human
Gods, the ship looked like hell.
Maybe not the most polite way of talking about the ship, but there it was. There was clear marks on the outer hull that showed damage from micro meteorites, making it look like it had been out of proper dry dock for a long time. Which was true. It had been sitting in mothball, waiting to be melted down for a decade, but someone had decided to sell the shell off to a private industry. Now she was sailing out under the command of a freighter captain.
Still, it had the tight lines and sleek slopes of a military ship, a shadow and a ghost of her former glories. The Alliance might have it's faults, but it knew how to build a ship. This particular craft had been an experiment in seeing how small of a ship they could build with a fully functioning eezo core and still be combat worthy, a prototype line of corvettes, smaller than even the frigates, and requiring minimal crew. Well, really, if a person got creative with VI functions, you could run the entire ship from the command chair. It made it ideal for running fast cargo and keeping expenses down. Now called the MV Bluenose, by a captain that thought himself terribly clever, he'd been approached for a special kind of service, one that involved running very special cargo. The ship was called to serve as a Corsair vessel.
The captain himself was barely even present, simply ready to take the ship where it needed to go. Operational command belonged to the commissioned officer on board. Colonel Matthias Roan of the Systems Alliance Marine Corp wasn't the sort that most expected to see still serving on the lines. But when someone managed to rack up a service record like he had, opting to spend retirement in Corsair duty was something that a body was allowed to indulge in.
Roan was a big man, standing just over six feet tall and nearly five across at the shoulder. His frame was well muscled from a lot of years under heavy work and training. His brown hair was starting to go to gray now, but that still wasn't uncommon for a man his age. Being in his fifties put him past what many considered to be his prime, but the wonders of the modern medicine had him still fighting fit, and he moved with the same ease he had when he was half his age. Cool gray eyes were frequently in motion, taking in the lay of the room, some people thought it meant he wasn't paying attention to what was right in front of him, but it was all just a habit of a lifetime of conflict that had taught him to remain aware of the surroundings at all times.
His service record was long and not short on combat details. He'd fought in the First Contact War, the Skyllian Blitz, and near on every major engagement that the Alliance had been involved in over the years. He had something of a reputation, and promotions had helped him maintain his choice of assignments. But at the end of the day, while he could lead, and lead damned well, he was a soldier at heart. Most of his skills wound up being devoted to the simple act of getting a job done with boots on the ground. He paced along the small mess hall of the ship, feeling a little bit giddy. A corsair gig was a pretty nice assignment for someone like him, and he was supposed to be getting another trooper to support him, someone with some experience under their belt, which worked fine by him. A good two man strike team could get a lot done. He hadn't been told anything about the new member of his team, but that was also fine. Sometimes it was better to go in cold, see what kind of impression a person made without their history colouring your opinion.
Colonel? Sir? There's a request for permission to come aboard at the airlock. Codes check out. The captain pinged him over to comm. Right, on my way up. Let them in, and have the standard decontamination process. Should let me get there in time to greet them. Roan jogged to the stairs that led up to the CIC, a half smile on his face.
The airlock was humming as the decontamination process went on. The captain had gotten out of his chair, and was standing on one side of the airlock access. Roan stood on the other side. The captain was a smaller man, just barely over five feet, and maybe a undred and thirty pounds. He wasn't out of shape, but he was far from military trim. But he'd been a successful merchant captain for a decade, so Roan knew better than to underestimate him. The airlock hissed, finished it's process, and the doors opened to show their new arrival.
gpt
Patience was a prime virtue for a sniper. Of course that didnt mean patience translated everywhere. Kiras foot tapped impatiently, the boots making a dull click. A tiny hand rested on an ample, cocked hip. For an Alliance Marine she was small. Her dress uniform perfectly trimmed and fit to her lithe body. Ribbons decently place but a little askew from the sea bag on her back. Her fiery, curling hair was slicked and tamed back into a braided bun, barely visible beneath her cover. Behind her a massive, heavy case that housed her rifle and side arm along with all the needed tools and materials for repair.
Finally the door slid open and she could step into decontamination. The humming and whirring familiar. A slow process. Kira huffed some as she waited again. At least this was an alliance only operation. No Titians to deal with. She reached up and touched her face. Three shiny, pink, lines ran along her cheek bone. The damn space lizard had gotten her good. Shame about his arm though. No, not really. The Colonel would have the reports, of that she was sure. Unable to adapt was the official reprimand. A full drop in rank, brief confinement. Finally reassignment. Well good, shed rather fly around on some junker than try and play nicey nice diplomat with those lizards. Bunch of rigid, uptight assholes. The more rigid a society was the easier members broke and one of theirs broke hard. Kiras fist clenched, the memory no less painful even after nearly four years.
The Colonel would have had access to her records and she had been able to dig up some information on him as well. She had been a new, fairly raw recruit in the First Contact war. Just a lowly private, and electronics specialist. That was even before she had been selected to training as a sniper. Just an average grunt. Service and time saw her rise in the enlisted ranks. Several commendations, displayed proudly on her chest. A time of relative peace followed, peace as far as a Marine was concerned. Some quick, hard battles but no true war. Not since First Contact. Like many young, dumb Marines she had married early and had a son. Divorced early as well. Just like her following in the boot prints of her parents her son enlisted into the corp. He was lucky and found himself stationed to the citadel. Easy security work. Safe. So they thought. The rise of Commander Shepard was both bane and boon it seemed. She had once worked well enough with all the sentient peoples of the galaxy, Turians included. Right until one of their went rogue. The youngest Turian SPECTRE, Saren Arturis, ever attacked the Citadel and her son was lost. Kira struggled to get along with Turians ever since.
The doors slid open and she pushed down the frothing anger and sadness. She was met with a set of eyes and a broad chest. For a moment she blinked her wide, green eyes, glancing between the slightly portly man and the massive chest in-front of her. Slowly her round, lightly freckled face tilted back, looking the long way up towards an older, greying man. Who was she kidding? She was in her forties, she was old too. Even if she felt as nimble and spry as she did in her late twenties. It was easy to guess who was who. Even with the tightly packed, heavy bag on her back Kira snapped to and gave a sharp salute. "Gunnery Sergeant Kira Flynn reporting, sir." She was happy with herself she didn't fuck that up and call herself Master Sergeant even if the new, dropped rank stuck her tongue like peanut butter. Her voice still painfully high and girlish despite her years. The only thing that really indicated her more advanced years were the light crinkles around her eyes, mouth, and on her forehead.
Quick and abrupt as always she dropped the salute and reached out of a hard handshake. "An honor to be here," she said with a sharp nod. Of course it was less of that and more just delighted to be part of an all human crew. Honestly she might not mind an Asari or Salarian, hell she got along really well with the violent Krogan.
human
When the lock doors hissed open, Roan was looking almost right over the head of new arrival. He suppressed a smile. Short, lithe, he'd almost consider calling her a dainty thing if he thought he might survive the reprisal of that. He'd learned a long time ago that there were certain cracks you just didn't make to ladies in the corp. He'd seen more than a few teeth go flying when some of the more meatheaded marines had thought it might be funny to poke fun at the ladies in the ranks. Roan himself had long ago learned that less likely a lady looked like she'd be a amrine, the more dangerous she tended to be. So a short lady in dress blues was liable to be a handful and a half if he wasn't smart.
She carried herself very well, the faint lines on he told him that she wasn't likely to be any kind fo green, and that mattered a lot. He'd requested a verteran. Pulled a few strings back in the command ranks, what was left of them, to make sure of it, but the cost had been not having much say in exactly who he was going to get. When she snaped off a smart salute, Roan returned it, the movement not even registered. he's been doing it for so long, so much of his life, there were a few thigns that were just auto-pilot for him. He had to wonder at a marine who arrived for corsair detail in her dress blues. Making an impression? Possible, and if that had been the intent, it was working, for better and worse. "Colonel Matthias Roan, Sergeant. But I'm huessing you knew that already." He dropped the salute, adn took her outstretched hand. It was a firm grip, not crushing, but there was certainly pressure in it. Not a contest, but certainly an acknowledgement that he didn't plan on seeing her as anything less than a soldier.
"Good to have on board. Not sure about you, but I'm about ready to get back to basics and shoot some Godsdamned pirates and slavers instead of trying to fight giant mechanical space squids." He let go of her hand, and nodded. "Come on, I'll give you the dime tour. Cap, why don't you get us underway. It's a good four days to our first drop site." The captain nodded, not bothering to speak to anyone, but just heading back to his cockpit to get the ship flying.
Roan waved for Kira to follow him as he head down the corridor to the stairs that would take him from the CIC. "We'll swing by the crew quarters, and you've got your own space. We'll also need to get you out of that uniform." Roan paused a half beat realizing what he'd just said. "And into some civvies. We're off the books here, can't have us stomping around like we're real soldiers or anything." he added, giving a smile back at her. Not his best recovery, but he'd made worse ones.
gpt
Kira was glad to feel a firm handshake. It always seemed to depend on the officer. Many she had met, more so desk jockey types, had hand shakes like a dead fish. Colonel's handshake was firm and warm. She had a decently strong suspicion from that alone he wasn't about to baby of coddle her. Perhaps worse, look down on her for either being enlisted or her recent punitive measures. Of course she guessed and with ease. More like she knew since she had done her research when given this assignment. Sure the Corsairs were widely talked about but few seemed to know exactly what they did. Colonel's service record was easy enough to pull though. She may have lost a rank but they hadn't taken away her accesses.
"Glad to be aboard sir," she replied with a sharp nod as he waved for her to follow. "I'm just ready for Alliance concerned missions. I'm tired of nicey-nice diplomatic, intergalactic specie bullshit." If she wasn't sure they were an insane cult she was onboard with Cerberus' ideas of 'Mankind first.' It wasn't the most well looked upon outlook but she couldn't agree more with the notion. They had spent a lot of time playing diplomats. If they had bothered to fortify their holdings rather than assist and expand the loss of human life might not have been as drastic as it had been. Of course she had other reasons to harbor some hatred within her.
His accidental innuendo hardly seemed to phase her even as he corrected himself with a smile. His grin was only met with calm, uncaring eyes and relaxed lips. "I would prefer to be out of this monkey suit as well. Fine as they might look I would prefer a suit or comfortable clothes," she said with a small shrug. For a woman with lines around her eyes and mouth she certainly didn't smile much. Wrinkles indicative of someone who often laughed and smiled a lot. Her large cased clacked and banged as they headed down the stairs and towards her assigned quarters. A stateroom to herself was a bit of a surprise, a pleasant one at that. Even as a Master Sergeant she had shared a room with two other females.
Once they arrived at the stateroom Kira propped up her large case and looked at the Colonel once more. She had met her fair share of large, muscular men in the Corp but the Colonel really took the cake. Being her superior office aside he was one man she was decently certain she wouldn't want to mess with. Of course she had sparred with her fair share of meatheads and had come out the superior. Time would tell. "I'll meet you up in CIC after I change and drop this off to the armory sir? Take that dime tour?" Somehow both a question and yet simply telling him what she planned to do. Especially given she stepped into the room and let the door close. Quickly she disrobed but took care in finely folding and hanging up her uniform then went to her bag and unpacked the rest. It was a quick affair, she hadn't brought along much more than she needed. Clothes to work out in, her suits for missions, and comfortable clothes. Toiletries too, hygiene was strictly important.
Comfortably dressed in a pair of sweatpants and a hooded sweatshirt, both of which black with the Corp logo, and her fiery red hair let down from the bun and tied into a waist length braid she grabbed her case and headed to the armory. If it could be called that. A storage room on a merchant vessel, secured to house weaponry. Her rifle was her most precious possession and made doubly certain to lock it up. No one touched her damn gun but her. Not even for repairs. Satisfied that no one could lay their grubby paws on her weapon she headed up to CIC as she had told the Colonel she would. It felt oddly inappropriate to wander about so comfortably but if everything was off the books she was going to be comfortable damnit. Uniforms, gym clothes, or comfortable clothes she preferred to wear nothing else.
human
Roan wasn't one to really quibble overthe fine points of things. She wanted to change out of her dress blues, he'd accomodate her in that way. Prompt response to his comment. The fact she hadn't reacted to his slip of hte tongue did have him wondering about her a little. She was either humourless, which might make for a long tour, didn't want to call her new CO on the carpet, which was fair enough, or...well, those were really the only two things that really came to mind. He made the quick trip back up to the CIC, checking things out while he was there, making sure that everything was running smoothly.
Roan was double checking the Guardian system for the second time just to have something to do when he heard the door hiss open faintly. He stood from his check, and nodded to Kira by way of acknowledgement. In civvies she was almost a different person, she didn't quite have that level of severe edge that she'd born beofre. She didn't look soft, that was for damned sure, but it was a good change to see.
"Dime tour is pretty easy. CIC, we probably won't spend too much time in. I'm not much of an Ops man, prefer to have boots on the ground." he started, walking back tot eh door that would take them below again. "Staterooms, you've seen the relevant one for you. Only one head, but it's got a lock on it, so you've got your privacy. Armoury, such as it is, I assume you found by now. I wanted t have it rebuilt back into a proper armoury, but the captain disagreed. Still wants to have it a little mroe open and casul for when he goes back to hauling cargo instead of us. Central lift is there, we'll head to the bottom deck in a minute." Roan waved tot he closed door that would hold a lift large enough to carry several people at once, or some cargo.
"Past ehre we've got the mess, not a lot of room, but this ship was initially designed to have a crew of 14, so it might feel roomy enough with what we're running currently. There's instant food if you're in a hurry, but also some food in the fridge as well if you ever decide you want something that isn't reprocessed a dozen times. Captain cooks maybe once a week, and there's leftovers from that, so kee an eye out for that. Helps break up the monotony. Up there is the forward battery, the main gun. Not the most impressive thing ona ship this size, but at least we've got teeth enough to scare off the average idiot." Roan pointed as he spoke, mostly just filling the air. Things were set up fairly similar to most light frigates, just crammed down smaller. He led her to the lift.
The lift was as short ride to the lowest floor, and the door opened to show the cargo bay/landing bay. There was a bog standard shuttle on hand, looking to be battered adn well used, but if it was anything like the ship itself, then the exterior would be just window dressing for a solid enough ship. There was also a pair of small hover vehicles, looking very much like they might be a hovering motorcycle. There was a row of lockers along one wall.
"Aside from the armoury, there's ready lockers here if you want to keep your kit clkose at hand for deployment. There's a passable work bench in here to do any repairs or tweaks to your weapons or armour. Depending on the situation, we'll either deply from the shuttle, or take the bikes out. Do you have any training or certification on the M-22 Swoop?" He asked her. Not a lot of people bothered to try out riding a hover bike, but they could get excellent speeds, adn were usually mroe practivcal for quick recon and strike ops. Downside being that they didn't provide any protection like normal vehicles, and the speeds they hit were disquieting when one considered what would happen if a person fell off. They were also expensive to get an eezo core that small mounted.
gpt
Strange they outfitted a merchant vessel the way they did, even managing to put a CIC in it. Kira nodded some as her gestured around the room before they headed towards the few staterooms. A location she knew well enough having been there already. Honestly she was a little surprised there was only one head to be shared though she assumed the Skipper had to have a head attached to his own stateroom. Who knew really, it was a fairly small ship after all. She followed him to the armory, also already knowing the location, nodding some at him explanation. It made sense. "I don't blame him. If I were in his boots I'd do the same, less to change once he's released from service," she said with a halfhearted shrug as she followed him to the mess and galley.
Kira's eyebrows rose a little in mild surprise. Fend for yourself food? Honestly she was alright with that. "Honestly cooking sounds good." Her face softened a little as though there might be the threat of a grin but nothing more. "I hate shore duties but I do like being able to cook my own food. Never been on a ship with a free roam galley. Cooks are usually more defensive about their gallies than guarded outposts. I had a couple spatulas thrown at me as a Private." Again with the shadow of a grin which was more just a softening around the corners of her lips and eyes. Kira followed the Colonel to the lift and the short jaunt down a deck. As the door slid open she glanced around the large bay. Green eyes bounced between the three vehicles there. Lockers too. Even better, a work bench, perfect. "Guess I'll move my shit down here," she said with a nod to the lockers. Leave a little more room in her stateroom for, well, hoodies mostly.
His mention of the M-22 brought a small tilt to her head followed by a short shake in the negative. "Can't say I have, never really an opportunity to," she said as she walked over to the hover bikes. Of course she had heard of them but most commands she served at weren't exactly quick strikes. Usually far larger operations. Not to mention the potential risk. Marines were a little wild even with massive, slow equipment. She couldn't imagine the mischief the average marine would get to on one of those. "Guess that'll have to be a training point. Is there a manual for them, a qualification packet?" She leaned over one in mild interest. More than mild really. They might be metal death traps given the speeds they could reach but she couldn't deny she was a little excited to try one out. Back in her NCO days she had been known to drive rovers a little wildly.
human
"I think we've got some training manuals on hand. Here, let me check." Roan stepped to one of the folded the bikes and pressed a switch on it. The bike unfolded, blue jets of light coming from the bottom. It hummed and stuttered, sounding very much like a shuttle craft. Once extended, the bike looked to be a little over six feet long, and floated three feet off the ground. Roan opened s compartment on the side, showing htere was a cargo area, likely able to hold a few cubic feet of materials. He found a pad in it, and checked. Nodding, he shut the bike down, the unit folding up and settleing back to the ground. He handed the pad to Kira.
"That should tell you the ins and outs. If you want to kick the bike around the bay, go for it, just try not to push the speed up too far. These bikes are expensive, and replacements are hard to come by out here. Hell, they're going to hard to find most anywhere these days. Since...well, fuck, you know why." He shook his head. The whole Reaper war, if you could call it a war, had rocked everything to the core. Alost half the Mass Relays were damaged and on the fritz, making it hard to safely get anywhere. It'd get fixed, the Asari were on it, but it wasn't going to be fast. It wouldn't be done within Roan's lifetime. Hell, it wouldn't be done during the lifetime any living human, or even their children.
Roan gave himself a bit of a shake. He was starting to get a little prone to remembering randomly when not under fire. Probably due to his age. He knew he was only really middle aged, but hefeltold. He'd seen too much. Hed seen a lot of ground wars, and he'd seen too many worlds burn. Slaughter and butchering on a scale no one had even conceived of, it was still nightmare stuff. He shook his head again. It didn't take much apparently.
"I'l have us landed a fair ways back from our op when we get there. Give us a chance to put the bikes through some paces. Get good on this thing, and I imagine you'll find it useful if you have to redeploy mid op." Roan observed.