| Author | Message | ||
     BGen Jeremy Ironside |
Lieutenant Jeremy Ironside didn’t sleep much anymore. Not since Helios. He lay on his back on his bunk aboard the USS Tarawa, an article on the upcoming introduction of the new Phased Plasma Rifle, or PPR as they were calling it, on the PADD he was reading. It was an ambitious project, he thought. Though the power and versatility of the rifle was plain, the idea of using a primary weapon with actual ammunition as opposed to energy cells was non-traditional. Though, in practice, replacing this new weapon’s magazine probably wouldn’t be all that dissimilar from replacing a phaser rifle’s charge cell. There was the sound of feet on the deck in the quiet barracks. Most were asleep, the off-rotation marines having eaten and had leisure time in the hours before. Whoever was walking through the barracks stopped beside his bunk, his head hidden by the bunk above. He lowered the PADD and leaned to the side, looking up at his visitor. He was tall, taller than human average, but svelte – trim and muscled, but not as bulky as most of the marines his size. Some might even have called him skinny for a marine. His hair was close cropped, but obviously thinning at the top. Ironside postulated that he would likely have to shave his head fully within a few years to avoid odd look of a small hair patch on the top of his head. The man’s complexion was fairer than most. Pale as if he had just been shocked by something that caught him by surprise. Ironside gauged him to be about his own age, perhaps a few years number based on his features – until he looked the man in the eyes. These days, it took a lot to catch Ironside off guard, but the man’s gaze managed to. One moment they seemed to be normal, if empty, as if he was looking through Ironside like he wasn’t there – his mind elsewhere. The next they appeared to darken, the pupils and irises shifting to black with the murky beyond slowly shifting in a delicate and horrible dance that threatened to draw Ironside in and consume him. He blinked and shook his head. Lack of sleep must have been playing tricks on his eyes. He looked back at the man, whose eyes seemed to have returned to normal, “Yes?” The man extended another PADD towards Ironside. It confused him somewhat, as he was sure he hadn’t seen the man carrying a PADD when he walked up to his bunk. He accepted it. “2nd Lieutenant Stephen Gregg, reporting for duty sir.” The man responded. His voice was flat, without affect, much like Ironside’s own. But there was something off about it – as he spoke, Ironside thought he had heard the man’s voice before – perhaps even the same introduction. He again dismissed it, deciding to get some sleep as soon as this business was finished. “I wasn’t made aware of any transfer. On whose authorization?” Ironside questioned, looking the transfer form over. Everything seemed to be in order. “General Thrar, sir.” Gregg responded flatly. Ironside raised an eyebrow – it was certainly odd for a general to be authorizing the transfer of a simple second lieutenant. Then again, it put Ironside in a difficult position – he could confirm the order, but to do so would necessitate bugging a general well known for his impatience with bureaucratic duties. And he DID need a new second lieutenant. The last one turned out not to be…marine material, Ironside had discovered during the last operation. He made a couple of commands on the PADD, transferring the paperwork to his own database and marking Gregg’s personnel file for future review. “Very well, Lieutenant. Bunk M-six-four is vacant. You can consider that one yours. Grub is at 0530, morning routine at six. We’ll be putting down on Threadbare in six days to set up a beachhead for the seventh regiment so we can push the Son’a off the planet…. again. I suggest you familiarize yourself with the operation details before then.” “Thank you, Lieutenant.” Gregg said, then turned and moved to find his bunk, his footsteps fading into the dark barracks. Ironside watched him disappear, tossed his PADD under his mattress, and lay back down, closing his eyes and trying to get some sleep. Lieutenant Jeremy Ironside didn’t sleep much anymore. Not since Helios. |