluting to the overeager young commander. She forces her face into a grim mask. All serious. All efficiant.
As AJ thuds away, she relaxes and finishes closing the last buckles. Melena can't help herself when it comes to teasing AJ. She respects the commanders capabilities having trained by her side, but her uptight demeanor is so tempting ... Also what is everybody so excited about? Weird transmissions - that does not seem too promising. She checks her arsenal and moves towards the hangar with the others.

Enzo gives a lazy salute and then moves with the squad, following their squad commander.

He straps on his combat armor, pistol, and combat knife. Then he grabs a heavy, reinforced briefcase and carries it out to the hanger. The portable lab was probably the thing he hated most as a field scientist - no, that wasn't quite true. The lab was actually somewhat decent - it was just the idea of having to actually carry it around that bothered him. Enzo sighed inwardly; he missed his real lab.

As they walked to the hanger, Enzo looked up into the sky, as if he could see his real lab out there, somewhere. He quickly snaps back out of as he almost bangs his head against a bulkhead. Being tall had its disadvantages, sometimes.

He doesn't know Archer thinks to himself at the Colonel's reply regarding the transmission. He had asked about the technical data of the signal. Frequency, pulse, patterns, static etc. That a signal was strange and unknown didn't mean there weren't many known things about it. It was just that the Colonel didn't know. The high-upss never did.
He wonders how AJ will be as a commander. She seemed competent enough.

Archer meticulously checked and double-checked his weapons and equipment. He had gotten a reject message for his request for a PDA. Stupid. He had said he needed one. So why didn't they issue him one?

Seeing everything else was in order he joined the squad for departure.

Richter had a pretty decent understanding of where the sight lines of the cameras in the Armory were. After signing for the cleanest Standard Armor Kit, he skirted the slight lines and entered Charlie Teams section of the armory. He figured a few misplaced magazines wouldn't be missed. Carefully he grabbed the ones he could reach without stepping into the camera's line of sight and tucked them away into his armors webbing.

Turning around he entered the armory and as Corporal Jackson gave a rousing motivational speech he busied himself feeding the extra magazines into the portable ammunition foundry. When her speech was over he clapped a few times and then pulled the foundry out of the armory with a hand truck. Where had he acquired it was anyone's guess.

The Ass Chewing from Tornado was expected, they had been lollygagging their way through the motions, so they deserved it. Still Richter couldn't help but wince as he remembered the adage "there are old pilots, there are bold pilots, there are no old bold pilots" and to his chagrin he found himself at the mercy of a bold pilot.

Still he was serving a life sentence, or a death sentence as a Dominon Marine. He mostly ignored the ass chewing and spent the time loading and securing the ammo foundry into the drop pod. The previous issuer had left a poem written in permanent marker on the front panel.

"Oh mama don't cry for me
I want to be a Dominion Space Marine
Where I'll make Humanity proud
My flag will be my funeral shroud
My rifle is my only friend
Kept me safe through hell and back again
Where the enemy stands I'll give what for
I bask in the glow of the rising war
Oh mama don't cry for me
I AM A DOMINON SPACE MARINE"

"That's touching."

"C'mon apes file in, we got work to do, the Corps ain't paying us by the hour!"

"Unwad your suit, we were told to get our shit first," Enzo snaps back, ducking his head as he enters in the ship.

He lugs the heavy Porta-Lab on board and snapping it into the holder, before buckling himself in to the uncomfortable DSF issues transportation seats.