Interlude – Avoiding a Crossfire
by Colonel James Darson & Arrival Thomas Whitlock
Post Details
ON:
The Staff Sergeant on duty at one of the checkpoints leading into the Marine Complex perked up as he saw the turbolift at the end of the corridor open and a man stepped out of it. As he moved towards the checkpoint, The Staff Sergeant moved out from behind the barricade and called out in a business like tone, “Halt! Identify yourself.”
"Hi," Tomas said, walking up to the checkpoint. "Thomas Whitlock," he said, stepping closer and extending his hand.
The Staff Sergeant held up his hand, “Sir, I must ask that you stop where you are!” The Marines at the checkpoint raised their weapons, not in a threatening manner, but to let Whitlock know that he really should stop. With all the recent chaos that was abounding on the station, security was tight.
“I’ll need to see some identification sir,” The sergeant continued.
"Of course, of course," Thomas said lightly as he reached for his press badge. "Here you go," he said, smiling as he handed it to the Marine.
The Staff Sergeant took the proffered badge and examined it before running it through the computer. It came back a second or two later with a cheerful ping of assent that the badge was indeed genuine. As he handed it back to Thomas, the Marine said, "Everything checks out. FNS, huh? Who is your business with?"
"I'm looking for Colonel Darson," Thomas replied as he replaced the badge in his pocket.
The Staff Sergeant looked up sharply at him in surprise, and one of the enlisted Marines behind him guffawed before silencing himself, “One moment please,” he said to Thomas before moving back to his post. He picked up a transmitter and pressed several buttons before raising it to his mouth.
There was a crackle, then a response on the line. What followed was obviously one side of a conversation with the Colonel.
“Colonel, this is Staff Sergeant Elric at Gate Charlie. You have a visitor sir…A journalist sir. From FNS. All his credentials check out…No, I don’t believe that he has an appointment…Yes sir, I’ll ask,”
He turned back to Thomas and asked in a weary tone, “Do you have an appointment?”
"I wasn't aware I would need one," Thomas replied, "so no, I don't have one."
The Marine nodded, “I thought so. Thank you. Won’t be but a moment more,” he picked up the transmitter again, “Sir? I asked. He doesn’t have one…and I…Wait sir, does he look like a what?...Ah. Hold on.”
He turned again, this time appraising his general looks, nodded once, then turned back ,”I’d say so sir…Alright, I’ll send him in.”
Elric turned to Whitlock, “The Colonel says that you’re to be admitted. But since you’re going to be entering a base of the SFMC, I must ask that you sign this waiver,” he proffered it, “and be accompanied by an escort.”
"Of course," Thomas replied with a smile as he signed the form.
The Marine checked it over, filed it, then gestured for the reporter to come with him. He lead him through the complex halls of the Marine HQ, ending up at a Cargo bay. As the hatch hissed open, the Marine gestured for him to go inside. Clearly this was as far as he went.
As Thomas stepped in and the door closed, a voice called out, “Mr. Whitlock I presume? Please keep on walking forward. I’m a little ways in.”
Thomas looked around the area then slowly walked forward. He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting but this wasn't it.
As Whitlock entered a small clearing formed by a ring of boxes, he came upon Darson. Clad as always in his standard cloak and armor, he was carrying a big blue flag and a gun. The area around him was speckled with what appeared to be blood, “Hello Mr. Whitlock,” Darson said brightly, “You’ve interrupted me during a rousing game of capture the flag. What can I do for you today?
"I was in the neighborhood so I thought I'd stop by to introduce myself," Thomas said to the man, trying to make light of the situation and cover his nervousness.
“Well,” Darson said cheerfully, “You’ve stopped in at an opportune time,” he cocked his head to the side and listened for a moment, “My Marines appear to have run into a couple of obstacles in the form of dangerous booby traps that I’ve set for them…so I’ve got a couple of minutes. Here, have a seat. I’m sorry I can’t be more hospitable,” he put the flag down and pulled over a low crate for Thomas to sit on.
“So,” Darson continued as the journalist slowly took a seat, “FNS, huh? Settling in nicely on the station?”
Thomas nodded to the man and sat down. "I'm still trying to learn my way around but the people here seem friendly enough for the most part." He paused and looked around the area again. "I guess I should have made an appointment."
“Probably,” Darson said pleasantly. He looked around for a moment then said, “I have heard…from a very reliable source…that you’ve already had your share of friendly encounters. Is it true that you pressed charges against Commander Gabriel?”
"He was out of line," Thomas replied simply. He looked around the area for a moment. "Would it be better if I came back at a more convenient time?"
“Of course,” Darson said calmly, getting up and moving against a stack of crates. He pressed his head against it as if listening to it, “They’ve gotten through my traps and are heading this way. There might be some crossfire. Make an appointment with my receptionist and I’ll see where I can squeeze you in.”
"Thank you for your time," Thomas said as he stood up and moved to the door.
Darson watched him go and as the hatch slammed shut. As he stood there apparently alone in the maze of the cargo bay holding a gun and a flag, he chuckled to himself, “FNS, huh? This could be deliciously interesting. Ufufufu…” He turned back and hefted his gun as the first of the Marines began to come around a corner.
Outside, the sound of gunfire echoed up and down the corridor.
OFF:
Colonel James Darson
Marine Commanding Officer
6th Combined Operations Group
Deep Space 5
Thomas Whitlock
FNS Reporter
by Colonel James Darson & Arrival Thomas Whitlock
Post Details
| Title | Avoiding a Crossfire | |
| Mission | Interlude | |
| Author(s) | Colonel James Darson & Arrival Thomas Whitlock | |
| Posted | Wed Sep 15, 2010 @ 3:50pm | |
| Location | Deck 72 - Marine HQ | |
| Timeline | SD 28 - 1800 |
The Staff Sergeant on duty at one of the checkpoints leading into the Marine Complex perked up as he saw the turbolift at the end of the corridor open and a man stepped out of it. As he moved towards the checkpoint, The Staff Sergeant moved out from behind the barricade and called out in a business like tone, “Halt! Identify yourself.”
"Hi," Tomas said, walking up to the checkpoint. "Thomas Whitlock," he said, stepping closer and extending his hand.
The Staff Sergeant held up his hand, “Sir, I must ask that you stop where you are!” The Marines at the checkpoint raised their weapons, not in a threatening manner, but to let Whitlock know that he really should stop. With all the recent chaos that was abounding on the station, security was tight.
“I’ll need to see some identification sir,” The sergeant continued.
"Of course, of course," Thomas said lightly as he reached for his press badge. "Here you go," he said, smiling as he handed it to the Marine.
The Staff Sergeant took the proffered badge and examined it before running it through the computer. It came back a second or two later with a cheerful ping of assent that the badge was indeed genuine. As he handed it back to Thomas, the Marine said, "Everything checks out. FNS, huh? Who is your business with?"
"I'm looking for Colonel Darson," Thomas replied as he replaced the badge in his pocket.
The Staff Sergeant looked up sharply at him in surprise, and one of the enlisted Marines behind him guffawed before silencing himself, “One moment please,” he said to Thomas before moving back to his post. He picked up a transmitter and pressed several buttons before raising it to his mouth.
There was a crackle, then a response on the line. What followed was obviously one side of a conversation with the Colonel.
“Colonel, this is Staff Sergeant Elric at Gate Charlie. You have a visitor sir…A journalist sir. From FNS. All his credentials check out…No, I don’t believe that he has an appointment…Yes sir, I’ll ask,”
He turned back to Thomas and asked in a weary tone, “Do you have an appointment?”
"I wasn't aware I would need one," Thomas replied, "so no, I don't have one."
The Marine nodded, “I thought so. Thank you. Won’t be but a moment more,” he picked up the transmitter again, “Sir? I asked. He doesn’t have one…and I…Wait sir, does he look like a what?...Ah. Hold on.”
He turned again, this time appraising his general looks, nodded once, then turned back ,”I’d say so sir…Alright, I’ll send him in.”
Elric turned to Whitlock, “The Colonel says that you’re to be admitted. But since you’re going to be entering a base of the SFMC, I must ask that you sign this waiver,” he proffered it, “and be accompanied by an escort.”
"Of course," Thomas replied with a smile as he signed the form.
The Marine checked it over, filed it, then gestured for the reporter to come with him. He lead him through the complex halls of the Marine HQ, ending up at a Cargo bay. As the hatch hissed open, the Marine gestured for him to go inside. Clearly this was as far as he went.
As Thomas stepped in and the door closed, a voice called out, “Mr. Whitlock I presume? Please keep on walking forward. I’m a little ways in.”
Thomas looked around the area then slowly walked forward. He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting but this wasn't it.
As Whitlock entered a small clearing formed by a ring of boxes, he came upon Darson. Clad as always in his standard cloak and armor, he was carrying a big blue flag and a gun. The area around him was speckled with what appeared to be blood, “Hello Mr. Whitlock,” Darson said brightly, “You’ve interrupted me during a rousing game of capture the flag. What can I do for you today?
"I was in the neighborhood so I thought I'd stop by to introduce myself," Thomas said to the man, trying to make light of the situation and cover his nervousness.
“Well,” Darson said cheerfully, “You’ve stopped in at an opportune time,” he cocked his head to the side and listened for a moment, “My Marines appear to have run into a couple of obstacles in the form of dangerous booby traps that I’ve set for them…so I’ve got a couple of minutes. Here, have a seat. I’m sorry I can’t be more hospitable,” he put the flag down and pulled over a low crate for Thomas to sit on.
“So,” Darson continued as the journalist slowly took a seat, “FNS, huh? Settling in nicely on the station?”
Thomas nodded to the man and sat down. "I'm still trying to learn my way around but the people here seem friendly enough for the most part." He paused and looked around the area again. "I guess I should have made an appointment."
“Probably,” Darson said pleasantly. He looked around for a moment then said, “I have heard…from a very reliable source…that you’ve already had your share of friendly encounters. Is it true that you pressed charges against Commander Gabriel?”
"He was out of line," Thomas replied simply. He looked around the area for a moment. "Would it be better if I came back at a more convenient time?"
“Of course,” Darson said calmly, getting up and moving against a stack of crates. He pressed his head against it as if listening to it, “They’ve gotten through my traps and are heading this way. There might be some crossfire. Make an appointment with my receptionist and I’ll see where I can squeeze you in.”
"Thank you for your time," Thomas said as he stood up and moved to the door.
Darson watched him go and as the hatch slammed shut. As he stood there apparently alone in the maze of the cargo bay holding a gun and a flag, he chuckled to himself, “FNS, huh? This could be deliciously interesting. Ufufufu…” He turned back and hefted his gun as the first of the Marines began to come around a corner.
Outside, the sound of gunfire echoed up and down the corridor.
OFF:
Colonel James Darson
Marine Commanding Officer
6th Combined Operations Group
Deep Space 5
Thomas Whitlock
FNS Reporter