The Devil Dawg's spent the next 48 hours in the makeshift quarantine facility as the USS Nehalennia made it's way back to Summit and tied up at the dockside.
The crew of the submarine did their best to make the marines comfortable, streaming movies and books to the quarantine bay's monitors over the Nehalennia's data network, but the time passed at a crawl with every man and woman vainly trying to distract themselves from watching their fellows for the first signs of madness... Which never came.
Whatever disease had afflicted the crew of the Quantum Herald did not appear to have been carried back with them. 48 hours after the doors of the Quarantine bay had been sealed, they were hauled open by navy ratings, this time devoid of Hazmat suits, and the marines were allowed to walk out through the docking bay and into the sunlight of the Summit dockside.
Waiting for them on the concrete hard-standing was a young corporal with written deployment orders addressed to each marine:
DEPARTMENT OF THE NAVY
HEADQUARTERS, 1ST MARINE SPACE FORCE
ORDER 014-02
Jan 8th 2190
[Name and Rank of Marine], is hereby detached from service for the duration of 2 weeks for the purpose of Shore Leave. Following this period, you are directed and required to report aboard USS John Glenn no later than 0900 on Jan 22nd 2190 for redeployment orders.
Assigned To: 1 Platoon, E Company, 2nd Recon Battalion aka "The Devil Dawgs"
Purpose: Deployment in support of 1st MSF, 2nd Div, Task Force "Tacoma"
Number of Days: Indeterminate
Will Proceed Date: Jan 22nd 2190
Security Clearance: Secret
<Tag Everyone>
(OOC: Post here about your character's shore leave or anything you'd like to wrap up from this mission.)
Epilogue
- wargamerGM
- Global Moderator
- Posts: 27
- Joined: Tue Aug 03, 2021 5:17 pm
Epilogue
MGySgt John Abrams
1st MSF, 2nd Div, 1st Batt 30th MIR
Serial Number: A11/TQ1.95.60390E9
1st MSF, 2nd Div, 1st Batt 30th MIR
Serial Number: A11/TQ1.95.60390E9
Re: Epilogue
Henniger looked over at Paulson.
"I need a drink."
<tag Eyeball>
"I need a drink."
<tag Eyeball>
![Image](https://i.imgur.com/yCT50tR.png)
A11/TQ2.0.22146E1
U.S.S. Chimera
Recon Rifleman, Comtech electronics secondary
3rd FTL, Call Sign Devil Dawgs.
Armor and webbing
M41A Pulse Rifle + 7 mags
M40 Grenades x 10
Hand Welder
Service Pistol + 2 Mags
Mk. 1 Combat Knife
Rations/Water
Com-Tech Bypass Device
![Image](https://i.imgur.com/lkIdMW5.png)
![Image](https://i.imgur.com/fEMt8be.png)
![Image](https://i.imgur.com/yR8NvBt.png)
![Image](https://i.imgur.com/Zroc540.png)
![Image](https://i.imgur.com/A3ddb65.png)
![Image](https://i.imgur.com/Vizh0YJ.png)
![Image](https://i.imgur.com/dWaWQHW.jpg)
Re: Epilogue
Henniger called a squad huddle before Marines went their different directions.
"Hey guys, I know we got thrown together on-mission but solid work down there. Staff Sergeant Morse is a hard act to follow. I just want you both to know I appreciate your help, enjoy your libbo, I'm sure you'll be reassigned before we put our trash back on for the next Op. If you need me I'll either be on the beach, at the gym, or at a bar, my comm code is listed in the platoon system."
He gave them each a few bucks for drinks out of a faded utility pocket and headed to the barracks.
<tag Paulson/Davros>
The modern Marine Corps allowed Marines to go off duty in cammies and drink/carouse (the old timers that lectured at the various Boot Camps around the galaxy, usually it was an excuse for you to sleep with your eyes open, but they did mention that the old U.S. Marine Corps did not allow Marines to do anything off post in their work uniforms). So he just needed to grab a couple essentials from his locker before hitting the streets.
"Hey guys, I know we got thrown together on-mission but solid work down there. Staff Sergeant Morse is a hard act to follow. I just want you both to know I appreciate your help, enjoy your libbo, I'm sure you'll be reassigned before we put our trash back on for the next Op. If you need me I'll either be on the beach, at the gym, or at a bar, my comm code is listed in the platoon system."
He gave them each a few bucks for drinks out of a faded utility pocket and headed to the barracks.
<tag Paulson/Davros>
The modern Marine Corps allowed Marines to go off duty in cammies and drink/carouse (the old timers that lectured at the various Boot Camps around the galaxy, usually it was an excuse for you to sleep with your eyes open, but they did mention that the old U.S. Marine Corps did not allow Marines to do anything off post in their work uniforms). So he just needed to grab a couple essentials from his locker before hitting the streets.
![Image](https://i.imgur.com/yCT50tR.png)
A11/TQ2.0.22146E1
U.S.S. Chimera
Recon Rifleman, Comtech electronics secondary
3rd FTL, Call Sign Devil Dawgs.
Armor and webbing
M41A Pulse Rifle + 7 mags
M40 Grenades x 10
Hand Welder
Service Pistol + 2 Mags
Mk. 1 Combat Knife
Rations/Water
Com-Tech Bypass Device
![Image](https://i.imgur.com/lkIdMW5.png)
![Image](https://i.imgur.com/fEMt8be.png)
![Image](https://i.imgur.com/yR8NvBt.png)
![Image](https://i.imgur.com/Zroc540.png)
![Image](https://i.imgur.com/A3ddb65.png)
![Image](https://i.imgur.com/Vizh0YJ.png)
![Image](https://i.imgur.com/dWaWQHW.jpg)
- Corporal Hicks
- Major
- Posts: 1733
- Joined: Wed Apr 11, 2007 10:13 pm
- Location: Utica, Polaris System
- Contact:
Re: Epilogue
Sykes read the order. 2 weeks of shore leave. His people would start going soft.
Some of his marines had disobeyed orders. It was a small order and it was under intense pressure. But he had told them to keep the helmets on and Carlson had taken it off. And then he had gone nuts from some fucking bio weapon that should have never been there. He would have to find a way to get past it. More importantly, he would need to change his behavior. If marines thought they could disobey him than he would need to break them of that illusion. He had grown so used to the trustworthy Marines he was sent that he may have grown soft himself, or at least unwatchful. Sykes was not someone to be bested. He would find a solution and implement it.
What the hell was he going to do with two more weeks of shore leave? He knew he should enjoy it as it could be his last chance. He would need to find a girl.
As he packed away the last of his gear he lit the cigar he’d been chewing for some time now and puffed deliberately. He heard a locker slam nearby and saw Josh Henniger heading out. “Hey, Henniger, nice job down there. That was a rough one but you did your job well.” He meant it.
<Tag Henniger>
Some of his marines had disobeyed orders. It was a small order and it was under intense pressure. But he had told them to keep the helmets on and Carlson had taken it off. And then he had gone nuts from some fucking bio weapon that should have never been there. He would have to find a way to get past it. More importantly, he would need to change his behavior. If marines thought they could disobey him than he would need to break them of that illusion. He had grown so used to the trustworthy Marines he was sent that he may have grown soft himself, or at least unwatchful. Sykes was not someone to be bested. He would find a solution and implement it.
What the hell was he going to do with two more weeks of shore leave? He knew he should enjoy it as it could be his last chance. He would need to find a girl.
As he packed away the last of his gear he lit the cigar he’d been chewing for some time now and puffed deliberately. He heard a locker slam nearby and saw Josh Henniger heading out. “Hey, Henniger, nice job down there. That was a rough one but you did your job well.” He meant it.
<Tag Henniger>
![Image](https://i.imgur.com/miTMpGZ.png)
USCM Special Forces Recon Team
Serial Number: D26/TQ6.3.48412E9
![Image](https://i.imgur.com/lkIdMW5.png)
![Image](https://i.imgur.com/yR8NvBt.png)
![Image](https://i.imgur.com/oWO3Bgu.png)
![Image](https://i.imgur.com/fEMt8be.png)
![Image](https://i.imgur.com/Zroc540.png)
![Image](https://i.imgur.com/A3ddb65.png)
![Image](https://i.imgur.com/BH9XxiC.png)
![Image](https://i.imgur.com/QVq1A36.png)
![Image](https://i.imgur.com/e7eG5JE.png)
![Image](https://i.imgur.com/m88SsLy.png)
![Image](https://i.imgur.com/KaoUQvr.png)
![Image](https://i.imgur.com/SFHvKOG.png)
![Image](https://i.imgur.com/lGRzksV.png)
![Image](https://i.imgur.com/GZHkD5J.png)
![Image](https://i.imgur.com/cnYtzDd.png)
![Image](https://i.imgur.com/EWPfJ8s.png)
![Image](https://i.imgur.com/nDUpaXG.png)
![Image](https://i.imgur.com/Vizh0YJ.png)
![Image](https://i.imgur.com/dWaWQHW.jpg)
Re: Epilogue
"A drink? i think we need way more than one!"
Re: Epilogue
Henniger had nodded over his shoulder at Paulson as he made his way down the landing center passageway.
"I hear you there, ping me, I'll meet you wherever and we can try some more of that local stuff."
<tag Paulson>
Having made it back to barracks and finished digging around in his locker, Henniger looked up at the sound of his name. The sergeant major was puffing on a well-chewed cigar.
He drew himself up to parade rest, with his hands in the small of his back.
"Thank you Sergeant Major." He looked at his boots a moment then looked back up. "Carlson. Disregarded standing orders and broke quarantine. Then attacked others." He frowned. "It happened on my watch, what's with boots these days? Even back in the grunt strike teams that shit didn't fly."
He thought about his years out on the Rim in the infantry. Maybe the Corps needed to go back to seasoning privates on the line for a full hitch before assigning them to the sharp end units like Recon. One stupid, rookie mistake like cracking a suit seal had led a Marine to murder and fratricide. A senior NCO like the sergeant major would square that shit away rikky tick. The fact that the Marine in question had been assigned to Henniger sat sour.
"Guess it's time to keep the thumb pressed down sir."
<tag Sykes>
"I hear you there, ping me, I'll meet you wherever and we can try some more of that local stuff."
<tag Paulson>
Having made it back to barracks and finished digging around in his locker, Henniger looked up at the sound of his name. The sergeant major was puffing on a well-chewed cigar.
He drew himself up to parade rest, with his hands in the small of his back.
"Thank you Sergeant Major." He looked at his boots a moment then looked back up. "Carlson. Disregarded standing orders and broke quarantine. Then attacked others." He frowned. "It happened on my watch, what's with boots these days? Even back in the grunt strike teams that shit didn't fly."
He thought about his years out on the Rim in the infantry. Maybe the Corps needed to go back to seasoning privates on the line for a full hitch before assigning them to the sharp end units like Recon. One stupid, rookie mistake like cracking a suit seal had led a Marine to murder and fratricide. A senior NCO like the sergeant major would square that shit away rikky tick. The fact that the Marine in question had been assigned to Henniger sat sour.
"Guess it's time to keep the thumb pressed down sir."
<tag Sykes>
![Image](https://i.imgur.com/yCT50tR.png)
A11/TQ2.0.22146E1
U.S.S. Chimera
Recon Rifleman, Comtech electronics secondary
3rd FTL, Call Sign Devil Dawgs.
Armor and webbing
M41A Pulse Rifle + 7 mags
M40 Grenades x 10
Hand Welder
Service Pistol + 2 Mags
Mk. 1 Combat Knife
Rations/Water
Com-Tech Bypass Device
![Image](https://i.imgur.com/lkIdMW5.png)
![Image](https://i.imgur.com/fEMt8be.png)
![Image](https://i.imgur.com/yR8NvBt.png)
![Image](https://i.imgur.com/Zroc540.png)
![Image](https://i.imgur.com/A3ddb65.png)
![Image](https://i.imgur.com/Vizh0YJ.png)
![Image](https://i.imgur.com/dWaWQHW.jpg)
- lordstrand
- Private First Class
- Posts: 48
- Joined: Thu Sep 17, 2020 12:27 pm
Re: Epilogue
Quarantine had finally been lifted. Davros let out a giant sigh, he could finally stop pacing at the edge of the area like a lion in a cage. Small spaces and tight quarters with his fellow marines normally didn't bother him, but he didn't like the idea that they were stuck here with people watching them in case they "freaked out". After what seemed like an eternity with a hiss, the sealed door had been open and they were free to leave. He shuffled out of the quarantine area with the rest of the marines out into the sun light. Squinting against the natural light they disembarked for actual land. They were each handed new orders from a baby faced corporal who probably had never even seen the inside of an APC.
DEPARTMENT OF THE NAVY
HEADQUARTERS, 1ST MARINE SPACE FORCE
ORDER 014-02
Jan 8th 2190
[Name and Rank of Marine], is hereby detached from service for the duration of 2 weeks for the purpose of Shore Leave. Following this period, you are directed and required to report aboard USS John Glenn no later than 0900 on Jan 22nd 2190 for redeployment orders.
Assigned To: 1 Platoon, E Company, 2nd Recon Battalion aka "The Devil Dawgs"
Purpose: Deployment in support of 1st MSF, 2nd Div, Task Force "Tacoma"
Number of Days: Indeterminate
Will Proceed Date: Jan 22nd 2190
Security Clearance: Secret
"Woo Hoo more down time to hash through all the messed up shit that happened on this trip." He thought to himself.
Henniger mumbled something about needing a drink. And called his impromptu squad over for a light debriefing.
"Hey guys, I know we got thrown together on-mission but solid work down there. Staff Sergeant Morse is a hard act to follow. I just want you both to know I appreciate your help, enjoy your libbo, I'm sure you'll be reassigned before we put our trash back on for the next Op. If you need me I'll either be on the beach, at the gym, or at a bar, my comm code is listed in the platoon system."
Davros took the couple of bucks he was offered and shrugged. He had his own money but he wasn't about to turn down a free drink.
"I'll be on the beach if any of you all need me. Gonna see if I can hook a big one before we ship out again."
He went over to his locker, fishing shit still leaning against it, just like he left it. He sat down on the closest bench and lit a cigarette. He began to restring his rod, eyes squinting so the smoke wouldn't bother them as he worked. He looked at the lockers left from his now deceased colleagues. Their shit would soon be packed up into little boxes and sent off to mom and dad, or whomever waited at home for them. He ashed his smoke and fished out a large weight and hook from his tackle-box. He began tying them onto the line thinking about how those family members would react to the news. "God dam, maybe you do need that drink" said the little therapist in his head. Finally done with his prep he grabbed his stuff and headed out to the local town.
He almost shit himself at the local "bait" shop. Looking at all the different hooks and fake bait, counting the number of hooks in a pack vs. the cost of the package he decided to go with live bait instead. His dash of OCD just wouldn't let him go on the shitty deal of fake crap. He went to the coolers and pulled out a few cans of bait, and opened them one at a time to make sure things were still crawling around like they should. Everything hit the floor with a thud and a mess as he dropped them. The third can he opened definitely looked like a person squeezed down into a coffee can. He had to keep himself from throwing up, shaking his head violently back and forth. He noticed people looking at him and gave them the fakest smile he could. He bent down and started scooping up the crap he dropped seeing that it was just regular bait. He hurried to the counter and threw some money down, not even waiting for the change. "Just this thanks" He called behind him as he hurried out the door, trying to avoid eye contact and the stares of customers. He almost ran to the closest bar. Slamming some cash down on the bar "Whatever passes as a stout and whiskey." The bartender eyed him for a second but recognized the cut of a military man and shuffled away to get that drink. Davros was more or less staring a hole in the bar he barely noticed the hollow thud of the shot glass hitting the bar in front of him. With a small flouring the bartender filled it with a tan liquid and reached for the cash. Davros quickly grabbed the shot and dropped it with a kerplunk into the Stout. "Another Stout." He said as he slammed down the "car bomb." The second round he took his time to savor as the thoughts from the bait shop slowly fading from his mind. He made small talk with some local girls,inviting them down to where he'd be hiding on the beach and grilling later. If they showed up great, if not eh, silence is golden. He grabbed some beer to go and headed out for a little R&R along the shore with whomever wanted to join him.
DEPARTMENT OF THE NAVY
HEADQUARTERS, 1ST MARINE SPACE FORCE
ORDER 014-02
Jan 8th 2190
[Name and Rank of Marine], is hereby detached from service for the duration of 2 weeks for the purpose of Shore Leave. Following this period, you are directed and required to report aboard USS John Glenn no later than 0900 on Jan 22nd 2190 for redeployment orders.
Assigned To: 1 Platoon, E Company, 2nd Recon Battalion aka "The Devil Dawgs"
Purpose: Deployment in support of 1st MSF, 2nd Div, Task Force "Tacoma"
Number of Days: Indeterminate
Will Proceed Date: Jan 22nd 2190
Security Clearance: Secret
"Woo Hoo more down time to hash through all the messed up shit that happened on this trip." He thought to himself.
Henniger mumbled something about needing a drink. And called his impromptu squad over for a light debriefing.
"Hey guys, I know we got thrown together on-mission but solid work down there. Staff Sergeant Morse is a hard act to follow. I just want you both to know I appreciate your help, enjoy your libbo, I'm sure you'll be reassigned before we put our trash back on for the next Op. If you need me I'll either be on the beach, at the gym, or at a bar, my comm code is listed in the platoon system."
Davros took the couple of bucks he was offered and shrugged. He had his own money but he wasn't about to turn down a free drink.
"I'll be on the beach if any of you all need me. Gonna see if I can hook a big one before we ship out again."
He went over to his locker, fishing shit still leaning against it, just like he left it. He sat down on the closest bench and lit a cigarette. He began to restring his rod, eyes squinting so the smoke wouldn't bother them as he worked. He looked at the lockers left from his now deceased colleagues. Their shit would soon be packed up into little boxes and sent off to mom and dad, or whomever waited at home for them. He ashed his smoke and fished out a large weight and hook from his tackle-box. He began tying them onto the line thinking about how those family members would react to the news. "God dam, maybe you do need that drink" said the little therapist in his head. Finally done with his prep he grabbed his stuff and headed out to the local town.
He almost shit himself at the local "bait" shop. Looking at all the different hooks and fake bait, counting the number of hooks in a pack vs. the cost of the package he decided to go with live bait instead. His dash of OCD just wouldn't let him go on the shitty deal of fake crap. He went to the coolers and pulled out a few cans of bait, and opened them one at a time to make sure things were still crawling around like they should. Everything hit the floor with a thud and a mess as he dropped them. The third can he opened definitely looked like a person squeezed down into a coffee can. He had to keep himself from throwing up, shaking his head violently back and forth. He noticed people looking at him and gave them the fakest smile he could. He bent down and started scooping up the crap he dropped seeing that it was just regular bait. He hurried to the counter and threw some money down, not even waiting for the change. "Just this thanks" He called behind him as he hurried out the door, trying to avoid eye contact and the stares of customers. He almost ran to the closest bar. Slamming some cash down on the bar "Whatever passes as a stout and whiskey." The bartender eyed him for a second but recognized the cut of a military man and shuffled away to get that drink. Davros was more or less staring a hole in the bar he barely noticed the hollow thud of the shot glass hitting the bar in front of him. With a small flouring the bartender filled it with a tan liquid and reached for the cash. Davros quickly grabbed the shot and dropped it with a kerplunk into the Stout. "Another Stout." He said as he slammed down the "car bomb." The second round he took his time to savor as the thoughts from the bait shop slowly fading from his mind. He made small talk with some local girls,inviting them down to where he'd be hiding on the beach and grilling later. If they showed up great, if not eh, silence is golden. He grabbed some beer to go and headed out for a little R&R along the shore with whomever wanted to join him.
![Image](https://i.imgur.com/yCT50tR.png)
USCM Special Forces Recon Team
Serial Number: S35/TQ9.4.48100E2
![Image](https://i.imgur.com/dWaWQHW.jpg)