The Marine Way of Things

Posted on Mon Jan 27th, 2025 @ 1:04pm by Lieutenant Colonel Shaun Bradley

1,241 words; about a 6 minute read

Mission: Terrorpin
Location: Short distance from Haumea Colony

The Archer troop transport was an incredibly dated piece of Starfleet Marine Corps technology. It was, as best, a box with seats and a cockpit, with the centre of the box being able to open downwards to deploy Marines. They had been used for nearly a hundred years in the same manner, and were regarded about as poorly as something so rudimentarily designed could be. There was little surprise to any of them then, than the Marine nickname for these had been "coffins" as long as Shaun could remember. Seated in the jump seats were a few Marine pilots, their visors withdrawn and a look of smug amusement worn almost universally. Standing in the middle of the cockpit was the Lieutenant Colonel and a gaggle of Starfleet fighter pilots. For his part, Shaun wore a look of passive uninterest that didn't quite match the slight twinkle in his eyes. The Starfleet pilots looked about the Archer with a combination of concern and mistrust, which was fairly placed.

"Okay Fleeters, you were sent here to help as part of the expanded patrol route for Starfleet to the region. Primary fighter duties are maintained by us for local space patrol and planetary defensive solutions, but you'll be part of system patrol. It means you'll need to integrate into our systems and deployment needs. It also means if we call on you for patrol routes in our jurisdiction, we need you to be able to integrate into our operations plans. So, Starfleet, welcome to your quick swap training exercise." Shaun allowed himself a short, quick smile, that was a little more devious than he intended.

"Colonel, are we flying to a remote trade off position?" one of the Lieutenants present asked, a Vulcan woman who was doing her best to look about as nonplussed about the issue as she could.

"Negative Lieutenant. A while back Starfleet saw fit to modify these old Archer units as mobile resupply centres for Marine fighter craft. Air, water, snacks, everything that a Marine needs to keep their patrol route going can be deployed from one of these bad boys. They are used in hard vacuum for also doing personnel transfers as well." Shaun pulled his helmet on his head and pushed a button to force the visor to snap shut. From their spots, the Marine aviators also pushed buttons to seal their helmets. Shaun walked from the spot he was standing, over the large central sliding doors, towards a console at the front near the cockpit. This did not have the comfortable LCARS display that most people in the Federation at this point, and instead was a physical collection of buttons. The Marine Officer slammed his fist against one of the buttons and the transport gave a wholehearted groan, as the doors in the middle of the floor hissed open.

"Colonel," the human Lieutenant of the group piped up, following his colleagues as they scattered away from the rapidly retreating floor, the rush of air pouring in threatening to steal the words from the sky before a forcefield snapped into place to reseal the space. "We aren't in hard vacuum, we're six kilometers above the surface of a planet, moving at what, four hundred kilometers per hour?"

"Your point Lieutenant Carson?"

Below the transport the telltale shape of a Valkyrie II fighter tracked alongside the belly of the transport, dipping up until the cockpit pulled in through the forcefield and the sound of mechanical pieces moving to magnetically lock the fighter to the transport filled the space. A hiss, and the cockpit depolarized and slid back to reveal the pilot. Without any hesitation Shaun stepped onto the shoulder of the aircraft, helping pull the pilot from it's place. "Thank you Colonel," came the thickly accented Orion Marine Captain's voice as she shifted to pull her helmet off. "I got her all warmed up for one of the Deck Birds," she added, stepping towards the other Marines.

"I understand now," Lieutenant Irring, Shaun remembered her name now. "This is a Marine hazing ritual, correct? I have heard you are fond of these." A silence filled the space, with the Lieutenant Colonel looking over at the four Starfleet fighter pilots. A few spared glances between the gathered Marines changed from grins to quietly trying to look anywhere but the scene that was unfolding before them. Shaun was a bit of a joker to the other Marines, they knew it, but there was something none of them particularly could deny - MacTaryn had worn off on him. There was a look he got when that conditioning of a Marine who was not in the mood for bullshit seeped in around the edges of his normally jovial demeanor, and many were reminding of the scuttlebutt around him. He's been shot down by his own Marines, a disease that had snuck across an unknown telepathic ability, and confused his mind. There are rumours of closed room discussions the Colonel had had with the General, and worse so one that a pair of guards had been ordered to silence around one a psychologist had had with him.

Shaun crossed the room, standing face to face with the Lieutenant. She was taller than him, nearly four inches, but at the moment she looked smaller. He reached forward and pushed the button to snap the visor shut. "Thank you for volunteering Lieutenant," he said, his voice oddly cold. "As I said, if you are going to fly alongside my Marines, you will learn how to fight alongside my Marines. You will train as they train, and you will fly as they fly." His voice was flat, steady, but carried an edge. Turning away his paced back to where Marine Captain had exited and stepped a foot across. "Entry is simple," Shaun continued, as though the confrontation had not taken place, though the pecking order was clear for all who had it. "You step across and jump in. I suggest not looking down since it's your first time. It's quite the way down."

They'd cycled through all the pilots present, a few times for some to make sure they had their understanding of the maneuver and could easily swap between one another. By the time the Archer had circled back towards the Marine outpost, the division between Marine and Starfleet had fallen away the the group was in full swing as a functional unit. A chirp on his chest caught Bradley's attention and he stepped away, grabbing his helmet. "Go for Bradley," he said said as his own visor snapped shut.

"Ops to Colonel Bradley, reports of a monster appearing in the middle of town. Requesting immediate Marine involvement." The Colonel held a closed fist in the air and the chatter died in it's spot. Lieutenant Irring who was seating in the cockpit waiting for the launch clearance stood, peering over the front of the glass at the Colonel.

"Irring, deploy for Haumea immediately, get me visual report on the situation unfolding." He switched comms from Ops, not bothering to say anything to them. "Camp Vimy Ridge, unfolding situation in Haumea Proper. Get me everything suppled with Ordinance and munitions. I want infantry on the way before I get there. Tell the motorcade to get the Chieftain operational as well, unknown hostile and it might be required. Site-to-Site for me to Command." Before the eyes of the gathered pilots the man disappeared in a blue glow.

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