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Thread: Stargate: Rise of Humanity IC [M]

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    Default Stargate: Rise of Humanity IC [M]

    Like most of the doors in the Cheyenne Mountain Complex, the door to the room adjoining the briefing chamber was made of thick. Hung on the inevitably massive hinges needed to support the weight of steel measuring several centimeters thick, it was made to block all sound from escaping. Unlike the door to the conference room, however, the door was tiny by comparison, seemingly smaller than the standard size of a door. Tiny and usually locked. It was a room that people usually did not use and one that most went out of their way to either deny existed or politely ignore. Yet as Major Thurman reached the door, she heard voices from the other side, obviously raised.

    "I stand by my assessment. SG-7 needs solid members and..." said a feminine voice.

    "Your concern is noted, Doctor." a baritone voice cut in, unmistakably masculine. "But we do not have personnel to waste and the positions are final."

    Seemingly automatically, Thurman's fist rapped the door and she had to swallow a curse. It wasn't often that she felt regret at the deeply ingrained training that she received, but in this instance it was clearly to her determent. Firmly pushing away the thought, she felt the reverberation caused by voices on the other side again, this time much lower, followed by the signal to enter.

    Pushing the door open and quickly closing it behind her, Thurman saw that there were only two occupants: General Hammond and Doctor Fraiser. The latter had the expression of breathlessness and being caught out while the latter had adopted a neutral look. Stepping forward smartly and tucking her officer's cap under her arm, she saluted and said, "Major Thurman reporting as ordered, sir."

    The general nodded as he rose to his feet and replied, "At ease, Major. Thank you for coming. I called you here so we could speak before you addressed SG-7. I know they are already assembled in the conference room."

    He waved to one side of the room. Though largely nondescript as most would assume, consisting as it did of only a pair of desks, one of which Hammond was sitting at, and a few chairs, the majority of the room was barren concrete. The only exceptional item was a small data server linked to a wide screen television. Undoubtedly noteworthy when it was installed, to say nothing of how painful getting it into the room intact would have been, the monitor was several meters squared. It was put in, Thurman assumed, to replace the one-way glass that would have given a view of the conference room on the other side. This left a wall of sound-proof concrete where a thinner material might have allowed sound to pass through. The major reflected that it was not the only possible breach that the designers should have paid attention to. Currently it showed the conference room with its long wooden table and chairs occupied by five people.

    "Not much to look at, are they, sir?" remarked Thurman as she stepped closer to the screen. She didn't turn around, but could feel the general frown as he replied, "They are the best we can offer right now, major, and we need new teams in the field."

    The major nodded in a way that implied that she was considering that thoughtfully. In reality she knew it before the general spoke; she had just been testing the waters. Resurrecting a dead military group wasn't unheard of, but she knew that they were doing it now because they were planning to draw in more people and a roster of teams with holes in it after just one year of operation would be bad for morale, even if in her opinion it kept people on their toes.

    "Here are their files." said Dr. Fraiser, stepping forward and handing them to Thurman as she turned away from the screen. There were no lights in the room on, but the light from the monitor was enough as she flipped thorough them. She had already seen them, of course, but the doctor probably wasn't told that; a lot of things in the Stargate Program were on a need-to-know basis and there were some things even the Chief Medical Officer was better off not knowing. Or not qualified.

    "First Lieutenant Popertue will be your second-in-command," said Fraiser, "A good man, I hear. Solid, dependable."

    "He comes recommended," added Hammond, "A good mind for combat operations."

    Thurman nodded, but thought, A family man, his file says. That's a liability, but they don't want to admit that; nobody ever does. Closing the file, she set it on a nearby desk and turned to the next.

    "Technical Sergeant Mari." she murmured.

    "She passed all her fitness exams with flying colors," said Hammond, getting a nod that Thurman felt on the edge of her vision rather than saw, "And she has proven herself capable in negotiations."

    "A welcome addition, sir." replied the major, but thought, A daddy's girl playing the diplomat. And a Kerig coffee drinker to boot: her blood is probably just as watery. Laying the file on top of the last, she barely concealed her grimace at the third file. Or perhaps not.

    "He comes recommended too, major. I know how you feel about people like him..." began Hammond.

    "A jokester, sir." she replied.

    "Just so, but he isn't much worse than the colonel."

    "On paper, sir."

    "Or in person. Your team needs a heavy weapons expert."

    She didn't reply to that. There was nothing else to say. The sole consolation is that he wouldn't last long. Their kind never did. The third file followed the others. A glance at the fourth file brought her eyes back up to face the general's.

    "The ensign is..."

    "Still assigned to your team." said Hammond firmly, "I noted your objections, but I believe it for the best."

    "A major, a lieutenant, two sergeants, and an ensign." she said, stressing the last.

    "Yes. I have full confidence that it will not cause any complications."

    "No more than expected, sir." she affirmed stiffly.

    She put aside the last two files without opening the last one. It had been invigorating reading the first half dozen times, but only in an academic sense. She had seen Ambri work under Fraiser too many times to question it, and the team did need a field medic. But did it have to be Ambri? she thought. Cruel gods.

    Turning back to the screen, she said, "So there were no Jacksons to spare." It was a statement more than a question, but Fraiser answered anyways. "None, though not for lack of trying. Replicating what Daniel can do is... difficult."

    "If not impossible," agreed the general, stepping into Thurman's peripheral vision to look at the screen as well. "Though we could use them."

    Silence fell between the three as Janet joined them and Thurman felt the tension pulse in the air. There was a lot more riding on the success of SG-7 than either of them were willing to admit to her at that moment, even if they had spoken freely of it before. A team destroyed, now raised from the ashes. Nobody up the chain was suggesting to shut down the Stargate Program before: if they still were, they were doing so very quietly, but that didn't mean that the critics had all gone away. There were calls for the the general to resign or else be reassigned. SG-1 had saved the planet, but only under the chief operating officer's nose and that stung his ability to command in the eyes of the upper echelons. The rank and file were more grounded on the general's side, even SG-1, and that was kept things stable. But now the critics were after the structure of the operation itself, questioning if larger deployments might not be preferable to elite teams. That put a burden on all the teams to prove their worth, but SG-7 alone would prove the long-term viability of the design. If it failed, restructuring would follow and with the strength cut out from under him, the general would be at risk again.

    Now that responsibility lay on Thurman. Nobody outside the upper echelons of the SGC knew exactly how she ended up being chosen for the lead role, but most of the garrison swore to her that they agreed with it. She was promoted to facilitate the paperwork and the new command, leaving her grappling with a new rank along with her new role in the Stargate Program. The biggest issue was that she had expected to select her own team and fully intended to draw most of those from the garrison. As it turned out, that decision was also out of her hands.

    "So... are you going to go meet them?" asked the doctor after a moment.

    "Not yet." replied Thurman, gesturing to the small server. She knew it recorded everything that happened in the conference room, which she could use later. "Let them talk. I want to know the lay of the land." Glancing at the door, she added, "After all, we don't yet know how all the pieces will fit together."
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    It was early in the morning as Samantha finished pressing her duty fatigues and earlier finished spit shining her jump boots. She looked over her uniform once again to ensure her Master Parachutist and Master Freefall Parachutist badges were on correctly. On her sleeve was the USAF Special Tactics patch as well as the crest on her red beret. She aligned the expert marksmanship badge with the Pistol, Rifle and Hand Grenade designators hanging off the expert badge. This would be the day where the team finally assembles for their briefing. Thoughts drift through her mind of who would be final selectees for this team, more so, who they were selecting to command this team. Samantha had several thoughts due to the new faces she has seen around the complex these past few months. There were several she would absolutely dread working under, especially Lieutenant Colonel Marquard however she would hold her dread till such time as the team is introduced with who will be in command.

    Samantha sits at the desk inside her quarters with her tablet open composing an e-mail to her kid brother. He too had entered Special Operations however he was in the Marines opposed to the Army or Navy Seals as father had wanted for him. During his training he was always referred to as slime, speed bump, insect or other terms of non endearment from the training Gunnies. Even now out of training and well into his career he is referred to as Gunny Mari, not as Major Mari's lil boy. As she completes the e-mail and sends it, her mind drifts once again on who was going to command this operation and would she be known as Sergeant Mari or just Major Mari's lil girl.

    As she gets dressed in her crisply ironed uniform, she wraps her hair tight in a bun as she places her beret on, adjusts her uniform and inspects herself in the mirror before proceeding toward the conference room the team is to assemble in. As she enters the conference room, as usual, she is the first to arrive. She has always strived to not give those whom might watch her for any signs of weakness anything to use. She has always been told by her father to be ready to do it twice as good as male counterparts to get half the credit they do. She steps smartly to the long conference table taking a seat thinking they could use a better interior decorator allowing a slight smile form on her lips.

    Within a short period of time, the team has arrived and have taken up their own positions. She has already noted Lieutenant Popertue answering her first question, who would be second in command on this team already assuming that a Lt would not command the team. There was also the Ensign. Two officers, her first thought drifts on if there would be an eventual power struggle between the two. She would keep an open mind and not concern herself with that thought unless it actually comes to pass where conflicting orders are given by the two officers. Although she does not say 'Hi' to Ambri as she entered or took up a seat yet, she does offer the Doctor and her friend a soft smile. Then there is the Russian speaking guy. Still having not been formally introduced, she has seen him around the complex, sometimes being chased by others after doing practical jokes or similar things. He seems quite interesting as she offers a soft smile his way as well.

    She remains seated having only offering a general 'good day' to each as they entered and took their seats. Protocol would dictate now with two officers in the conference room that one of the two, perhaps even whoever will be commanding this team, would provide the initial kick off to the briefing or introductions. As no others have entered the conference room for a short time, Samantha takes another moment to look to each of the assembled members considering what each's specialty might be.
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    Ambri came into the conference room with her hair still damp from a recent shower and her uniform a bit rumbled from working the night shift. She hadn't bothered to put on a clean set of clothes, the time it would take to iron them not available to her. Her pale blue eyes were bloodshot from lack of sleep and she stifled a yawn as she poured herself a glass of water. Feeling flustered due to her busy morning at the hospital, barely getting here on time, and her nervousness at the entire situation, she wasn't wearing her typical smile until she saw Samantha. With a sigh of relief, she immediately grabbed a seat next to her, squeezing her hand under the table.

    "Good morning Technical Sergeant Mari," she said with a soft tone, not wanting to draw attention to herself. She set her water on the table and ran her hands through her hair, mussing the dark brown locks into some semblance of normalcy. "God, I could use a cup of your coffee this morning," she stated, her attention turning to the others as they filed in. Each one was a replacement for the team members recently lost, and she wondered idly just how long they would last. She didn't have to be a genius to know this group was thrown together haphazardly, the mood of Doctor Frasier recently enough to let her know that tensions were high in regards to this compilation.

    It hardly seemed more than a week ago that she and the doctor had discussed her desire to be on this team, the captain voicing her reservations that Ambri had applied for a position without consulting with her first. Although Ambri's skills as a doctor were exemplary, she did fall short in her ability with small arms and had not been in the field for almost a year. Doctor Frasier had also commented on her regret at losing a trained staff member in both the laboratory and hospital. This discussion, in addition to her own misgivings about her ability to perform above the expected standard, were playing on her mind as she studied the new members and settled into her seat.
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    Jacob was waiting in one of the many guest rooms in Cheyenne Mountain when he got word from an Airman that SG-7 was finally meeting in the conference room. After thanking the Airman, Jacob prepared himself to leave his temporary room. He made sure his blue uniform was wrinkle-free, then he put on his officers hat and left the room to begin his small journey to the conference room.

    Jacob had already spent the previous twenty-four hours at the complex, but he didn't do much wandering. Mostly he was resting and reading up a little bit about the Stargate Prorgam. His knowledge of the program was mostly surface-level, but he knew that would grow as he spent time there. At the very least he knew he was being assigned to a squad dubbed "SG-7" as the second-in-command. He also knew a little about the squad members, but only things that weren't confidential.

    After several minutes of traveling through the complex, he finally arrived at the conference room. Already Sergeant Mari and Doctor Ambrose were there, sitting next to eachother on one side of the table, so he took the seat across them. After a couple more mintutes passed, when Ensign Rodgers and Sergeant Ilari were in the room and took their seats, Jacob decided to start up a conversation as they waited for a commanding officer to join them. "So, how long have you guys been here? The mountain, I mean. I got here just yesterday." It was just the start of a simple covnersation, but it give him an idea of how much the squad members knew about the Stargate Program.

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    Unlike the rest, Staff Sergeant Vasili Ilari stepped into the Conference room in his Battle Fatigues smelling heavily of sweat, gunpowder, gun oil, and Jet Fuel. He had on a non-regulation black ball cap and a pair of polarized Oakley Shades, both of which he removed upon entering the room. Ball cap, bill first, into his right back pocket so that the curvature of the bill followed the curve of his butt cheek, revealing his short "high and tight" haircut that made him look like he had just started Basic Training. And his shades hung from his left breast pocket which he had unbuttoned, with the flap tucked into the pocket itself.
    He was also carrying a Tactical 3-ring cover system. A laptop bag looking binder with a sown in handle on the spine and velcro pouches on the front. Vasili set it on the desk opposite from the Tech Sergeant and Doctor.
    Having sat down he unzipped his bag and opened it up flat to reveal pens, pencils, highlighters, several official documents signed by Base and Unit Commanders, which were tucked into a protective plastic film pocket, as well as a ream of college ruled paper full of notes meticulously separated, tabbed, and marked designating each section in Alphabetical order.
    But it was dirty.
    Filled with a mixture of sand, dirt, and a black powdery substance that was probably gunpowder. The notes were also stained and some were even scorched.
    He got up and walked to the corner where a small waste basket sat and he dumped the loose particles into it before returning to his seat, looking up and giving the ladies across from him a smile not realizing there was a smudge of something black on his face. He looked to his side and nodded at the Ensign in acknowledgment of his existence, and when the First Lieutenant entered the room the Staff Sergeant quickly snapped to his feet at the position of attention while simultaneously saying in a loud and crisp voice, " 'Ten-hut!"
    With his eyes forward staring at the wall ahead of him he waited until the Officer had taken his seat before returning to his.
    If they had been in the Army, Vasili would've gotten chewed out for taking a seat even after the current commanding Officer of the room had sat down. In a way that was almost one of the only things he liked about the Air Force over the Army. They were a lot more relaxed while still maintaining a Command Structure.

    When the question came up Vasili was the first to answer. "Well El Tee I was reassigned to the SGC about 4 months ago but out of that 4 months I must've spent 3 days here in the mountain total. The rest of it's been flying to several bases throughout the country getting my Two Forty-Nine recert, and training and qualifying for every Heavy Weapon under that category." As he spoke he flipped through his notes. "Everything from the other LMGs to Mortars to Anti-Vehicle Launchers. M134 minigun, GAU-19 Gatling Gun, 40mm Mk. 19, 30mm GAU-8 Avenger, 25mm GAU-12 Equalizer Cannon, L60 Bofors 40mm Cannon, 105mm M102 Howitzer...if it can be used on the ground and/or mounted/taken off of a vehicle I've been trained and qualified for them all." Vasili shoved his hand under the stack of notes and very loudly flipped them back to the first page. "General Hammond himself told me I would be the Heavy Weapons Expert and gave me authorization for the training. I STILL need to go over the notes for any and all weapons we'll be using and capturing when we step off. Hahahaha...pun intended." The Staff Sergeant looked around with a grin to see if anyone else would laugh at his joke.
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    Rodgers as usual was up early in the morning, having become a regular staple at the facility's gym in the week he's been at Cheyenne Mountain. After a six mile run Stan hit the weights; Finishing his morning workout with a quick mile jog the Ensign made his way to the officers mess for breakfast. It was there that an administration airman found him, handing updated orders to the Naval officer.

    Stan finished his breakfast, and returned to his quarters for a shower. Dressing in a neatly pressed Air Force regulation Battle Dress Uniform, belting his HK-45 on before leaving. Stan made his way to the briefing room in his orders. Along the way he passed an idiot wearing sunglasses underground, and Rodgers shook his head. Finding the appropriate door Stan stepped inside.

    His eyes took in the occupants already inside. Stan recognized the Master Sergeant from his visit to medical on day one. She ran through his record and medical history when the Ensign first reported. Even administering the tests serviceman in his rating quickly become accustomed to. Rodgers offered her a nod in greetings.

    Rodgers recognized the other enlisted personnel present from her occasional appearances in the gym. She stood out with her form fitting attire and regular use of earbuds. Stan offered her a nod as well, noticing her pistol as he did so. The Ensign appreciated that he wasn't the only one present who considered security.

    The naval officer turned to the third person already in the room and studied his fellow officer. Stan briefly wondered how the other officer felt about the Ensign's presence. Stan offered a small smile with his greeting. Taking a seat across from the First Lieutenant, Stan made himself comfortable for the oldest of military traditions, the Hurry Up and Wait.

    Shortly after seating himself, Stan watched the idiot with the sunglasses enter and make a spectacle of himself. First through forcing everyone to pay attention to his obvious illegal uniform modifications; Than through his behavior regarding the officers present. Stan raised an eyebrow when the Staff Sergeant offered him a barely acknowledging nod; But it was the embarrassing reaction to the realization of the First Lieutenants presence in the room that nearly elicited a comment from Rodgers. The Ensign ignored the rest of the spectacle being produced by the newest arrival.

    So, how long have you guys been here? The mountain, I mean. I got here just yesterday."

    Rodgers looked up at the question, and couldn't help himself after the spectacle spoke. “Bullshit.” Stanley stated. “Aside from the fact that qualifying on a number of those would require a few days; Learning the care and maintenance, especially of those that are crew manned weapons would take much longer. So four months to be fully qualified for them is Bullshit.”

    “And since you obviously have a desire for attention,” Rodgers added, “I think a full dress uniform inspection is in your future.” The ensign turned to the First Lieutenant. “Lieutenant…” Stan read the man's name from across the table, “Popertue, would you like to do the honors and show me the spots that require an extra degree of attention? I'm not as familiar with the Air Force Dress uniform currently, and think this would help me familiarize myself.”
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    Ambri nodded to First Lieutenant Popertue as he sat down, greeting Staff Sergeant Ilari and Ensign Rodgers in the same manner as they entered the meeting room. When the First Lieutenant asked them about their time in the Stargate program, it was Ilari that replied first, finishing his reply with an impressive list of weapons he had mastered. Although she managed to keep her expression neutral, she did return his smile, thinking he was as Doctor Frasier had warned..a bit of a sassy one...and she could easily see him getting into trouble. Turning her attention back to the Lieutenant, she took a drink of water in preparation to answer his question, and that was when things took a turn for the worse.

    It was obvious from the start that the ensign took an immediate dislike to the staff sergeant, whether it was his appearance or his attitude, Ambri was not certain, but perhaps it was both. She rose from her chair when Rodgers called out Ilari, knowing it was not her place to get involved, but unable to stop herself from reacting. She remained silent, observing the interaction, but ready to step in if things got out of hand. The two officers and the NCO were new to the Stargate program, and other than their medical history and some basic information she did not know them, making her unable to gauge what was going to occur next.

    The little that Ambri did know about the men came from Doctor Frasier. Once the doctor realized she could not change Ambri's mind about joining the Stargate team, she permitted her to look at the file of each person that was slated as a potential candidate. Ambri was only allowed to look at the pertinant medical information, but she put to memory each person's weight, any abnormalities in blood history, and any previous injuries/incidents that may have an influence on their performance. Over all, the soldiers were in great health and that made it easy for recall. But the doctor also told her about certain characteristics of each member as well...the fierce loyalty to family and aggressive fighting tactics for Popertue, the brazen and trouble seeking side of Ilari, and Rodgers' sarcastic side and of course his affilation with the Navy. And while this was helpful in some ways, it did not assist her in this situation. As the tension built, she reached for the chain around her neck, running the pendant along the thin strand of gold in a habitual nervous gesture.

    It was this gesture that made Ambri notice the stains on her shirt's collar, suddenly making her more self conscience of her own appearance. She sat down almost as quickly as she had stood, the minor wrinkling of her uniform paling in comparison to the spots of blood. She should have prepared another uniform the night before, not expecting to run into overtime with her duties at the hospital. One emergency had been all it had taken to get her off schedule. And now she and Ilari both shared a slovenly look, the only difference being he had drawn attention to himself.

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    A dull thumping sounded at the metal door and Thurman turned to see airman Reese enter. A Caucasian man with broad shoulders and a muscular build that stood a little over half a head taller than the major, he gave off every impression of a macho man, particularly with his non-regulation spiked hair. Still, macho man or not, he avoided eye contact with her as he closed the door behind him and proceeded to hand the general a pair of files, one of which the general immediately passed to Doctor Fraiser. Then he proceeded to stare at the wall behind the commanding officer rather than address his former garrison commander.

    "Dismissed." said Thurman, sensing that the man had nothing more to add. Whatever the general was up to, it clearly didn't require the junior soldier's input. Still, the airman hovered for a moment before the general, still absorbed in the contents of the now-open file, gave a sharp nod. Saluting smartly, Reese beat a hasty retreat.

    "It looks like you get your wish after all," remarked Friser, handing one of the files to the major. Taking it, Thurman immediately recognized the formatting as that of a personnel file. A quick glance at it and its counterpart in the general's hands told her that the two were identical. Turning the pages, she began to skim the contents. "In a fashion," she agreed. It wasn't what she had hoped for, but it was better than nothing. "SG-7 is bulking out."

    "It is, major." replied Hammond closing his file and bringing her eyes up to meet his. "But this may be better than expected. We can test the waters for scaled-up teams while still maintaining our original structure." Gesturing with his file to her's, he added, "This Fritz sounds like they know what they are about; make sure you use them well. God knows that we don't have a lot of people like that to go around."

    Doctor Faiser nodded in agreement and turned back to the monitor. "She should be arriving any moment."
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    Samantha remained in her seat as the Lieutenant entered and Ilari called the room to attention. As the sergeant offered a smile upon seating himself across from her and Ambri, she returned a polite smile and nod. She didn't think anything of the smudge on the sergeant's face, after all, she has seen worse. The musky smell of oils and sweat obvious from this man.

    As the lieutenant makes his introduction, she anticipates the ensign to follow with an introduction. A smirk forms on her lips as the sweaty sergeant proceeds with his introduction. The man lists an impressive number of guns and cannons he is trained on. His well organized binder with tabs, colored pens and ruled paper are impressive to look at even if dirty. As the man speaks, she ponders if the man is as organized as his trinkets on the conference room desk are. She leans close to Ambri whispering
    "This should get interesting." eyes glancing toward the ensign who does not have the appearance of being impressed at the sergeant's resume.

    Bullshit starts the ensign's introduction.

    Samantha keeps a light smile on her lips as the ensign introduces the sergeant to what may be an upcoming uniform inspection. She looks to the side as Ambri stands for a moment, as Ambri takes her seat again, Samantha whispers
    "It's okay Doc, they are just bonding." with a whispered giggle.

    As the ensign finishes speaking to the lieutenant in what would probably result in upcoming barracks inspections for the cute sergeant, she folds her hands on top of the conference room desk and starts in a soft direct tone in response to the lieutenant's initial conversation starter.

    "Sir, I am Technical Sergeant Samantha Mari. I graduated from the University of Washington with a degree in political science. Upon graduation, I entered the Air Force and was selected for Special Operations training. I have served with Special Operations for my time in the Air Force. I am a qualified sniper and have training in small unit tactics. Although I am capable of handling armed conflicts, I temper my discipline with a diplomatic edge. I have been assigned to CMC for the past 11 months and have recently received my assignment to SG-7. I look forward to working with this team with unique skill sets and backgrounds."

    With that she looks to Ensign Rodgers then to Lieutenant Popertue. She sits back in her chair keeping her facial expression neutral, hands still folded on the table before her.

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    Jacob watched Sergeant Ilari rather intently as he answered the question of how long he had been at the mountain, followed by listing a number of heavy weapons he had been trained in. Jacob considered interrupting the seargeant to ask how he became qualified in so many weapons in such a small amount of time, but he decided to let the man continue. As the sergeant continued his list, Jacob took out a pen and notepad from his pocket and opened it up to the first page. At the top he wrote the sergeant's full rank and name, then under it he wrote "Out of uniform" and "Jokster".

    After Sergeant Ilari finished his list, Jacob looked to the man with a straight face, preparing to say something, but Ensign Rodgers spoke up first, calling Ilari out on his claims of qualification. Jacob turned to the next page of his notepad and wrote Rodgers' full name and rank on the top, and under that, wrote "Confrontational". As this happened, Doctor Ambrose rose up from her chair as if she wanted to intervene, though she didn't say anything. Jacob's attention was drawn to her for a few moments, which let him notice the blood stain on her collar before she sat back down.

    After Ensign Rodgers proposed a dress inspection on Sergeant Ilari, Jacob once again prepared himself to speak, then Sergeant Mari chimed in, telling a bit about herself. After she finished, Jacob nodded to her, then stood up, directing his attention back to the Ensign. "Well Ensign Rodgers, as you can see, this is what a dress uniform should look like." He said as he presented himself. "You can also see Sergeant Mari for another good example." He then set his gaze to Sergeant Ilari. "You see, Rodgers, I'm afraid it's actually impossible for us to perform a uniform inspection on the Sergeant, as he is not wearing one. These are of course battle fatigues. Something I would not recommend coming to a meeting like this in. I would suggest the Sergeant change into a dress uniform, but if he's not here when the meeting starts I'm sure the General wouldn't be happy. Ultimately, it'd be better for him to be here out of uniform than for him to not be here at all." Jacob sat back down in his seat with his gaze still glued to Sergeant Ilari.

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