NationStates Jolt Archive

OOC: For purposes of NS-ish-ness, SGC will be in some remote Tarlachian location, since MS is mostly a giant dustbowl of a desert patrolled by crazy bastards on four-wheelers with automatic weapons.

If you've signed up, jump in at anytime. If not, you're SOL.

SGC will be the hub area from which other threads (different topics entirely for the sake of sanity) will be launched. Thread topics will bear the name of the mission.

As a side note, Dekker Bray (MS' character) has an R-rated mouth, probably due to his time as a Marine. If anyone is offended by this, I'll start censoring his speech.

IC:
Eletric current sizzled through the circuit breakers, reaching its final destination in under a second: The massive ring known as the 'Star-Gate'. A sizeable splash reached out from the center of the anchient circle, sending techs & military police jumping back in alarm. The splash receeded back into the ring, leaving a vertical puddle behind...

"General... Uh... Look..."

Sputtered a technical expert from his chair in the observation deck, to the uniformed man to his right, unable to find better words to express his amazement...

From the operations bay, Colonel Dekker Bray watched as the first test of the Stargate artifact was completed successfully. The eggheads had got the thing working, now it was his turn to see what it did. He slapped a thirty-round magazine into the SOPMOD M4A1 he'd been cleaning with a metallic click. A smack on the charging handle put a round in the chamber & brought the slightest of smiles to Dekker's battle-worn face. The ACOG 4x atop his weapon gave it a lethal blend of ranged & CQB effectiveness. Versatility was key when you had no idea what you'd face...

The Colonel was clad in a standard woodland camoflodge pattern, complete with body armor & MOLLE gear for his equipment. His AMT M1911A1 Hardballer hung in a tactical hip holster on his right side, along with a Colt Defender in a bootlace holster on his right boot. A K-BAR knife was suspended up-side down on his left side, within easy reach of his right hand. The Gerber Survival/Explorer that served as his alternative melee item was concealed in a sheath attatched to his left boot.

All Dekker had to do now was wait for the General & the rest of the teams to arrive.He seated himself to wait, setting his M4 on the stainless-steel table top in front of him...

'Hope I don't have a bunch of green cluster-fucks to babysit... Guess we'll have to see...'

-tag-

~Tag for later post

A young man walked into the trailer. The trailer was dark, dusty, and cluttered with charts, diagrams, and tables covered with slabs of stone. Another young man was lying on a couch, the only bit of furniture in the room, spare for several hard metal stools. The man walked over and pulled a copy of The Frolicking Nudist off the person’s face.

“Dr. James Crandle?” He asked.

The man lying on the couch looked at him. The man standing over him was dressed in military fatigues and red beret and bore the 17th Airborne Division badge on his arm.

“No, I’m Ian Johnson.” Ian Johnson sat up. Ian was only 16, yet he looked at least 20 and was rated one of the Golden Simatar’s top archeologist and artifact restorers/analyzers. “Sorry about the darkness….lieutenant. Wanted to take a nap. What interest do you have in Doc Crandle?”

“None of your business. I wish to speak to him.”

Ian sighed as he stood. This guys is trying to act tough, and failing. Dressed in a dirty pair of black jeans and blue shirt Ian grabbed his baseball cap with AMS written on it. He put on a pair of sunglasses and led the paratrooper outside.

The pair walked into the bright sun and across a small grassy field up a short hill till they reached the top. What lay before them was a massive archeological dig. Carefully made square pits were now made into several large pits where dozens of volunteers worked tirelessly. Ian led the soldier across a wooden walkway 24 feet above the main dig site. He talked over the din of the excavation about what they were doing.

“What we got here is a small city around the main burial chamber. Priest, soldiers, slaves all lived and worked here. By the size of it at the moment, we can guess around 700 to a thousand people plus lived here. Priest, soldiers, relatives would reside here. The more elaborate buildings are the more important the people who lived there were. We got about…..”

The paratrooper listened to Ian talk and looked around him at the site. He knew the government was funding the operation, along with a group called Archeologist Misfits Society. He guessed correctly Ian was a part of this group, which was made up of the best minds of ancient history the Golden Simatar had.

“Who the hell is buried here?!” he shouted over a jackhammer which was chewing away at a large rock.

Ian turned and flashed a wide smile. “The man who 2000 years ago united 17 warring states, and the land those 17 sat on make up 80% of the Golden Simatar we know today. For centuries those nations had been fighting, one man united them, and they have stayed strong since. We don’t know his name, but we got his records. Because of Dr. Crandle’s research we found this place.”

Ian led him to a pit at the far end of the excavation. Two dozen men and women stood around it. The man quickly recognized Karen Johnson, she wore a pair of tight shorts and pink t-shirt, a blind man couldn’t miss her. A man climbed out of the wide pit. He wore a pair dusty pair of loose fitting blue jeans and plaid shirt. Like everyone standing there he wore the AMS cap. He wiped his glasses and smiled.

“Its him.” He said.

Cheers erupted from the group and Ian grabbed a mega phone and announced it to everyone else. Work stopped and more cheers erupted, champagne was ordered out of the fridges and to be consumed till none was left.

The Para walked up to the man with the glasses…

“NO, I’M NOT BLOODY GOING ANYWHERE!” James Crandle bellowed at the paratrooper in the trailer. He ran his fingers through his hair before putting his cap back on. “Who says I have to do what the army says! We are going to open the tomb in two days and find a possible treasure hoard that might surpass Tut! And you’re telling me you have no idea how long I’ll be gone?”

“Yes Doctor. You will…” the paratrooper, tried and failed again to sound hard.

“Name and how old are you?”

“I’m 21. The military believes…”

“Get bent. I don’t give jack-sh*t what the army believes. I’m not going to throw away the result of half of my career because the army finds an old army manual buried in the dirt. Where are you taking me anyway.”

“Please sir. We take you to Tarlachia. If you are not happy, you can hop on the plane and get back here in less than 6 hours, you’ll have plenty of time. Besides, from what I gather this might be more interesting.”

“Fine, fine, you win you little sleazebag. Why me?”

“Good, grab your gear and meet me out back. Because you’re the best man we have who can read and write dead and ancient languages.” The soldier walked outside.

James grabbed his book-bag, several Clive Cussler paperbacks, and his duffel bag. He said goodbye to his colleges and told them he would be back for the opening. He climbed into a modified Osprey with jet engine instead of propeller, which was waiting just down the hill. As the aircraft took off he turned to the Paratrooper.

“What is your name son?”

“Dirk Wolfe.”

James nodded and leaned back. The Osprey’s engines became horizontal and they headed towards Tarlachia. Dirk leaned over and handed James something. James looked at it in disgust.

"Mauser M2 in .40S&W Doctor." Dirk said.

"I hate firearms, I'm not carrying it." James tried to hand it back, but Dirk once again shoved back to him.

"You will carry it Doc. That is final."

"Fine you pisshead." James shoved the Mauser into his bookbag and pulled out a copy of Deep Six and began to read.

Lieutenant Mary Beth Henderson arrives at the SGC. She was a striking, tall woman with smooth coffee skin, from the southern colony of New Emanar, Kamana. She had served in the Emanaran and then Kamanan Air Force for a total of seven years and had a good deal of combat experience from the last war. She walked immediately up to Colonel Decker and saluted. "Second Lieutenant Mary Beth Henderson of the Kamanan Air Force reporting for duty, sir!" He heels click together as she speaks.

Major Knight walked through the halls of the SGC his steyr standing out compared to the normal M16. As he walked his colt .45's but kept taping his combat knife. He pulled out his passcard and slid it through the card reader and watch the door open. He looked out at the stargate and let out a low whistle. As he walked in the room he noticed Dekker Bray and stoped quickly and saluted. "Major Chester Knight reporting for duty sir!"

Alvax Lovad was walking through the SGC. He opened a door with his card and looked at the repaired Stargate. If I had been able to touch it I would have made it work at least two weeks earlier. He halted and saluted to Colonel Dekker Bray. "Alvax Lovad, technician reporting for duty sir!"

RUSKKIA, SOMEWHARE IN THE SOUTHERN WASTES

50 Years Ago.

The bunker seemed gloomy, most likely to the barely working electrial lights which had been recently fitted. Then again there was the old gaslamps which lined the walls of the bunker and gave of a fable glow, cuasing the shadows to flicker and seem that they were moving.

Private Earnest Whittleton of the Ruskkie Imperial Army had more on his mind than just the flickering lights. In front of him, in the large room filled with scienists and army sappers, stood a strange but large ring. Thick electriacl cables ran from the ring to large switches on the wall to one side, whilst clogs and large gears connect to a large handle for the ring to turned round by hand.

Some professor of the Imperial College was supervising some last minute checks before the 'experiment' began. The same 'experiment' which the young Private was taking part, in the role of the 'test subject'.

Whittleton had been brief by the head professor that the ring was believed to be some sort of transport engine or device. A device which would enable the Empire to conquer the Aether. It was also believed to be called a 'Stargate'.

tag

OOC: Sorry I didn't respond as fast as I should have, once the thread began.

IC:
General Jack Billa watched the stargate open its portal to an unknown destination with absolute astoundedness.

Just then, several people arrived, one after another as they approached Colonel Bray, saluted and reported for duty.

Billa cleared his throat attentively and spoke with an air of practiced authority:

"All right then, let's get to work Michaels. Set security at level five. And stand by to close the Iris should we have any hostilities."

The Iris, they had finally determined the week before was actually a shield that the creators of the stargate had implemented to compliment the stargate.

"Actually, close the Iris. I don't want anything going wrong."

The klaxons began to sound rhythmically as Michaels complied with his orders.

"Call for Colonel Clarke, tell him to report to the Alpha sector."

General Billa left the room, and quickly made his way to the Alpha sector, the same sector in which the stargate stood. Immediately as he entered Colonel Bray stood attentively and barked out in a crisp clear voice:

"Officer on deck!"

"Looks like we've got a live one now, Bray. As soon as everyone gets here, we shall set the teams up."

Just then, Colonel Travis Clarke entered and saluted to the General. Colonel Clarke stepped next to Colonel Bray and turned sharply, carefully eyeing the soldiers and civilian standing at attention before them.

He leaned toward Bray.

"Bunch of chicken-shits we've got here..."

Clarke's hand rested lightly against the dual Berettas that sat holstered to the small of his back. Typically, they were not military issue, but he had insisted on sticking with the guns of his choice. The General allowed it, more to make sure the Colonel was of sound mind...and experience, to lead his team effectively. Clarke also sported much of the same other equipment as Bray, and like Bray, preferrred the SOPMOD M4A1 as his assault weapon. This hung around his shoulder on a black strap that was slung across his chest.

He turned to the General once again and spoke:

"Has a probe been sent through yet, sir?"

General Billa turned to Alvax Lovad, "Go find out what the hell is taking the P-ops team so long."

Lovad saluted and left the A-sector quickly.

(OOC: Read the signup thread, I posted something of importance)

Techon

A man walked away from the city, the dirt path leading through the plains and thin forests. He looked ahead, walking down a hill, seeing the Sogra (StarGate). He rested his hand on the butt of the submachine gun that was held by a strap slung over his shoulder. He was wearing a green jacket with a black bullet proof underneath; he was also wearing green pants. On his head was a green baseball cap, and sunglasses.

His name was Ben Kirth, a 34-year-old Colonel of the Techon Military. He was also a brilliant scientist, one of the scientists who had been sent to examine and study the Sogra that they had discovered, they figured out how to use it, and had set it up, it was now used for purposes of providing support with less advanced nations.

A Starhead flew over in the sky, the sleek triangle shape of the one-man spacefighter. It flew over the Sogra and headed for the horizon. It was odd that the Sogra had just been lying in the middle of a forest, when it was so technologically advanced. The scientists figured it must had been left behind by another race of some sort.

He approached the gate, two other soldiers on guard saluted him. He saluted them back, and then approached them more.

“Anything out of the ordinary?” He asked.

“Negative sir, everything is clear,” The other soldier; Major Egrity, replied.

“Good,” Kirth said. “I am going to patrol the area, if that gate comes on, signal in for me to come, don’t fire unless fired upon.”

”Yes sir!” The two soldiers said.

With that Ben walked past the Sogra, and across the grass plains, heading into the forest.

James walked down the corridor, unsure of where to go. A guard had handed him a keycard and told him nothing besides 'Welcome to Stargate'. He didn't know what to do. He looked at his watch. 34 hours till Karen opens the tomb.

With his bookbag slung over one shoulder, carrying his duffel bag, and wearing dirty civilian clothes instead of crisp clean military or civ clothes, he stuck out like a sore thumb. James wandered around for a few minutes before he spotted a pair of military looking men. He walked up behind Travis Clarke and tapped him on the shoulder. Travis turned and looked at the eyes behind the dirty glasses.

"I'm Doctor James Crandle.....uhhhh.... Colonel. Who the hell is in charge of this operation."

The Young Private watch as an army sapper turned the handle round that made the large ring turn round a few places before another sapper few the switch that made some sort of bolting device that closed and lit a red light on the ring. This was repeated another six times until what seemed to be a sprout of water shoot out of the Stargate and then collasped back to form a water like surface across the middle of the ring that was the Stargate. Whittleton noticed seaveral people jumping backwards and cursing in suprise as this happened.

Two soldiers helped Whittleton into the rest of the heavy rubber diving suit and then a third palced the metal helemt over his head and twisted it round into position before bolting it into position. Whittleton then took a deep breath and stepped upto the Stargate, a task not helped by the heavy metal boots of the diving suit.

Whittleton stood in front of the shimmering water like surface that was in front of him. He then stepped forwards and entered the history books as the first Ruskkie through the Stargate...

Plisken was staring at the slim line flat screen monitor in front of him, in fact he’d been staring at for nearly three hours continuously, whilst clicking past silently and methodically telemetry data from the Stargate was relayed to his terminal as well as a dozen others. It wasn’t really necessary for him to remain there and with such dedication but it was curiously interesting to him, the funky aura of the Stargate had yet to wear off, the solid fluid nature of the gates eye still caught his attention in a way beyond confirming a normal establishment of a link.

Hardly the obvious nerd, yet never quite being comfortable as a grunt Jared had found technical matters more puzzling, of greater depth and once you understood something very uncluttered. He still got messages asking him to hook up friends of his parents to digital, despite the fact he’d only actually connected the box and paid for his parent’s subscription but he kept that to himself. He was entitled to have a little credit for breaking the rules from his parents at least.

Harry woke up, and, like on any other morning, checked his letter-box. What he saw this morning was the reason why he had been doing this: a letter from SGC, containing reporting orders for that morning. He was finally going to be doing something interesting. He was out of the door as soon as he was dressed, and in his car.

Two hours later:

The car pulled up alongside a guard station.

"New to the base? I ain't seen you around here before," the guard said.

"Yep. I got my ID and reporting orders right here," was Harry's reply.

"OK, in you go."

The car set off again, and parked in the nearby car-park. Harry followed the signs, and found his way to the reception desk.

"Excuse me," he said to the person at the desk, "I've been ordered to report to Colonel Clarke."

The General looked down upon Crandle with a slight disapproving look. He spoke clearly and with a clip.

"I am, Doctor. And next time, you better be addressing me or I'll have you slapped into MP prison."

Crandle immediately tried to rectify the situation and saluted the General and stood silently next to the others.

~~~~~~~~~~

OOC: There's no reception desk in a freaking military installation...it's not a tourist stop lol. However, I'll just have your guy talking to an MP standing just indoors of the underground base.

IC:
The MP squared himself opposite of Harry and spoke in a cold voice:

"Name, registration number and purpose of your visit."

The other MP stepped next to the two and held a rather nasty looking gun of obvious semi-automatic fire-rate. All MPs were assigned this weapon anyways.

Crandle gave the General nothing more then a half mocking salute. The General couldn't expect any more from him, considering his file said flat out Extreme Dislike For Anything Related to Military.

When Crandle saw General Billa had his back turned and noone was watching, he quickly gave him the finger. Sitting himself down on a crate, Crandle pulled out a thick folder containing information about the dig. He didn't understand why he was picked. Some of his colleges had been in the military, why not them?

He knew he had to sit through a long talk by these fellas about procedure and other crap before they cut to the chase. He wipped his glasses as he a few glances from the soldiers around him. Pulling out a magnifing glass, pad of paper, pencil, and photo of the tomb's entrance, he began to slowly translate.

OOC: You knew what I meant...

IC:

Harry, prepared for this, didn't need to think on his answer.

"Pvt Harry Mills, 24601. The visit is in relation to an application I made to work with one of the SG teams."

Dekker's look goes from one of something close to happy to something around utterly annoyed. The 'Colonel' thing was temporary, hopefully... He'd been a Sergeant Major during his time with the armed forces of his home country, America, and had never liked his officer's rank in the RDMA...

He returned the many salutes with one of his own, frowning the entire time...

"I ain't used to this officer stuff... I'm 'Colonel' Dekker Bray, I'll be leading team two.
The scraggly-looking motherfucker with the twin 92's on his ass is Travis Clarke, also a Colonel. He's leading team one..."

Dekker singles out a man wearing the 'Full Bird' insignia of a military Colonel...

"As for the rest of you, I have no idea who you are, where you come from, or what you do. As for what you've done, I don't give a dirty rat-fuck. I've seen some supposed bad-asses get gunned down in my time for screwing around in a firefight doing some kinda John-Wo Bullet-Time bullshit. If I see any of that I will shoot you my self... Am I clear?"

Dekker's tone is friendly, but firm. Once he knew them a bit better he'd start to be a bit more friendly. Dekker's inabilitly to trust people he'd just met was one of his major drawbacks as an officer...

"Might as well get everyone introduced while Travis is busy jaw-jacking with the General..."

He points a fingerless tactical-gloved hand at the only female of the group...

"You ma'am... Your name, rank, and country of origin."

OOC: Woe be the day I had to bump this thing...

I would post but I need to wait for the lead bad guy...

Just a little 'writer's block' at the moment for me, I'll try to get something posted tomorrow or later this week.

Oh and the person who keeps typing swear words, could you 'tone' it down a bit co's the computer I mainly use will not lemme see the damn page!

Ruskkia

ooc: I guess I'll post something

ic:

Crandle was getting fustrated, the military seemed more interested to converse with each other then tell them why they were there. He took off his glasses, cleaned them and put them back on his face before speaking.

"Can someone please tell us why were are all here?"

General Billa turned his head to Crandle, looking at him dead in the eyes.

"You all have the right to leave this project immediately, but once I begin your 'orientation', you are bound under the Tarlachian military rule and will be subject to any and all criminal charges as seen fit. Your true purpose for being here will not be known by any unauthorized personnel, and if they ask, you are simply government social workers."

Billa paused momentarily before asking, "Anyone want to save your arses of this burden, leave now."

No one before him moved. Billa grinned slightly, then put on a face of seriousness.

"Very well then. You are here on a top secret black project. Whatever is documented, said, seen, heard, smelled, tasted, felt, even imagined in this complex, stays in this complex. Is that understood?"

The last bit was spoken to all of them, to which he recieved a variety of "Yes sir!", "Yeah", "Whatever."

Those that said anything other than "Yes sir" were given stern looks by Col. Travis and Col. Bray. This little problem would be fixed quickly, they would make sure of that...

General Billa continued, "Ladies and Gentlemen, before you, and behind me sits the most advanced technology to date since whomever colonized this world before us. We like to call it a "stargate", a portal doorway to other worlds. You are all to be assembled into teams, each led by either one of the colonels here, and are ultimately under my jurisdiction. Any failure to obey my command or your team leader's, and you will be dealt with appropriately."

The general strode up the ramp to the stargate and knocked loudly upon the closed iris.

"This here is the Iris, a shield that we've determined meant to keep out unwanted arrivals. Those that attempt will be crushed by the hyperspace wormhole travel into this Iris. It is of a metal that is not of Earth, and so far has passed all our agressive destruction efforts with flying colors. It is truly a marvel, and we are grateful to have such a superb defense on our stargate."

Billa strode back down to the group, looking at each of them. "Now, let's get you suited up, geared up, and ready to go. Briefing is at 1200 hours, and both teams will be given their missions. Departure is at 1300 hours. Any questions, you ask your colonel. Gentlemen, select your teams."

Both men saluted respectfully.

"I'll meet you all in briefing. I'm going to find out why the hell my p-ops team hasn't sent the probes out yet."

He pointed a finger at Crandle.

"You better straighten up your attitude doctor, or you're going to get yourself killed."

General Billa walked briskly out of the room, and up to his private quarters.

Travis turned to the group before him.

"All right, you heard him. I want you all to tell us your specialties and background, so we may choose our teams."

"Pvt. Mills, Sir. Just your average soldier, sir," says the young soldier, remembering his high scores on the rifle range. Thirty rounds all within 50mm is the best he ever got, but 55mm was his average. All at a range of 300m.

"I spent some time in the Utterly Mad military, and was invited by my RSM to enter into possibly the best careers opportunity the army has to offer."

The private suppresses a small smile as he remembers being told about this operation by his RSM, and that he would be receiving an application form soon. Failure to apply for this post would not be appreciated...

"The assessment results from the end of my training are in my file."

OOC: Just so you know, the Utterly Mad military uses British Army rankings. Most military bases in Britain are run by a non-commisioned officer with the rank of Warrant Officer Class 1 (the commisioned equivalent would be a Major). He is in charge of a regiment, and is thus called the Regimental Seargent Major (or RSM for short).

"Can someone please tell us why were are all here?"


42. No doesnt work, never mind

Dekker was puzzled...

'He's in all that shit & still a private? Promotions must be a bitch to get...'

He shrugged off the confusion & gestured to the next guy, an egghead by the look of him... His ID Badge said Crandle...

"An' you... You're a civie advisor, right?"

Crandle looked at Dekker.

"No, I am not a civie advisor. I'm Dr. James Crandle, archeologist and an interpeter of old languages. I have no idea in hell why you military folks would want me, you must have your own groups of interpeters to go off with you on your safari."

Crandle looked at Dekker.

"No, I am not a civie advisor. I'm Dr. James Crandle, archeologist and an interpeter of old languages. I have no idea in hell why you military folks would want me, you must have your own groups of interpeters to go off with you on your safari."

Dekker's expression dropped from friendly to hostile in less than a second...

"You just gave me the textbook definition of civilian advisor, 'Doc'. Check the attitude before I check you into the brig with my right boot lodged in your ass... Am I clear?"

This guy was going to be a problem... As long as he stayed on the 'annoying' level of liberal smart-ass-ish-ness, Dekker would do his best to refrain from landing a backhand across the the man's nose...

Pvt. Mills noticed the confusion, but through a few years of practice, held in his smile. He was a fairly good shot, and had spent time in some of the most heated wars in the region. He nearly got promoted too. Oh well, never mind.

OOC: I don't know about any other nations, but Utter Madness (while it existed) had similar requirements for passing basic training as the British Army. For example, In the British army it's only five shots inside a radius of 60mm, whereas in the Utterly Mad Army, it was thirty. Utter Madness became a wasteland not too many weeks after Pvt. Mills applied. He was just about to be promoted to Lance Corporal too :) . It was, in case there was some confusion, a radius of 50-55mm that he was remembering.

RUSKKIA, PRESENT DAY

General Bellington stood facing the squad of Imperial Army soldiers dressed in the pretty much standard grey trenchcoats and caps. The sound of busyness drifted through from the Operations Room where the constant clatter of telegraph machines, analytical engines and clerks writing out reports, cursing and asking where such-as-such report had gottne too.

He cleared his throat and began. "Gentlemen...and ladies," Bellington quickly added he saw the squad's sniper, the only female in the unit. "A few months back our outpost on Hion was seemingly attacked by 'metal huamn lizards with red glowing eyes' who seemingly came through the stargate. They appeared to use some sort of 'staff weapon' which fires what seems to be a bolt of electrically.

As you may have guessed, our forces were routed by the assualt but managed to regroup and beat back this new enemy. Luckily we managed to get the address of their gate and thus send through an agent of the Ruskkie Interior Guard who has collected enough information for your mission, which'll he'll be coming with you."

A few curses sounded from the squad, Bellington carried on none the less. "Your mission will be to assinate their leader, known as a 'System Lord', when he addresses the people of his world in a few days time."

(OOC: Is it only me who is still bothering to take part in this RP? Offworld friendlies (well will be) already with an instellar empire (well just a few planets) and is now taking on the Goa'uld (well assinate a system lord...). Plus just how are SG-1/SG-2 going to meet the Ruskkies?)

Sergeant Midnight led his squad, ready for their mission, into the 'gate room' where a captain of the Ruskkie Interior Guard stood waiting. A few curses sounded from the back of the squad. The RIG captain stepped forwards and introduced himself as the gate was dialled up. "Right, I'm Captain Jacob Stevens of the Ruskkie Interior Guard. You have been briefed on the mission which you have been sent on. As you are aware I am coming with you to see that this mission is successful, so do not question anything and do actually what I say."

The squad grunted replies back. Stevens replied. "Good. Sergeant...lead them out."

Dekker's expression shifted back to a more friendly form...

"Anyone else? I'd like to get this shin-dig started ASAP..."