Location: In orbit of Jutus
Speed: Standard Orbit
Shields: Nominal
Hull: Nominal
Systems: All Systems Nominal

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Posted on Thu Sep 17th, 2020 @ 11:11am by Captain Cornelius Tremble
Edited on on Thu Sep 17th, 2020 @ 1:20pm

Mission: Episode 10 - New Home, Same Pioneers
Location: Deck 4 Officer's quarters
Timeline: MD010 1830hrs
827 words - 2 OF Standard Post Measure

“Thraggling peacock,…” Neil muttered to himself as he viewed his holo image critically. Dressing for Jenn’s wedding was proving more difficult than donning the MARVEL-EAS was and he’d honestly almost rather be going into combat.

The uniform of the day was formal/dress. He wasn’t much for trying to pass himself off as a civilian, so he had turned dubiously to the mess dress uniform he’d had custom made on WayLong.

The FMC officer’s mess dress consisted of scarlet tunic with gold facings and silver/blue piping. The trousers were blue with scarlet officer’s stripes. He was shod in highly polished low quarter shoes and wore a white, marcella-front, banded collar shirt, the neck of which was covered by the tunic’s Prussian collar, which bore gold insignia panels.

The gold cumber bun, white gloves and decorations rounded out the outfit, mostly. The marine turned his eye to the remaining peaces of kit and he swore under his breath again, frowning.

The sword was what was hanging him up. He could wear it, but if he did, he’d have to wear a cover. His eyes flicked toward the starched white, oval officers hat with gold and scarlet braiding and gold FMC device. Neil picked the hat up by it’s polished leather visor and twisted it, checking that the strap buttons had remained untarnished and shook his head.

The strap and buttons were reminders of helmets worn by warriors. The same went for all of it. On really ancient battle fields, officers dressed colorfully so that they could be identified by their troops through the haze and din of warfare.

That had lasted longer than was reasonably healthy as war’s awful nature won past the pageantry some people put to it. The sword was another carryover…a sign of rank and privilege. But at least his was a functioning weapon.

Setting the hat down, he picked up the pyro saber and partially drew it from it’s scarlet and gold plated sheath. The basket guard was slightly fluted and swept back protecting the wielders hand. The hilt was scarlet wrapped with white cording and the pommel shaped into a simple acorn design. The single edged, slightly curved blade itself was hardened raindrop damascus pattern pyro steel with a blood groove and razors edge.

It had actually belonged to his grandfather and he’d first laid eyes on it when he’d took his commission. Un-surprisingly, his father had sent it to him without a word. Part of him wanted to wear it but he didn’t think that it really fit the mood. So, no weapon, no cover.

Neil replaced the sword and hat back into their places in the storage trunk and then picked up the boat cloak, glanced at it and shook his head.

Neil took another look at himself in the holo, checking that his decorations were squared up, then dismissed his image by walking through it and headed for the door.

His contact sensed his stride and the door auto-opened before before he reached the portal. In the hallway, he walked toward the lift and a timer appeared in his HUD. The system predicted his ETA by linking his normal walking stride with the Pioneer’s systems, even checking on the turbo-lift’s running time.

Neil smiled slightly as he widened his right eye and blinked, opening the sub-system for the lift. Technically, he could override it with his authorizations so he wouldn’t have to wait, but he wasn’t the Captain and wasn’t in that much of a hurry.

His mind strayed to Tallida. Had he been attending the wedding with her, things might be different. The diminutive counselor could usually only be on time if the deck was an actual clock face. Her leaving hurt still, but he was forcing himself to look at it more and more. Neil found that his time off was too quiet and he missed the companionship. They hadn’t been together very long but he found himself missing her face. Her smell. And, especially during sleep rotation, the ‘presence’ of her in the dark. The knowing that she was there had been comforting. Up until she’d decided, unconsciously or not, to put her cold feet on him.

That memory caused him to shake his head, dismissing the memories. It wouldn’t do to dwell. She was gone and not likely to return. And if she did, how would he deal with the basic fact that she just up and left with nary a word nor indication that what they’d had had meant anything to her.

As he entered the lift and found a place, he left the thought of her behind the closing tube door.

A post by;

Captain Cornelius Tremble
Marine Commanding Officer/Second Officer, USS Pioneer


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