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  Discovery Gaming Community Role-Playing Stories and Biographies
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Ashes of Glory

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Ashes of Glory
Offline Manticore
02-17-2015, 04:14 AM,
#2
Member
Posts: 313
Threads: 33
Joined: Jun 2012

[Image: ZJi5U6z.png]


Fearless had moored up at Norfolk while their prize was guided into one of the huge drydocks for processing. It was a much-welcomed return home for the crew after the two weeks spent tracking their target in deep space - the gunboat was a cramped space for extended operations.

Lambert granted most of the crew a few hours of station-side leave before preparing to cross to the station himself. Lieutenant Carmen would remain aboard with a skeleton crew - she preferred the quiet of a near-empty ship to the bustle and noise of the naval hub, anyways.

In fitting with the ship’s nature as a short-term assault platform, few creature comforts were extended even to her captain’s quarters. His cabin was small, with spare room for a small desk and chair the only unique accommodation. Lambert had neglected to do much else to alter the room’s spartan appearance, only having placed two visible decorations. One was a small painting hanging above the bed, depicting the famous last stand of the Bretonian fleet at Leeds in the face of the overwhelming Gallic onslaught. The second was more personal - a small framed photograph on the desk of a young girl.

His eyes lingered on that photo for a moment before he snatched a datapad and compact handgun off the desk, shoving them into a satchel and whirling out of the room in a flurry.

Moments later, he took a deep breath in the weightless tube that separated his ship and the station. He’d always found these moments relaxing, just slowly floating down the tube in complete silence. As the opening at the end of the tube loomed, he reached his arm up and grabbed a red bar on the “roof” of the tube. With a practiced motion, he swung himself into the opening and landed feet-first as gravity took over once again.

He was aboard Norfolk, at the end of a plain corridor. Lambert turned to the marine standing motionless at attention at his right and nodded, then walked deeper into the station. He reached into the satchel, retrieving the datapad, and logged into the station’s ‘net. As he walked, he surfed through the list of most recent arrivals until he located the record for his prize.

The crowds grew in size as he departed the Navy-restricted section of the base and entered the general population area. He knew where he was going, now, and increased his pace by stretching his legs into long strides.

It wasn’t a long walk, and soon enough he was facing the end of another docking tube, almost identical to the one he’d just exited. He’d arrived just in time, as two men dressed in marine battle armor from the neck down emerged from the tube as he approached it. They snapped to attention, saluting him. Lambert returned the salutes.

“All squared away, sir. No problems to report.” Major Kason Wells was the commander of Fearless’s MARSOC teams, an imposing man whose sandy-colored hair was beginning to turn gray.

Lambert nodded, glancing to the other marine. Lieutenant Brack was the commander of the second MARSOC team - the one that Wells didn’t oversee directly. Lambert had specifically requested Brack’s reassignment to Fearless because the marine had survived Hamburg along with him.

“Good job, both of you,” Lambert said. “Head on back to the ship when you’re all fin-”

He was cut off by the datapad still in his hand, which had started vibrating and chirping loudly.

Lambert paused - it only did that when he received a priority transmission. “Apologies, one moment.”

He turned away, bringing the screen up to his face and opening the transmission. New orders, direct from the Fleet Admiral. He scanned through the transmission, frowning.

Operation Royal Flush, it was to be called. An incursion into Gallic-held Leeds, taking along damn near the entire Liberty fleet. Lambert scanned the roster of units and ships, looking for his name.

It wasn’t there.

He muttered a curse under his breath. He wasn’t about to miss out on this - not with so much at stake.

Lambert turned back to the two marines, who were looking on in confusion. “New orders - the fleet’s going after Leeds. In force.”

Wells wrinkled his brow in thought. “Interesting, sir. What part are we going to play in it?”

Lambert shrugged. “We’re not on the list. Get wrapped up and get everyone back to Fearless. I need to make a call…”
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Ashes of Glory - by Manticore - 01-26-2015, 05:03 AM
RE: Ashes of Glory - by Manticore - 02-17-2015, 04:14 AM

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