NationStates Jolt Archive

The sky burned.

The shooting star rushed across the heavens, leaving a trail of stardust behind it. An explosion erupted from it, then another, hurling debris away. The star plummetted down, into the atmosphere. The corona reached for the earth, lanced down. There was a flash, and the light faded. Something had crashed.

A Week Later
"This jungle is hell." Alex Brenner stated, wiping his forehead. Behind him, one of the other excavators snorted in agreement. Brenner commented, "If it's not the crotch rot, its the damn bugs. If it's not the bugs, it's the razor grass. If it's not the razor grass..."

Nearby, two of the locals stood, resting on their cart as the Kaukolastani expedition worked. Jahiz turned to Caru and spoke in their native tongue, "What are they digging for?"

"Don't know. Some of that dark, shiny metal they told us not to touch."

"The stuff they bought from the jeweler? They called it "Uranium", I think."

"I hope they leave soon. They're disturbing the balance around here, even if they have nice trades."

Brenner moved the geiger counter over the scar in the ground. The forest had been burned away in this area from a recent incident, and the locals had already picked away most of the debris. Throughout the area, the ground was sectioned, and the remaining parts of the artifact were being collected. Soldiers stood around, nervous. The workers pulled up part of a curved lense. Brenner grimaced. "This is it." There was a sigh of relief. Ion Tether Satellite Five had come down last week, and Kaukolastan had been on the search ever since. Brenner stepped from the pit. "Okay, wrap it up, let's get this thing out of here before we piss off someone."

The soldiers watched the woods, nervously. The locals, too, were tense, their eyes darting about. Something wasn't right.

In the forest, Maris watched, his hand clutched to the foreign bought AK-47. He sneered a little as he spotted the Outlanders working around the Burned Land. My family lived here, before their thing fell. I will not let them escape. They have blood on their hands. He looked to his left. There were men of his clan, ready to fight. To his left, there were more. They had all lost family in that crash, and they lusted for vengeance. He flicked the safety off, and he pointed forward. "Now!" he bellowed, and he opened fire into the dig site.

Around the site, in a circle, the rebels opened fire, their AK-47s firing in snarling bursts. More than ten guards were targetted by the first volley, and they were cut down. Lt. Evans, at the HMMWVs, was leaning there when hell was released, sending several of his men dropping into the crater with sprays of blood. He dived behind the vehicle, swinging his M4 into position and spraying fire into the woods. He heard a series of thumps as his rounds hit something, but then fire was tracking on him, and he toppled backwards, his chest exploded. His body rolled down the crater and landed in the satellite polarization array, bursting into flames on the still hot chargers.

Pvt. Stacostis grabbed the M2 .50 caliber MG on the lead HMMWV, and he spun the turret into the woods, raking fire through the vegetation. The north arc fell silent, and he panned to the east. There was a flash of light, and an old RPG-7 smashed into the HMMWV, blasting it and Stacostis to shreds. As the red rain fell on the survivors, they ducked as more rockets crisscrossed the dig, the fwoosh of the RPGs followed by blasts of dirt and men.

Brenner panicked, ran for the silent north side. His steps pounded through the woods, and his breath rang in his chest. As he charged blindly forward, he heard a small snap. What was- his though was cut off as a board of spikes swung in, impaling him with a bloodcurling scream. The scientist fell back, his chest ripped to shreds. He toppled into the underbrush, his blood making a river to the site.

The local guides tried to escape, but they were bottled in by the vengeful rebels. They were cut down by their truck as the AK fire walked into the encampment.

In moments, the dig site was silent, but for the Rebels dragging bodies away and scavenging the Kaukolastani equipment. A fire was built, and the dead were burned. The wounded were executed, or chucked into the pyre alive, their screams curling upwards. The dig had been taken, and Maris had his revenge. But blood brings blood...

.:12 Hours Later:.
Chancellor Fenris lowered the satellite images, his face white. "Are you sure?"

ISA Director Kerrik nodded. "We've had problems with the Island of Geridan before, and that's why we never annexed them. They were content in their lives, and us in ours. Aside from some of our testing there, and that incident a few years back, we've had little. A local merchant told our man that this "Maris" is the cause, that our crashing satellite destroyed his village. He wanted vengeance."

Fenris snarled, "He'll get his damn vengeance! They've killed over fifty of our citizens and stolen a multi-billion dollar weapons system! I'll see them bleed for this!"

"Yes, sir. We anticipated as much, and we've brought stats on the island." one of the ISA Officers handed over a packet of data.

Fenris nodded. "Thank you, Director." he turned to Admiral Grav, General Cross, and General Salister, "Gentleman? I want that island taken, and this criminal brought to justice. How can we do this?"

Cross spoke for them. "We've been drawing up plans ourselves, and I think we have a good start..."

The village was bustling. It was almost noon, and the merchants were plying their wares for that "one last sale" before the market shut down for lunch. The young men were out, and the elders were sitting on their stoops. The children played ball in the dirt lane. A cart rolled past.

One of the children heard something, and he stopped. The ball rolled past him as he looked into the sky. "What is it?" one of his friends asked.

He just tipped his head and pointed. "What birds are those?"

The rumble was loud now, with a scream inside of it, that made the villagers wince. All eyes turned to the sky. Three squat forms carved through the air, diving on the village. From each of them, four ovals fell away, and the blocky flying things pulled up. The twelve cylinders tumbled down. The boy pointed in interest as the cylinders cracked.

Fire spilled forth, a rolling flame that consumed the thatch village without warning. The flmaes swept the children from the streets, immolated the markets, incinerated the elders. The fire erupted forth, a tidal wave of destruction that shattered the wood even as it combusted, then spilled into the woods. The docks exploded next, and the entire area was a pyre.

The three A-10 jets pulled away from the roiling, thunderous inferno. The lead pilot toggled his radio. "Napalm on target." They screamed away from the fire on the horizon. The woods were burning, now, and the fire was visible for miles. The smoke plume floated in the wind, and the jets returned home.

KNN Reports
"In response to the massacre of Kaukolastani scientific teams, Chancellor Fenris has deployed a portion of our military to deal with those responsible. Minister of Defense Darrin Vek had this to say:"
The slick haired, stylishly spectacled Secretary took the podium as cameras flashed. "We're here for several reasons. First of all, to get those responsible. Second, to end their backwards way of life. For two long, they've been starving under their primitive society. We can bring them a better life, and they know this. The main focus of our combat units will not be to fight, but to train the indigenous units to fight for themselves."

A reporter asked, "How long will this take?"

"Not long at all." Vek replied with his cinematic smile.
"Well, there you have it. We'll now list the deployed units..."

John Cravey was sitting in the fourth seat of the sweltering bus. He glanced over at the man sitting next to him. I think his name's Dave. "You nervous?" he asked.

The other man shrugged. "Not really. Whole family's military. Just doing my part."

Cravey nodded. "I guess." he chewed his gum a little harder. Six hours ago, I was at graduation. Now I'm on a one way bus to Ft. Eavesdale, and probably on to Geridan. "You think they'll send us over to Geridan?"

Dave shrugged again. "Pro'ly. It seems they're having problems over there. Not that the media would say that, but they keep deploying more and more."

The bus was passing through a gate, and MPs watched them tiredly. The bus rolled to a stop, and everyone fell silent. The doors opened, and a middle-aged man stepped on. He grimaced in pain as he saw the recruits, fixing each of them with a baleful stare. He turned to the driver. "This all? I've dropped tougher shit."

The driver tossed back, "Maybe two of 'em will work, Sarge."

The Sergeant snorted and barked at the recruits. "I'm Master Sergeant Grimes. I'll be your mother, father, priest, and demon from now on. I hope you're ready to go home, pukes, 'cause you ain't seen shit." he turned away, stepped off the bus. He called back, "And welcome to Ft. Eavesdale, ladies. Now get your asses in gear."

OOC: Now open as a character RP. Just make a character in the recruits, and follow as they get trained, deployed, and some may return.

debump

Darrin Vek,

Dodekistan mourns the loss of your scientific expededition. We abhore the loss of the lives of any of our allies, and demand justice on the barbaric people of Geridan.

At this time, our government is prepared to offer the ariel reconniassance and close air support cababilities of the 15th tactical fighter wing of the Dodekistan Air Force (F-71's and F/A-37's).

Additionally, we offer Dodekistans prisons, and if need be, its gallows, to any heathens Kaukolistan captures.

sincerely,

General Thomas Micah, DAF

A man of about twenty years exited the bus, slinging his duffel bag onto his shoulder with a smooth motion. The man was Mark Scotts. Scotts was about 6'0", and weighed around 190 lbs, with a lean, muscular build. He was possessed of hazel eyes and brown hair, which was longer than the military would have liked. Mark knew that a haircut was in order, and he dreaded it. Scotts wasn't a particularly vain individual, no more so than the next guy, but he had always been so proud of his neatly-trimmed hair...

OOC: That work?

OOC: Perfect. I'll wait for a few more entries, then kick off basic training.

"I didn't join the army for this!" moaned Slash. His full name was Hack en Slash. He clamied that it was because an old gypsy woman had read his destiny on his birth and declared him to be a true warrior, Jarl actually knew that Hack en Slash translated directly as "Rose Petal" in Slash's home dialect.

"If you didn't want to fight anyone then why did you join the army?" Jarl asked.

"It sounded like a really good career move, get fit, practical training, looks good on a C.V."

"Right up to the point where you have to run into a jungle and shoot strangers?" Jarl swung his bag beneath his arm and followed the other cadets out of the bus.

"I have a problem with killing people I haven't met yet."

Grimes head this, and with a sadistic smile, he tipped his hat against the glare. With a spit of his tobacco, he approached the recruit. "What was that, son? Did I just here you say that you couldn't perform your duty?"

In another group, Cravey heard this byplay. Crap.

OOC: More welcome.

Slash stood to attention, "Nosir, those were not my words, sir."

Darryl Garrison let a sigh out as he exited of the bus, he took a few steps then readjusted his bag. Darryl was nineteen, weighed around 175 and was about 6'1. He was average build. Noticing the bus was somewhat racial balanced, he didn't feel out of place, "Looks like I'm the only mulatto though" he thought. He heard Sargent Grimes question one of the guy's comments, which got him thinking about what he would inevitably have to trained to do.

Grimes tipped his head. "Well, maggot, it would have been true." he glanced back at the sun. "You have twenty minutes to get your shit into the bunks." he pointed to one of the squat buildings. "And then get over to the commons. We'll get you fitted and shaped for the first day of your lives. This ain't no summer camp, girls."

Scotts quickly arranged his belongings in a haphazard fashion, stuffing some things here, some there, looking more like a madman's organizational system than that of a military recruit.

After he made his bunk, with great difficulty, he sprinted over to the commons area, hoping to whatever diety that would listen that he wasn't late.

Running into the room, Cravey chucked his duffel over the bed. He yanked out his gear and left it strewn in a half-sorted pile. "Good enough!" he bolted for the door, careening into another charging recruit. He stumbled into the ground, and he saw a booted foot. He looked up, saw the glaring visage of Sgt. Grimes. "Aw, shit."

"That would be: 'Aw, shit, Sargeant', to you, maggot!" Grimes barked, kicking Cravey away.

Cravey flipped backwards, and crashed into the ground again. His time in high school track and field helped him, and he managed to regain his balance. He restrained his cry of pain to a mere "Oomph."

Grimes rolled his eyes. "Name, recruit?"

"John Cravey." he stated meekly.

"What the hell was that, boy?"

"John Cravey, Sargeant."

"Okay, then, maggot Cravy, you're the new patrol guide. You know what that means?"

"No, sargeant."

"You'll show them what not to do. If they fuck up, you get shit. If you fuck up, and you will, I'll beat the snot out of you."

"Yes, Sargeant." he muttered.

"What was that?"

"Yes, Sargeant!"

"Better. Now get your ass in gear, maggot."

OOC: Room for another?

OOC: Yep. Anyone can enter, up until deployment time.

bUmP

bUmP

Darryl got into line with the other recruits and did his best to stand at attention but his mind was racing. *Just don't mess up and you won't end up like that guy* he thought, he was nervous but he took deep breaths to slow down his heartbeat, it wasn't the Sargent that made him nervous, but it was a small part. It was the thoughts of being deployed to foreign land.

Darryl got into line with the other recruits and did his best to stand at attention but his mind was racing. *Just don't mess up and you won't end up like that guy* he thought, he was nervous but he took deep breaths to slow down his heartbeat, it wasn't the Sargent that made him nervous, but it was a small part. It was the thoughts of being deployed to foreign land.

"Are you pretty boys ready to take your first steps?" the Sarge pointed to the door. "Step in for crew cuts and BDUs. You get one set, so it better fit. If not, tough shit."

Cravey hurried into the room, determined not to be slow and incur Grimes's wrath. He stepped into a large barbershop, and a uniformed barber pointed to a seat. He dropped in, and immeadiately, the clippeds buzzed his head. His hair fell away, and it clipped his ear, drawing blood. The barber said nothing, just spun him around and gave him a shove for the door. He staggered into the next room, where they took a cursory measurement, handed him a stack of BDUs, and pointed to the lockers. "Change." a Corporal ordered.

With a swallow, he proceeded. What have I gotten into?

Slash stroked his scraggy beard thoughtfully, "So you think I'll have to shave it off?"

Jarl sighed as the que into the barbers inched slowly forwards, "Why don't you ask the sarge, I'm sure he'll be happy to help." The two of them looked across the room to where the sergeant was busy screaming something about, "Ramming these here scissors so far up your pansy ass your shit'll come out pre-shredded." To some random recruit.

Slash realistically analysed his chances, "Do you think if I shave it off in the next three minutes then he won't scalp me?"

"Maybe, it'll be a close call."

Darryl walked out of the barber shop, *Barber shop heh, if you want to call it that, more like a hair butcher shop*. With his BDUs and a dejected look on his face. His hair was cornrowed very neatly before, now it was gone totally. *I'm bald....Looks like I managed to say one thing too many to Sarge*. He emerged from change room in his BDUs on, he returned to the line with the other recruits and decided to keep quiet unless he absolutely needed to speak.

Standing outside the complex in his BDUs, Cravey looked about. No Sarge. Yay! He turned to one of the other recruits. "Hey. I'm John Cravey. You?"

bump

Darryl turned to John, slid his hand across his now bald head while replying "I'm Darryl Garrison, nice to meet someone who isn't gonna kill you with scissors or words. Did you volunteer or we're you drafted?"

Cravey shrugged, "Graduated High School... it's time for my compulsory service. I'm from Terenaus, my father is a mine foreman. You?"

"Pretty much the same deal, finished high school, but I volunteered 'cause I figured it would help with college, heh looks like I'm learning how not to flip out on Sarge. I'm from one of those small towns in Kaukolastan, one of the more western towns" replied Darryl

Cravey nodded, "Out on Artems Island then? The Agriculture sectors?"

"That's right, but I didn't live on a farm, thank goodness. I decided, along with counselors that army life would give me the balance and stability of a fulfilling life, blah blah etc etc." Changing the subject, Darryl asked "What's Terenaus like?"

Cravey grinned slightly, "Well, everything revolves around mining and shipping on the entire Sorobade Island. Terenaus coordinates it all, and the city is opulent as hell. Then the refineries extend for miles, and the mines beyond that. The city has shift whistles!" he laughed a little, thinkning about it. "I'm here for compulsory, but I think I might stay to get a college education and move into management. Foreman's pay is nice, but I want one of the mansions in the center of Terenaus."

"Wow, sounds impressive. How many people live there?" he asked "I've been in a few big cities and I must say, you guys got convenience galore. Us, we have to travel to another town sometimes just to get a new gadget. How are you with shooting guns?" He asked with a slight grin "I've shooting rifles and such since I was twelve."

"Okay, I guess... we've got the compulsory carry in Terenaus, so I know what I'm doing. Not to accurate though, mostly I had a defense pistol. Low caliber, high rate of fire, to deal with muggers and such." He shrugged. "Big cities ain't bad, but there's a lot of congest- Oh, shit! Sarge!"

Grimes rounded the corner, and Cravey shot to attention.

OOC: Room for a female recruit?

OOC: Room for a female recruit?
OOC: Of course. Kaukolastan is mixed service. Just so you know, femals are treated no different than male recruits, to cut back on logistics. The pull the same duties, bunk same, everything. Welcome.

Kenny casually made her way to the commons. She was short of stature, but that did little to take away from her confidence and resolve. If anything, it served as extra motivation to excel. At 5'4 and 120 lbs, she was a good head and shoulders below many of the other recruits. Though she could hold her own in any PT event. Her hair was in regs, and her BDU's neatly pressed. Nothing to do now, but wait.

Grimes made his way towards the gathered recruits, his rough features cut into a sadistic grin. "Now that we're all here, it's time for your first taste of this Camp. We're gonna run. We're gonna run until I say stop."

Someone asked, "How long is that, Sarge?"

Grimes scowled. "Boy, twenty push ups. Now! You do not question me!" he turned. "Cravey! Twenty push ups for letting him ask me that."

"What?"

"Aw, now it's thirty."

Cravey dropped next to the first man, doing his push ups. Grimes turned back to the recruits. "Any other questions?" he smiled weakly.

Kenny remained at attention, but watched from the corner of her vision as the man two people down from her dropped for 30 push-ups. Seems like the Sergeant had found his scape-goat already.

The young Argonian recruit, Sakt Morkath, approached the commons area. The young warrior stood at 6'4", and weighed around 200 lbs. This was common for those of the Morkath clan, they where ancestrally large and muscular. Sakt took his place in line with the other recruits. Sakt was not a mentally gifted individual, higher math and complex problem solving being a bit too much for him. He was articulate, and able to follow orders, and to perform moderatelly difficult tasks, such as field stripping a weapon...

*Man, being a scapegoat is gonna suck for that guy. I'ma make sure to not set him off.* Darryl was "encouraged" by the two recruits to follow instructions to his best abilities *Hopefully, my best is acceptable*

She hesitated a moment, glancing discreetly at the recruits on either side of her. Taking a deep breath, she dropped as well to complete thirty herself. Looking sideways, she smiled at Scapegoat.

Scotts remained at attention, doing his best to keep his mouth shut.

Sakt glances around in a confused fashion, then takes his place at the end of the formation, looking very out of place.

Cravey saw the one of the recruits, a woman. Name was... damn... He offered a weak smile in return, as if to say, "What the hell is this for?" then Sarge stepped on his back. "Oof!"

"Do I detect flirtateous behavior, boy?"

"No, Sar-"

"Good." Grimes turned to face the others. "Okay, now lets set off. Form up, follow me. Slackers will have to catch up. If you do not arrive in formation at any of the checkpoints... which only I know... you get to pull KP."

Sakt follows, moving with surprising speed for one of his size. His slit-pupil eyes stare straight ahead, as if ignoring all else but the feel of the wind and the impact of the earth against his large feet.

Kenny stood, and fell into formation as well. She was a bit surprized that the sergeant hadn't questioned her behavior, but oh well. Perhaps he already knew.

Grimes started at a jog, singing call and repeat songs rife with explicit lyrics and violent content, all while leading the recruits up a hill, into the woods. The pace gradually increased into a steady run, up muddy slopes and through stream beds. They continued without rest for two hours, until they reached a small ravine, crossed by a log. Grimes called back to single file, and, still running, took the log. At the other side, he waited.

The run had been tiring at times, but the jodies served well to take her mind off of it. Panting steadily, she pumped her arms to take some of the strain from her legs. She heard the sergeant call quick time, then at ease, then a column of files to cross the narrow log bridge. Obeying, she slowed to an out-of-step walk and waited for her element to fall into line, only to pick up a run on the bridge once more.

[OOC: Are they running on grass? Cause if you want to be technical and realistic, jodies don't do much here. Groups are not supposed to march or run in-step on a bridge, or on grass. This is for safety reasons, as well as reasons relating to physics...Of course it's your RP, your rules, but just in case you were interested...]

[OOC: Are they running on grass? Cause if you want to be technical and realistic, jodies don't do much here. Groups are not supposed to march or run in-step on a bridge, or on grass. This is for safety reasons, as well as reasons relating to physics...Of course it's your RP, your rules, but just in case you were interested...] They were on a path, and he stopped calling out at the bridge.

A tall, reed-thin man jogs along with the rest of the company. His eyes glint with an unmistakable fire - no doubt, Private Mark Johanson will be a dervish on the field.

His arms pumped, and his legs burned. His breathing, however, was steady, and he kept pace with the rest of the group. Pvt. Norm Gibbson JR, pushed himself hard. He fell in line as the unit crossed the log bridge, keeping his eyes straight.

Darryl was one of the last recruits to form up, he stayed back to offer some encouragement for the people who were falling behind. He felt that it was one of the things he could do to help, as he was a caring person, sometimes overly. He was sure that he could pass everyone and impress Sarge, but that wasn't his style.

OOC: What does Grimes look like? I keep picturing Sgt Hartman from Full Metal Jacket, voice and all.

OOC: What does Grimes look like? I keep picturing Sgt Hartman from Full Metal Jacket, voice and all.
OOC: You got it 8)

Kerril Suncaller sat alone in the bus jouncing into the Kaukolastani base. Dark eyes under an epicanthic fold focused inward in a brooding mixture of anger, despair, and hope. She had no other choice, really, after Tirthanka. No Security Company in Effrenata would take her, in spite of a previously distinguished service record. The cock-up in the Tirthanki temple had been too costly. Her choice was to return to civilian life (and do what? she asked herself bitterly… Herd goats on her family’s ranch in Upper Vilpar? Hardly…) or take service somewhere else.

The brouhaha boiling over in Kaukolastan looked like as good a way to get the hell out of the Confederacy as any. The recruiter had been friendly, but she knew recruiters. And she knew these bushjungle actions. They chewed up troops like candy. Cannon fodder welcome. Play by the local rules, no swanky merc contract guaranteed, with the muscle of an Effrenati security corporation to back it up. She was on her own. She had nothing to prove to anyone, except herself.

The bus pulled to a halt. The driver glanced curiously at the dark-complected Palayatan, in the well-worn but clean coverall, as she had gotten out. Not a word out of her, the whole drive. Foreigner. A little older than the usual recruit, but looked plenty fit. Oh, well. He’d never see her again.

A Corporal pointed her to the recruit depot, and ten minutes later she was in BDUs. She was medium-size in everything, a trifle stocky for a woman, a comfortable 5’8”, so they fit well enough. They hadn’t had to do more than run the clipper symbolically over her already-shaved head. A shaved head was a sign of disgrace among the Palayata, but they didn’t know that, here. She wouldn’t stand out.

A company sergeant grinned a trifle nastily at her as she emerged: “Hey, puke! Your company is over THAT way. Go find ‘em! Better run, your sergeant doesn’t like laggers. And watch out for the hot firing ranges on the way.” A broad gesture of his arm sent her down a path worn by countless jogging feet.

Swinging into a distance-eating lope, Kerril headed out.

Sakt Morkath moved with the practiced speed of a hunter, slowing down a bit as his large stride began to overtake most of the others. His breath came in normal puffs, the exertion of the run seemingly had no effect on the large reptile.

*bump*

[Someone do something.]

Private Scotts stumbed over a loose patch of gravel, but managed to catch himself with his hands as he fell. The small stones tore flesh from his hands, but it was better than landing on his face. Scotts heaved himself up, and rejoined the group. He'd been on the track team in highschool, but was never good enough for the varsity...

Private Scotts stumbed over a loose patch of gravel, but managed to catch himself with his hands as he fell. The small stones tore flesh from his hands, but it was better than landing on his face. Scotts heaved himself up, and rejoined the group. He'd been on the track team in highschool, but was never good enough for the varsity...

Private Scotts probably got a glimpse pf something down there where the gravel came from.
Some old form of an ancient evil? Could they be hunting for disaster?
Or is the glory of the neverending holy gral of civilization just arounfd the corner.
Clutching his AK-47 even tighter he rose, stumbling further into the woods.

OOC: ....?? Borgolan, what exactly are you trying to say, cuz honestly, I have no clue :? and no one has any weapons anyway...I'm confused

Private Scotts stumbed over a loose patch of gravel, but managed to catch himself with his hands as he fell. The small stones tore flesh from his hands, but it was better than landing on his face. Scotts heaved himself up, and rejoined the group. He'd been on the track team in highschool, but was never good enough for the varsity...

Kenny looked down as a man near her tripped on the unstable footing, and slowed to help him up. However he beat her to the punch, and continued the run stoically. Lucky he didn't get hurt she mused, and focused once more on the ground ahead. Her boots were getting heavy, and she was beginning to wonder when they'd be done.

Cravey followed with the rest, and Grimes led ever onward. This has to end soon!

The strain of the run was very slowly creeping into Darryl. His feet felt like they've been trampled, his calves burned and his chest felt like it was going to cave from all the heavy breathing. His mind was trying it's best not to let the body give up, so Darryl steeled his resolve and pressed on.

As she reached the top of a slight rise in the ground, Kerril caught a glimpse of the rest of the company, across the next declivity where the path turned gravelly and uneven. They were still a considerable distance ahead, but she was closing the gap slowly and steadily.

Sakt continues with his steady, almost speedy pace. He seems to ignore all else around him. If this is a product of his low IQ, or some sort of Argonian running technique, no one seems to know, presumeably not even Sakt...

OOC: These thread-spoling bastards are showing up everywhere these days. Just fire a handy-dandy-nifty-shifty IGNORE Missile at him. Fun, eh?

This was it, Grimes' favorite part of the "Cherry Run" as he called it. He caled out, "Halt!" The recruits gathered around, and Grimes glanced at the now settled sun, "Now, in your breast pocket of your BDUs, you will find a C-Ration and there is a canteen on your hip. Now, we will keep running until I decide-" Of course, he knew how long this run was, and that there were medical HMMWVs on standby in case of anything, but they didn't know either, "-and until that time, you have this Ration and this canteen to provide for yourself. You can eat and drink whenever you want, but choose wisely. East to early, and you'll burn out. Eat to late, and it will be pointless. So, good luck, and let's keep going.

Seemingly oblivious to the strains, the older Master Sergeant began to jog. In the line, Cravey glanced at his ration. If I learned one thing in the mines... He turned to those around him. "Eat when he does." he whispered.

He turned to those around him. "Eat when he does." he whispered.

"Sounds like a sound plan," Kenny responded and took up a jog once more. She took a small sip of the water for preventative hydration and willed her stomach to believe it was full. This was turning out to be a damn long first day...

As she settled in for the long haul in a steady, distance-devouring lope, slowly gaining on the rest of the company, Kerril felt in the pocket of her BDUs. Felt like.... yep, a C-Ration. Nummy. It could wait.

She was maybe 150-175 meters behind the company now, but she couldn't tell for sure, because the terrain masked them again. No mind. By now she could have tracked them blindfolded in a blizzard, they left such a clear trail.

She paid attention to her running for a minute or so. Time to vary the pace. She dropped to a slow trot for about 200 meters, to give her muscles a rest. It would widen the gap, but she could pick up the slack on the other end with a short sprint if the terrain allowed.

Sakt, struggling to open his canteen, rips the gasket off with his teeth and takes a quick swallow. His slow, reptillian metabolisum prevented him from feeling too hungry, at least for several more hours.

Very slowly the advice that Cravey gave went down the line of recruits when it got to Darryl, he told everyone, well tried to, he had to take a sip first in order to talk. After the little sip from the canteen, he told the person next to him pass along "Eat when he does". Hopefully, it wouldn't turn into a game of telephone where it would end up something like "Eat hen the buzz".

When she caught sight of the company again, they were closer than she expected. They must have stopped or slowed for a few moments. Only about 100 meters separated her from them now, and they were jogging fairly slowly. She hadn't quite hit her distance wind yet, but the variation in pace had refreshed her muscles.

She built up speed, steadily, closing the gap. As she drew abreast of the end recruit, she slowed again, insinuating herself into the rear third of the company and matching pace. A few recruits ahead of her, a young man turned his head and said something over his shoulder to the man behind him. That man in turn looked around and spoke to the next one in line.

Finally the young man in front of her turned his head, looked a little confused for a moment to see a new face, and then muttered "Eat... (pant) when the Sergeant (huff-huff) eats.... Pass it on... "

The corner of Kerril's mouth quirked. She repressed a grin sternly, and turned her head to speak to the next one in line. "Eat when the Sergeant does... pass it on..."

As she settled into the pace the others were setting, she stretched her shoulders and upper body a little, changing the angle of her arms to keep the blood flow moving smoothly.

In the head of the line, Grimes kept his steady jog. He calculated the time. By now, the early eaters were beginning to regret eating it. He reached into his BDUs, popped the ration without expression. Behind him, there was a flurry of motion. In the corner of his eye, he caught Cravey popping his ration as well, and then a sequence of others. Grimes didn't react at all, but if they had known the man, they would have seen the approving glint in his harsh eyes. But they didn't, and Grimes took a swig of water and pressed on.

OOC: Run's almost over.

Kenny had been keeping half an eye on the sergeant. Now with his unspoken approval, she fumbled with the ration in her pocket and bit a piece off ravenously. Hungry though she may be, she would not allow herself to wolf the entire thing. That was a sure-fire way to aquire a stomach ache. Instead, she took small pieces at a time until the somewhat meager ration was gone. No one near her had decided to eat earlier, so she would not have to worry about sharing. She took another pull at the canteen, and glanced at the recruits near her to make sure everyone was alright. They looked tired and on the verge of exhaustion, but would still be alright for the time being. Having gained her fourth wind, she forced steady breathing and continued on.

Scotts downed half of his canteen, letting his mouth get a bit wet before he tore into his ration. Again, he left half of it for later.

A ripple of C-ration packs popping made its way down the line toward Kerril. With a shrug, she popped her own. She wasn't quite to the level of blood sugar depletion that would make it necessary, but getting close. And a drink would be welcome.

Automatically, she stuffed the empty ration pack back in her pocket, and let her running stride shorten and quicken-- another way to rest the muscles, which were definitely asking "Huh?" by now. It had been too long since she'd run distance, but the next few weeks would hone her back up again.

After a couple hundred short/quick strides, she eased back into a more natural pace. Felt good. She had distance wind, now.

Sakt swallowed his ration quickly, his large chest rising and falling a bit quicker than normal. The bottoms of his large, reptillian feet where beginning to get hot. Sakt had never run on asphalt before...

OOC: He's not wearing boots because his feet are quite large, and shaped differently than a human's.

Hours had passed, and Grimes brought them around another bend... and the Fort was before them. "Welcome back, Maggots." Grimes stated. "Rest up, 'cause revellie is at 0500! Dismissed!"

Cravey was never so glad to see the sparse bunks. Shoving his gear out of the way, he dropped onto his bed. "I'll put it away later." he collapsed, already asleep.

Kenny felt like she would collapse any moment, but refused to show it. The bunks were a welcome sight. Wearily, she forced herself to put away all her gear before climbing into bed.
"I would advise putting your stuff away before turning in. Just a suggestion. Who needs help?"
She addressed the surrounding area in general. If there was one thing she'd learned from Camp back home, they succeeded as a team, or lost as a team. There was no room for individuals here. She wouldn't go to sleep until everyone else seemed to be in good shape.

By this time acutely aware of just how much edge she'd lost, Kerril knew that to give in to the weariness now without making a small investment in tomorrow's comfort would be a considerable mistake. As the friendly young woman passed her bunk, calling out an offer to help the other recruits, she simply shook her head, but smiled.

She did a careful cool-and-stretch group of isometrics, and then put her footlocker in order, folding everything in precise arrangement. She had no idea what the local preferences were in regards to kit inspections, but she'd at least be able to find everything quickly in the inevitable confusion of a first morning's revielle.

In loose undershorts and knit undershirt, she padded into the bathroom to brush teeth and take a leak, and purify herself. Since the Kaukolastani military was fully integrated, there was an adequate parity of latrine facilities, thanks to a merciful Allah.

Back in the narrow space between bunks, she checked her compass. Using her towel for a prayer rug, she quietly caught up on the devotions she'd missed on during the training run. Allah was infinitely understanding, but she was fighting off sleep throughout.

Finally, she tucked her alarm under her pillow to wake her at 4:45 for morning prayers, and rolled into the bunk and oblivion.

The run had finally caught up with him. His muscles ached, even muscles that he didn't know about ached. Forcing himself to take a few deep breathes to help steady his body and put away his gear. After putting away his gear as best as he could, Darryl went to his bunk and made himself as cozy as possible and drifted to sleep.

Sakt manages to wedge his large frame into a bottom bunk, the burn in his legs would hopefully subside with the coming of dawn.

Darryl was standing in a green meadow with rolling hills all around. A gentle breeze was in the air, he could hear but couldn't feel it. For some reason, a road had just appeared a few feet from him, very quickly the scene changed to a busy street in a major city. None of these changes frightened him or even make him curious enough to question the changes. He decided to try something as the people at the crosswalk waited for the green hand, he decided to put a large tree in the way of the walkers, all they did was walk around it, not even stopping to give it a second look. As quickly as the street was there, it changed to an enveloping black.

Darryl blinked a few times and the world slowly came into focus, he was staring at the ceiling, as the realization slowly came to him that this is reality, he checked the clock *0415* "Great, back to the world of the living. Might as well just look at the ceiling until revellie" he whispered to himself, his voice feeling out of place in the silence.

Scotts downs an extra canteen of water before hitting the sack... the body's natural course of function would add an extra incentive for him to get up the next morning...