United Republic Marine Corps's Story

The men and women of the United Republic Marine Corps. strolled into the strange Terran bar, looks of bewilderment and mischief painted across their faces. Torres was off and already trying to get as smashed as his money would allow, and Arkid just wanted to get out and enjoy being around people that weren't his fellow servicemen. The others found a seat as Torres ordered shots of God knows what and knocked them back.

The marines chatted away, roaring laughter emanating from their group periodically as they recounted tales from their careers: boot camp horror stories, missions gone funnily awry, field meltdowns, and of course the rather grotesque retelling of sexual encounters with partners less than reputable, mostly all for sport.

Drinking games commenced, once more producing hilarity from those involved. They got loud, but it hardly seemed to matter in a place like this where there was all manner of beings making equally as much noise. As long as they didn't bother anyone, they avoided trouble. They weren't here for that anyway.

They were here to enjoy themselves.

"Unner'stood," Dom grunted, taking a set at the bar. He slid forward the folded-up sheafs of paper. "I'm here to see 'bout getting my ole job back. That is, if you got room."

Dom rolled his left shoulder again, just as a group of Marines entered and settled into the bar, making an impressive racket.

Gabrielle glanced over towards the soldiers, watching them grow louder and louder. Well, at least they weren’t being crude towards women and being otherwise obnoxious. Maybe things were about to turn around for the sixteen year old. Taking the pieces of paper as they were slid over to her, she glanced over them carefully while listening to his request. Oh, he wanted a job. Well, that certainly made sense. What was with the influx of old employees coming back? It wasn’t that she truly minded, but several of them had been lackluster in actually doing their job, so now she was less willing to just rehire them back immediately,

“Alright… well, here’s the issue.” Lord where did she even start? “I have room, yes, but I’ve had several employees return and ask for a job and then they sort of never show up to actually work. Or, they show up and do work, but end up causing me a ton of grief. I’m not in the mood for drama and if you’re not willing to actually show up to the bar and work, then don’t waste my time.” Glancing back towards the Marines, she flexed her jaw a little.

“Can ya’ll keep it down a smidge? I’m trying to conduct a damned interview right now!” Returning her attention back to Dom, Gabby thought about his previous comment about the Aschen,

“I don’t know what your views are on the different races that might stalk through the door, but we’re not treating them any different, even if they are the Aschen. Most of them are dicks like their …” Gabrielle pauses, coughing while not quite saying who she meant, “but, we’re not going to just look for a reason to kick them out. So, if that’s going to be a problem for you, you need to voice that. If there are problems with the Aschen soldiers, or anyone for that matter, the security will take care of it and especially if it’s the Aschen, I am to be notified immediately as I have this agreement with Mollem to let him know.” Sighing, she tried to make sure to touch on all the points that had been brought up in the last few days.

Dom scowled. He folded his arms over his chest and leaned back, staring down his wedge of a nose at the girl.

"I deal with things proper, like," the man said stiffly, in his way. "Folks come in here all walks'a life. Never once kicked anyone out who didn't deserve it. Way I see it, long as they a payin' customer, no reason to cause a fuss."

He leaned forward a bit, slightly, frizzled eyebrows drawn together.

"And if I ain't interested in showin' up to work why would I be here right now?"

After a pause, Dom gave his head a shake. He relaxed his body somewhat. His eyes drifted to the sheets of paper.

"Sorry," he bit off an apology, as though unused to the word. "I'm a bit rough 'round the edges, if you can't tell. Seems like you have a lot to deal with, managin' this place now. I hate drama as much as the rest of 'em. If you need help, I'm your man."

The Republic vessels scouring the rim of the Tarsus system were vigilant, keeping their eyes open for any sign of trouble. The scanners picked up nothing, but one could never be too careful out in the darkest boundaries of space. The naval crew watched the dark expanse, a limitless blackness enshrouding them as they pressed on through the void.

"We're not picking up any readings, sir," the navigator aboard the Vandal stated. The admiral merely nodded in acknowledgment. "Eyes peeled, men. We can't afford to be caught off guard." The Tarsus system was characteristically devoid of activity usually, but these patrols were still coordinated in case the time came for the Republic to greet some new friends.

Or to blow away some new enemies.

Training in the Corps. was always a rough experiment; it was called an experiment because the Sergeants liked to try new, cruel and unusual methods to help toughen up their marines. This time, they had their marines run around the track, carrying on their shoulders bamboo shafts with bags full of rocks at each end, all the while holding onto buckets full of water atop their heads. "...and if any of you dumb bastards decides to get lazy or stupid and drop your bucket, I will have your ass!" the Gunny had made it clear that he wasn't going to be lenient today.

The bases stationed around Icarius were well-fortified and protected: MAC installations lined the place, the base itself was built to withstand some heavy shit, be it natural disasters or otherwise. The yard in which they trained was a grand expanse of empty land, stretching for miles and miles. The clearing was made desolate by strategic bulldozing, tearing down several hundred miles of forest land for a military training installation.

The boys and girls of the Defense Force hung around the bases as well; mostly to operate the perimeter defenses such as the MACs. They had their own separate training grounds south and west of the base, whereas the marines trained to the north and east. Neither trained so far away from the base that they couldn't skip back to it in a timely manner should things go haywire as they tended to on Republic worlds, but it was far enough to give them sufficient space.

The marines were called in, finally, having completed a good day's worth of experimentation. "Get your ugly asses into the mess. Move, move, move!" It didn't get any better than this slice of heaven.

Cedric was pacing back and forth in his cabin; he had been tasked with meeting representatives of the Calidonan Supremacy on Misrana, a strange planet nestled within the Onyx Galaxy. They were neighbors to the Republic, and President Valentine thought it a good idea to reach out to them. The Republic's economy seemed to be suffering from lack of international trade, and the decidedly isolationist Republic was forced to swallow its pride and seek out alliances with other nations.

Reports on the Supremacy had suggested that they were in conflict with a band of terrorists -or freedom fighters, if the reports were at all accurate- known as the Nazuan Rebellion. Their conflict didn't concern them, however; the Republic was interested in the Supremacy's economy and trade potential. Something that could benefit both parties, the Republic especially so.

That had arrived in Misranan space, finally.

The Marines stationed aboard cradled their M4-1Cs, keeping tight grips and ready trigger fingers should things go awry. They would keep their eyes peeled for any signs of disturbance.

One of the ODP's hailed the Republic ships. One that hovered closest to the Supremacy's state. A high, inquiring voice sounded from the signal.

"I am Magannamus of the Nahatsan Military. Please stare your reasons for arriving and your faction name."

Cedric was directed to the comms, where he returned communications with the Supremacy ship. "My name is Cedric Mason of the United Republic of Tarsus. The Republic had scheduled a diplomatic conference with representatives of the Calidonan Supremacy. I am here to represent my nation and to establish a treaty with your government."

He awaited further orders, nervously.

"Ah, yes. Unfortunately I cannot grant you direct audience with the Triumvirate, however, they are ready to connect with you through our communications system. Please stand by for just a moment."

Another signal hailed the Tarsus ship as Magannamus' voice faded out. The new signal came with a visual. Three distinct figures sitting atop thrones. One to the left, Sanya Taberan, a woman with horns curled over her head and amber eyes. The one to the right, Tamrou, a human man with a stern and dark shadow cast across his face. Finally, in the center, there was Badoren Ahm, the large-headed grey alien with several limbs. The colors they adorned were the proud silvers and blues of the Supremacy.

"Greetings," said Badoren, the Alnova, the one who had the final say to every decision they made as a group.

Cedric addressed the three figures that appeared on the telecom before him, the bright, flat screen illuminating his slightly-tanned skin with a pale electronic light. "Salutations, your excellencies," he began.

"As stated before, I represent the United Republic of Tarsus. We are a small nation, nestled into a far corner of the galaxy. As neighbors, we hoped that it would be possible to establish a concordance of sorts; extending our hand to a neighbor, so to speak."

He fell silent, a tense air permeating before him. Why he chose the life of a diplomat, he did not know. Speaking with others, especially strangers, made him nervous. The fact that said strangers could potentially be highly hostile towards outsiders was not a possibility that made this any easier.

Badoren's three fingers tapped patiently atop his armrest. They curled gently into a small fist. His face was stern- at least, as stern as one could get when one's expression barely changed.

"We thought we had made it clear to others outside of our system that we, the Calidonan Supremacy, are not interested with an alliance that includes those outside of our planet. We have our hands occupied, as is, with our own affairs. We seek not the resources that others may give," he spoke, a slight edge in his voice. This had been the fourth time an outer faction had contacted them for the same reason. It was ridiculous.

Cedric had retained his level, not allowing his nervousness to show. This triumvirate, especially the one calling himself Badoren, were quite an intimidating lot. They were in the Supremacy's playground now, and that just made their words ring that much more intensely. However, Cedric had knowledge on his side that he suspected these leaders did not know he had.

With a warm smile, he responded, "Yes, I had heard. However, it has come to our attention that the Supremacy has been in a long-standing conflict with a band of terrorists calling themselves the Nazuan Rebellion. Your hands being as bound as they are, the Republic devised an offer, should you be so inclined to accept it: in exchange for material trade with the Supremacy, we shall provide military support to your cause, thereby taking some of the pressure off of your government on this front."

He let that offer sink in. Of course, he realized how insane such an offer was; he himself didn't agree with it. What nation willingly sacrifices its own soldiers solely for the sake of establishing a relationship with a foreign entity? However, times being what they were, the Republic decided this would be the best way to win this Supremacy over. Besides, establishing a pact with them could potentially open the gates to other beneficial relationships further down the road.

It was true. The rebellion was making headway, and were creating allies. They needed to do something. There were already plans, however, those were going to take quite a bit of energy.

The three communicated with one another in a series of telepathic messages, so even though it only seemed as if they were staring at the screen, important discussions were at hand.

Sanya stood up, lifting her chin. "It would be a brief exchange. We do not plan to give any other faction support for a lengthy amount of time. Our soldiers, our time, our weapons and funding, are precious. We cannot expend very much."

Cedric nodded in understanding. That was a yes, even if a begrudging one. Any aid that could be sent the Republic's way was useful, even if it wasn't much. Interacting with the Misranans was only the beginning, however. They would try to utilize this new-found relationship to establish other alliances to the best of their ability.

"Understood, your excellency. The Republic is greatly in your debt." What would come next would be the actual drawing up of terms; how each side benefited from befriending the other. Those would come momentarily. For now, though, Cedric enjoyed his diplomatic achievement.

A flash of light shined in the distance, bright, but not blinding, then after flash a deep voice yelled ''Were in the hell am I?'' said a man wearing a black face mask, rough black leather armor, and a worn 1940s fedora. His name was death, and he was having the worst day of his life. First he was betrayed by his best friend in the capital wasteland, for only 500 caps....then he was sent on a suicide mission to give water to to the entire wasteland....wich could or couldn't work. and he apparently died today from rads. he looked around. ''looks like im not in the capital waste land any more"