The Long Voyage Home Continues

Joeyray's Bar
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I'm gonna bump this...
---[Natasha Kale]---

You can say that again... The words didn't quite form on her lips. Her mind began recounting all the nerve racking events of the day. There were too many to count.

Tasha instantly darted her eyes at Dan. Wait, you heard that, didn't you?

OOC: Lol... I waited four days to give you that. Sorry, man, I've been really busy and for some reason. Even when I'm sitting around writing I forget about this until all my writing energies are consumed.
I look at Natasha curiously when her eyes darted towards me.
"Is there something wrong?" I ask rather warily. Was she thinking that I was still reading her mind? Was she expecting me to still be reading her mind? I didn't know and I didn't want to take the chance of reading her mind then realizing that she didn't want me to.
I quickly take a drink of coffee trying to keep myself from making myself look like a nervous wreck.
{-left flank, they're breaking through! I repeat, we need rein-ah, no, no, AHHHHHH!!!!!!} The scream cut short with a wet squelch of teeth on flesh then the radio went dead, earning another curse from Calypso. There had been calls for reinforcements all across the board, the Zerg breaking through our lines no matter what we did. "Joseph, go to the western trenches, get what men out that you can." I give a curt salute and grab six other marines and make a bee line for the western trenches. Lord willing, there'd be someone left to save.

The trenches were still out of sight when we heard the sounds of Gauss rifles frantically trying to stem the tide and shouts of the marines calling targets and calling for aid. Rounding a corner, it was absolute hell. Most of the 26th Division was being routed with anyone too slow becoming lunch for hungry Zerg. Just as I was turning around to give the men orders, a Zergling leaps onto my back, knocking me to the ground. Hearing the six gauss rifles emptying their clips into the Zergling, I feel it's weight on my back as it drops dead. I barely stand up and turn around, rifle up, before being knocked over by another, hearing the sound of a Hydralisk spine killing one of the men I'd brough with me. I close my eyes as the xeno's teeth race towards my face.

I jolt awake with a blood curdling scream, sitting straight up with the feeling of the teeth finding my face still fresh in my memory along with the nightmare, the scar on my face burning as if it were new. Breathing heavily, I could feel the sheen of cold sweat on my body, hear the screams of the dying in my mind, never having a real moments peace until I had something to distract me from the memories and even then it was always lurking in the back ground.

Slowly getting out of the bed, I reach over and pour another glass of Brandy, drinking it and then looking at my armor. The CMC-330 was just as armored as any other suit of CMC armor, but that armor hadn't stopped the claws of the Zerglings from ripping my battle buddies apart, or the spines of the Hydralisks from turning them into pincushions. Letting out an unsteady sigh, I grab my pistol and hesitate, looking over the old C-150 with it's many modifications and letting a small smile pass my lips before frowning. Slowly it occurred to me that I'd been carrying the same weapons, my rifle, pistol and bowie knife, since I'd enlisted, and these very same weapons had been with me when Calypso died.

Hell, seems I'm doomed to keep remembering... Shaking my head in defeat, I place the pistol in my hip holster on my right side, enjoying the familiar weight of it against my side, and then grab my knife, sliding it into a sheath on my left thigh. Going over to the desk, I scrounge around until I find a blank patrol sheet and slide it into my pocket. Aerial patrols were just as important as shipboard ones, and I needed to set them up as soon as I could. As soon as I could being after breakfast.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, I rub my eyes to get the rest of the sleep out of my eyes and grab my boots, putting each one on and lacing it up at a pace quick enough that I'd be ready if we suddenly fell under attack but slow enough to be leisurely. Standing up and stretching, I head out into the halls for the mess hall. Wonder if we have some bacon at least...
Jamie and Chris sat in chairs opposite from one another, drinking from their own bottles of whiskey. They both stared at the window into the dark abyss beyond.

"That Gorgon was far too close. We almost died before the journey even started..."

"Ah. At least you were the pilot. You've driven in worse scenarios." Jamie takes a deep drink while Chris looks at him sourly.

"With far better equipped people on board. You said it yourself. We're just lucky that we don't have rats to chew on the things we call rations." He gave a sharp glare in response to the remark he knew that was rising that was rising in Jamie's throat. "We everything from civilians to experienced mercenaries on board, but with numbers smaller than the minimum required to have a fully functional ship. If you're going to say quality over quantity, than that's full of crap. We have neither. We probably don't even have trust. You saw everyone on board. Some of them were system natives. I'm worried that someone mental is going to lose it and start thinking that they're all spies. We're all sailing on dangerous sea on a barely holding ship called hope..."

He looks out back in the window, staring at the stars that were far beyond his reach. "Y'know, I always wondered why people would live here. Somewhere far away from home, the place that we all knew. But after awhile, you get to taste their version of freedom. It's sweet, but it has some ingredients that don't belong and make it bitter. Sure, I want to see home again. But it's not any better than this place."

Jamie watched Chris finish his current bottle with large gulps and open a new one, the scent of alcohol being refreshed around the table. His mood hasn't improved since he wanted to see him. He simply twirled his ponytail in his hands while he listened to Chris' drunken depression.

"I'm still wondering if the people that I know are still there, waiting for me. Or if they simply moved on with their lives and are slowing forgetting me. Either way, the Chris that left Earth died when the UED lost the war. I don't even know if I still can smile after all of this...... crap. There are so many bodies in my memories, and I fear that there will be more to mourn about. I think that I..........."

Jaime leaned over and took the bottle from his hand, waving in front of his face.

"You've had too much of this. Get some rest before your drunk mouth says something that it'll regret while it's sober."

After failing to respond with words, Chris submitted and walked off to get some sleep.

We need to get some progress, or else despair will grab another victim to mope with Chris....
---[Natasha Kale]---

Tasha drilled him, looking for answers in his nervous face. She was no mind reader, but he was teeming with anxiety. What the hell is this...

"Nothing... Let's go sit down."

Natasha grabbed a bottle of water before sitting with Dan. Her gaze fell to his cup of coffee and her lack thereof. Tasha's father loved coffee. He'd drink a pot a day. He loved his coffee in the morning more than a hug from his only daughter. Tasha never experienced the thought, but she grew a bitterness towards the drink because a bitterness had grown towards her father and everything about him.

"So... What do you want to talk about?" Tasha asked curiously. Her tone differentiated the sentence from being directed towards an old friend, to being directed towards a suspicious commanding officer with nothing better to do than talk with his inferiors.
"Well..." I pause for a few moments not sure what to discuss. I didn't know any thing about her, and from what I can recall from earlier she wasn't to keen on talking about her past.
"Well I would like to know more about you. That is if your feeling inclined to share those stories with me."
I say before taking another drink of my coffee and then setting the cup aside.
Chris doesn't get far.

{Christopher Wamer to the bridge, please.}
Walking down the semi-dark halls of the battlecruiser, I try to figure out what it would be like once we got home and how we would be received. Families would be happy we're alive, that's for sure, but...I shake my head, dispersing the thought before it could take a concrete form. The last thing I needed was to think about what our government might do to us.

Listening to the intercom, I can't help but frown slightly. I couldn't remember what his position was, but I also couldn't help but wonder why he'd be called to the bridge. Bah, it's none of my business anyways. Continuing down the hall, I start humming a little tune to myself, bobbing my head in rhythm with it. Reaching the mess hall, I continue humming, ignoring Dan and Natasha for the time being and looking over the menu and frowning. All we had was more sandwiches and soda or water. "Absolute bull..." Grabbing a BLT and a soda, I grab a seat where I could view the whole place and start eating, pulling out an old MP3 player and headphones and putting them in, playing the music that was on it.
Chris starts speaking a storm of gibberish as he walks to the bridge, finishing before he enters through the door.

"What'did ya need me for?"
Ian turns to him and studies him briefly. "I need you at the helm. We're getting out of here, now. Take your position and stand by to receive orders." Military efficiency, he thinks. That's what we need. Just a hint would be nice. Shifts, and that sort of thing. Not all... this.


Blast it, our Science Officer is nowhere to be found. I may have to use a minor character for this next bit.
Chris rubs his eyes, trying to rub the sleep out of his eyes.

Perhaps a bit of adrenaline is what I need.

He slowly finds his seat at the helm, cracking his knuckles.

"Not trying to be rude, but do we have another helmsman on board? Calling me on deck randomly isn't the best way to get this ship moving all the time? And don't we at least of some auto-pilot? Something like should be sufficient enough so I can get some time to keep myself content........."
"We've been out of dock for a matter of hours. For seventy-five percent of that time you have been left to yourself. Trust me, this lack of organization is irritating me just as much. I plan to make some serious changes around here, but first: bear 260.3562 over 15 and stand by for warp jump."

Ian activates the PA.

{All hands, brace for imminent jump. Repeat, brace for imminent jump.}
Sighing, I look at the rest of my sandwich and stand up, tossing the soda but taking it with me. Grabbing a safety bar in the hallway, I take another bite of my sandwich. Bloody hell...Well, guess I should go report to the Captain after this. While waiting for the jump, I tap a communication device in my ear and key it to the Medbay's frequency.

{Miss Sarah Wood, could you please pick up? This is Joseph.}
---[Sarah Wood]---

Sarah had been lying collapsed on a chair in the infirmary, hardly awake, thinking and dreaming about current events and possible futures. The warning of an imminent jump only awoke her out of her stupor enough to hear Joseph.

{Hmm? Joseph? What's going on?} She asked, leaning up and swallowing the pool of saliva in her mouth.

---[Natasha Kale]---

Tasha gave Dan an empty stare before inhaling deeply and looking around the room.

"Fine. What do you want to know?"
Taking another bite of my sandwich before replying, I chew quickly and swallow, nearly choking on a piece of lettuce. {Well, in case you missed, we're about to jump to warp. That aside, you got some free time later?}
"Initiate jump in - "

"Sir, I've got something here you might want to check out first." A young science officer spoke up agitatedly.

Ian turned to him, suppressing his irritation. "What is it?"

"Well... we've got something unusual on our hull."

Everyone is suddenly startled by the blaring of alarms.

Alert. Hostile object detected attached to our hull. Preparing damage report.

Ian grabs the officer's shoulder. "What in oblivion is that?"

Staring oddly at the readout, he clears his throat and responds. "Looks like a Viking to me, sir."
Hearing the alarms, I let out a loud curse and sprint for the Flight Chief's office, where my suit of CMC armor was and my rifle, sandwich in hand. {Sorry, Sarah, guess we'll have to wait on the answer to that.} Coming around the corner, I begin running a checklist of all our ships and sigh. Hope it's enough...for now anyways...

Opening a new channel to all the pilots, I speak loudly and with authority. {All pilots, suit up and report to your fighters. We'll remain on standby but be ready to launch at a moment's notice!}
I secure myself readying for the jump. Natasha really didn't seem to like this much.
"Well... I guess I would like to know why you joined up with the UPL military first off."

Before she could answer I practically jump at the sound of the alarm. Was it the traitor at work again or was it something else just as problematic.
I turn and bolt from the room after hearing the call from Joseph. {This is Stellara on my way to Flare.

I make my way to the armory to get my armor. "Well at least I have something to do." I grumble to the empty hall around me.

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