| The New Captain |
| Summary: | Medals are given out, and Jenthson is promoted in unorthodox manner. |
| Date: | 2657.324 |
| Related Logs: | Related Logs (Say None if there aren't any; don't leave blank) |
| Players: |
 .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. |
Rows and rows and rows of men and women stand at attention on the flight deck, clad in space suits which serve as full dress uniforms to boot. Every last marine is armed with a sword and high powered rifle. Pilots assemble nearby, and the center of the runway is kept clear. Commodore Claybourne stands at a podium, flanked by Major Loflynn, Lt. Colonel Valentine, and Commander Fowler. In the distance of space, patrol ships from the 221st swing around the carrier, those pilots lucky enough to be deployed during what amounts to a military meeting. The rest of the carrier group can be seen drifting in space, as well, corvettes and other ships, larger and smaller.
Having just arrived on board, O'Neill had just enough time to grab her duffle, and find her berthings, before the ceremony was to start. And considering this is the first time she's been aboard the Majestic, it's no wonder the woman arrived panting. A moment to press her hair into proper place, then O'Neill took her place with other members of the Navy.
Aquilina dressed up. Kind of. He's not in formal uniform, but he does look better than the usual post-patrol wrinkled, sweaty flight suit. If only because the damn space suit covers everything up, lucky that. And his hair? Combed, better believe it, /under/ the helmet. Talent. He clomps onto the flight deck and heads for the 221st group.
Small, quiet, and unassuming it is quite easy for Reagan to blend in amongst the other Marines that are present. The young woman simply stands there blended in with the rest looking across the area with eyes that seem to be unceasing in their active weighing of surroundings.
Pickett, for his part, stands with the group of his squadron as they begin to assemble, in a space suit that certainly looks a little bit on the worn side. Apparently /none/ of Pickett's uniforms are parade-ground quality. "Well, I suppose the Captain's found a way to put the whole flight wing EVA" Pickett jokes over his suit comms.
Melia doesn't look happy at all to be stuffed in a space suit and hold to stand on the flight deck, whos every idea this was they must have been crazy, or really pissed off because this is not cool. "Why are we here." She mutters to herself, as she rock back and forth on the balls of her feet, trying to stop her legs from going dumb.
On the flight deck? Really? Pip does not look entirely impressed by the choice in location, as there is an occasional scowl from the reservist Lieutenant behind the glass of his spacesuit. The middle-aged pilot merely stands with his arms crossed, making a snide remark to the 1087th pilots near him, and then falling silent. He really looks like he could use a pint or four.
Gerson arrives from the Recovery Deck.
Gerson has arrived.
The young rookie, Kell, is also wearing the spare uniform he keeps for events like these where it looks better to have a not so worn out looking outfit that is kept neat and proper. Since this uniform isn't used for missions and general usage, it looks relatively new and well pressed. The young pilot does lok out into space at the patrolling fighters, wishing he was out there flying right now instead of being stuck here for whatever ceremony it happened to be. He was never one for pomp and circumstances, so standing around for what could be hours is never Kell's idea of fun.
"Could've at least warned me for a last smoke," Aquilina's voice mutters over his own comm mic. He shifts his arms uncomfortably in the suit, trying to roll his shoulders and failing.
Dressed in her spacesuit, Loflynn spares a moment to look over the rows of marines assembled on the deck. Wandering eyes float amidst the ranks of combat hardened men and women and she sighs inwardly. She waits patiently although she uses the subvocal microphone to keep up with a litany of orders and reports she is receiving from the special detatchments. «Keep the gawking to a minimum you lot… not at a flower show you know. I don't want to have to put the lot of you in kay-pee.» she chides the marines over their corps comchannels.
Foster is present with the other members of the 221st, looking around a bit carefully, at least as well as one can be while not moving much. He looks like he has some experience with standing still and doing nothing, though. Hints of a smile there for a few moments as he hears what's going over the comm.
Dante taps the podium a few times. Behind him is the vastness of space… the enormous empty void between worlds, made less empty only by the nearness of the Majestic's combat group, the patrol fighters circling overhead, and, of course, her ship's brave crew, assembled before him. Dante peers across at the assembled men and women, "At ease. I wanna talk about those uniforms each and every one of you are wearing. Ask you to ask yourself what they mean. About two hundred years ago, the Confederation rose from the ashes of the World Economic Consortium, of course. Took us on a path from corruption to glory. Lifted us… and today our human race spans so many planets. So many worlds. We stand, of course, on the brink, today. That uniform you're wearing. It represents honor, and bravery. And you can talk about it, salute it, polish it all you want, but in the end, it's all hogwash. What it really represents is the future of our species…"
Xiang stands at attention in the crowd, prim and pressed, alongside her fellow pilots in the 221st as well. While it can't be said she looks comfortable, she's rather good at standing ramrod straight and listening sharp to command talk. Her posture falls into an 'at ease' pose at Dante's words, but it still can't be said she relaxes. Dark eyes focused on the Commodore.
Pickett turns his attention towards the Commodore at that little tap, doing his very best to keep any traces of boredom from showing on his face during the speech-making process. After all, it really isn't polite. Other than that, he just remains silent for the moment, waiting for Dante to finish going through the little ritual.
How does one relax from not being at attention? It is these questions that can keep a man awake at night. As it stands, Jenthson just maintains his original slouch, watching the reactions of those around him, the pilots, especially. Boredom is more or less clear on his features, though the occasional glance at the podium would indicate that he is listening. He's just done with speeches. He's made them, listened to them, and more or less, heard it all. Or so his face would indicate.
Melia feels like a fat woman, in a bar full of half naked men. She's sweating she's bulky and man is she bored. She could have been getting drunk or laid, or both which order she's not fussed. But no instead she here in the frekin blackness of space with a thin layer of plastic and material between her and certain death. At least, it could be worse she could be stuck at the back looking an Corporal Joe Blogs Jarhead.
Foster moves into the 'at ease' pose as he hears those words. Expression turning slightly distant as he listens to the Commodore's words. 'Must not… fall asleep. Must not…'
Eye flit to a hair out of place, and O'Neill frowns at it fantly as she falls into parade rest. It is going to bother her if she keeps focusing on it, and she can't get her hands to it out here. Before, yes, but now, no. Instead, the woman narrows her eyes faintly, focusing forward, on the Commodore speaking. Only to have a few more hairs fall catching her attention again.
Aquilina's pale eyes wander to the formation of ships outside while Dante talks. Can't be helped; they're moving more than he is. He pulls his attention back somewhere near the end, brow lofting slightly as he waits out the rest.
Dante continues, "I ain't one for boring speeches where one or two words will do, but in light of events, I thought it was important to point this out. I ain't no Patton. I ain't no Reagan, and I sure as hell ain't one for talk. I just wanted to say that the next time you tighten a nut or a bolt on this ship. Next time work a console, or step away from a training exercise… and I mean this for real. I want you to, just that one time, look out a window on this ship, look into the vastness of space, and remind yourself that what we do here… what all of us do here, must honor our past, must honor our future, and represents all of us, from the greatest of us to the meekest. Wear your uniforms with pride. We are locked in a war with creatures from the stars. If I said they'd think nothing of killing us all, I'd be lying to ya. They think -everything- of subjugating us. Of conquering us. Of dishonoring who we are and thousands of years of history. Don't let them… You're not *all* going to die. But we will fall in what is coming ahead. Make no mistake. But for every one of us who fall, the rest of us will shoulder on…"
Despite not enjoying this gathering, Kell is fresh out of the Academy so all the nuances of standing to attention and then going into the at ease mode where his legs move apart slightly and hands laced behind his back, is second nature. The history lesson almost brings a groan out of the young Lieutenant, though towards the end, it does turn into a little something different that wasn't the usual spiel that is uttered at the various academic classes.
Gerson only catches glimpses of the Commodore, glad to be just another head in the crowd. 'Gonna have to clean the deck after they're done..' he thinks, then turns his attention to the speech in case someone quizzes him on it afterward.
This ship you are standing on contains two thousand, seven hundred and sixty kilometers of wire. She weighs eighty thousand metric cons. Her heart's been pierced three times in New Constantinople… To date a full two hundred and thirty men and women have died for the testament to human audacity you stand upon. Men and women of the TCS Majestic, this is not a war. Make no mistake. This is a contest for survival. It is the purest, most noble fight in human history, and we're gonna win it, because that's the sort of species we are. I say again, this ship is eighty thousand metric tons of audacity, and we're gonna drive it right up their -asses-. May God have -mercy- on the Kilrathi, because we sure as shit will not." He stares, defiantly, at the crew of the ship, finally silent.
Dante clears his throat, and turns towards the XO, and then to Loflynn before returning to the podium, "Would Second Lieutenant Kell Draygo please step forward."
"Cheerful" Pickett murmurs to himself, careful /not/ to key the communications to his suit as he does. After all, broadcasting your smartass observations on the Captain's speech would be a terribly rookie mistake to make. No, instead the Major just continues to stand and wait…
Melia just blinks twice at the end of that rather usual speech, well the start was kinda weak but she sure liked the end…."Hmmm wear a cowboy hat and says asses, I think I'm going to like this one."
Must not comment. Must not speak. This single need to open his fat English mouth leave Pip with a very determined look on his face, and if he wasn't wearing this uncomfortable spacesuit, he'd likely have his hand planted firmly over his mouth. Hell, it is better than implanting the entirety of one's foot, is it not? At the mention of his young friend, Jenthson shows a bit more interest, eyes searching the crowd for said fellow.
Foster keeps quiet as he listens, pausing a bit as Dante mentions Kell. Looking over at said pilot, he offers a half-grin, then goes back to being silent for now.
Loflynn stands with her hands at the small of her back and she sighs, the sound echoing in the confines of her helmet and she listens in part to Dante and in part to a report she just got about an overflowing lavatory on seventeen. She catches the look given to her by Dante and she tongues the microphone off and gives a slight nod to the CO.
Like most of the crowd, Aquilina is silent. Or at least not talking loudly enough for the suit to pick up. His eyes shift as Kell's called up, head turning at the neck of the bulky suit. Now he's awake again.
When his name is called after the long speech that was given by the Commodore, Kell is motionless for a second before snapping himself awake, realizing that it wasn't some random name but his name. He steps out of the organized group that he is in and proceeds as ordered, not exactly sure what is expected of him.
Xiang listens intently. Or appears to be listening intently, at least. She was clearly the sort to choose to sit in the front row during class back in her school days. Though her eyes do widen at bits of that speech. A bit more than the standard command jargon, indeed. Her head turns to Kell as he's called up, offering him said Draygo a small nod of her head and faint smile.
O'Neill desperate tries to pay attention to the speech, to listen to it's every word, to maintain her professional aire. By the end of the speech however, she is glaring at the strand of hair falling halfway down her face, out of place, and nearly growling at it, as well. A quick outlet of air, as the woman tries to blow it back into place, knowing she is going to fail, then her attention is to the front again.
A small eyebrow quirks up from the Marine Reagan, looking a little bit amused. As the speech is given and the award handed out, the woman watches in sheer silence to the reactions of the individuals that give, and get, the high honors.
Aquilina smiles a bit as Dante gets that award pinned onto Kell's suit. Moreso that the suit doesn't breach. He licks his lips and tucks a corner between his teeth, giving a short, sharp celebratory whistle into the mic.
When the Commodore begins to speak, Kell's mind basically goes 'Oh shit, the Golden Suck Award for getting your fighter blown up, greeeeat.' However, his face is impassive and when he is awarded the medal, he gives Dante a rather smart salute that is straight out of the training at the Academy, atleast he's putting what he learned there to good use.
Gerson sighs quietly as the commodore fiddles with the medal. So that's where that bird went…
Xiang doesn't whistle but she does smile broadly as Kell is pinned. More expression than she was showing than during the speech, at least.
"Good show, kid. Making ace, and the I didn't fucking die award, in one week. Good show." This is spoken softly into the Starfighter Wing's comm channel, with the assumption atleast some of the pilots have that channel active in their helmets. Not that there is any question whom it came from, considering the English accent dripping from every word. Pip's smile is genuine, though…for those who can see it.
Dante smiles to Kell, an action that seems as though it doesn't happen too often. He salutes the man sharply, and then turns back to the podium. He continues this process with a long series of men and women. Captain Markovic and Lieutenant Colonel Valentine also receive the Golden Sun, among ten other people who receive medals of one kind or another. He then stops and peers across the flight deck, levelling his gaze directly at Jenthson. The silence might be a little odd.
Now how does one clap in space gloves, or does one simply do a few hoorahs to make up for the fact. Regardless of this dilema, she simply brings her hands up and does a few little golf claps, she doesn't think a loud cheer or a whistle would go down right now.
Pickett would applaud, really he would, but that's a rather singularly useless gesture in the vacuum. So instead, he just sort of watches attentively while the award is given, snickering quietly to himself inside his helmet as he listens to Pip's idle commentary. Still, the Major seems to be all smiles.
Foster smiles as Kell gets the medal, unable to hold back a grin as he hears that comment from the English accent. Then goes back to listening to what's being said for now, keeping quiet for now.
"Would First Lieutenant Frethan Jenthson please step forward?" asks Commodore Claybourne, still narrowing his gaze at the man.
A smile tweaks at the corner of the young Lieutenant's lips as it threatens to come out but the young rookie retains his professional manner as his arm returns to his side after the salute is returned by the Commodore. Then he does the parade about turn before returning to where he was positioned when the ceremony commenced. After the next name is announced, it is now Kell's turn to grin now as his eyes looks for movement from the veteran Scimitar pilot.
This could be very good or very bad. Aquilina seems to be placing bets on the former, watching Dante's next callout with some interest. Brow's still quirked, waiting to hear. Wait for it…
"Why in the bloody hell are you staring at me, Skipper?" This is not spoken over a secure channel, but rather broadcast for the whole deck to hear, before Claybourne speaks once more. There is a furrowing of his brow, and a fleeting scowl passes over his face, before it settles into a more neutral expression…and with a much-suffering sigh, there is a slow, slightly awkward stroll toward the podium, and the Commodore…he really isn't good with the magnetic boots. "I wasn't expecting to be fired so publically, Commodore." A quiet quip, and he falls silent, standing at what more or less approximates attention, for Jenthson.
Another useless attempt to blow the strand of hair from her eyes, while maintaining her still position is given by O'Neill. Then the announcements of the awards are given, and O'Neill lifts her chin, just a hint of a movement of her helmet.
Foster pauses as he listens now, keeping silent, but unable to hold back a half-smile as he listens.
Xiang blinks at the 'bloody hell' and all that over her comm. She touches a hand to her earpiece, as if not *quite* sure that came in correctly. Eyes go wide now, slim brows arching. She's also unsure precisely how this is going to go. Her attention is focusedon Jenthson with a good deal of respect, however. And interest. Whatever's going to happen, it should be worth paying attention to.
Dante narrows his gaze at Jenthson. He does not look like a man one would want to piss off. How'd his eyebrows get so big, anyway? Maybe it has to do with the way his forehead is creased. He points an arm directly at Jenthson, "Major Frejdot. Take this man into custody!!" Wait. What?
The question from Jenthson brings an half amused laugh from Kell though luckily his comm system is off, the other half is shock and slight horror of what is to come next. This doesn't exactly surprise the young rookie though, having interacted with the older veteran quite a few times and he knows his antics. When the order from the Commodore isn't praise, but the order to arrest Jenthson, the words 'Uh oh…' is mentally made.
A quick glance toward the Marine Major, and Pip holds his hands out in front of him, wrists together. "Your handcuffs or mine, Major?" While his words come fast, and steady, though who can see his face(Those folks at the podium), Jenthson's face does show shock for a moment, though it is quickly repressed into one of his peevish, somehow cocky smirks. Back to radiating the been there, done that, act.
Having something of an idea of what was coming, Pickett doesn't seem quite so surprised as some of the others. Still, he has to play along, watching the proceedings with a little extra interest. It's all part of the show.
Loflynn hardly moves a muscle and only if a person stood at the right angle would they be able to see the extension and flick of a finger after Dante gives his command. <Go…> is the only word that comes over the marine corps private comm channel. She looks at the pilot in question with a weighing look through the faceplate of her helmet. Always readied for combat especially out in space, three squads of marines brought their rifles and a selection of them are given their orders. <Lance Corpral Melia… Private Reagan… take First Lieutenant Jenthson into custody for deliberations.>
Second brow arches up to join the first. Aquilina doesn't exactly look shocked, per se…expecting, perhaps, another part to come along with this. Sort of like the circus. His head does tilt ever so slightly.
Gerson blinks at the outburst over the comm. This is a little different. His eyes dart between the arrayed figures, looking for something, anything about what's happening.
"What the devil…?" Xiang actually says that aloud, albeit softly and not on mic. Her shoulders visibly twinge. She exchanges a sort of 'Wha?' look with the pilots near her, brow furrowed with slight alarm now. But she holds her position.
Foster's eyebrows raises a bit as he watches the happenings at the moment, as he watches the happenings. Shaking his head very momentarily, as he waits for whatever might come next.
Melia eyes go towards Jenthson, as he also called forward her attention going between him and Claybourne oh this can't be good at all. Or it might be who knows, she just waits with baited breath. When the order is given to arrest him she looks first confused then shrugs, as she called forwards she moves to one side of him as the other marine moves to his other so they can both take him into Custody. "Neither you get to wear mine." Melia says with a little smile and a wink. "Come on Sunshine, I don't think the Commodore there was too impressed with your little outburst."
Well, that's different. O'Neill remains where she is, despite trying to keep her eyes from widening, her every muscle wanting to jump in shock. Awards then an arrest. What in Hell did this man do?
Almost tempted to speak out, Kell seems to be at the crossroads of a decision. Part of him does want to speak up and perhaps say something to the beat of how this is all a mistake or the First Lieutenant was only kidding, but he doesn't know what to say. The other part, the part where the training at the Academy has been drilled into him, wants him to keep his trap shut since it isn't his place to say anything and he's only a Second Lieutenant.
Eyes shift between Melia, and Reagan as they approach, and Pip merely smiles at Melia. "I find that most aren't, Imp. But, I just had a marvelous idea for a calendar…The Lady Marines of the Majestic. You and the Major can fight for the cover." The Lieutenant really might as well keep talking, because that is simply one of the few things he is -really- good at. "I was hoping we could discuss it, while I'm in the brig?" His his commlink still active? Why, of course!
Gliding forward as well is Reagan, however she doesn't speak towards the prisoner rather simply levels her eyes upon him. Detached and devoid of expression as she steps forward to motion with hands towards Melia to indicate affirmation of the other Marine's instructions.
Snarls Commodore Claybourne with fire in his voice, if not his eyes: "First Lieutenant Jenthson, you are hearby charged with twentyone counts of destruction of Kilrathi strike craft, maintaining the cohesion, honor, and effectiveness of the 1087th Fighter Squadron amidst the loss of their commanding officer, and being the -ugliest- son-of-a-bitch I have ever met. How do you plead?" He actually sounds mad about this. About everything except the last part, which is just an insult.
Aquilina keeps eyes on the Commodore as the man speaks again. And snorts softly at the end of it all. One word through his comms mic, sounding most ironically approving: "Dick."
Melia merely raises an eyebrow at the Lieutenant. "She's bigger, I think she'd win." Melia says with a little smirk. "Oh trust me we'll have alot to talk about, you aint the only officer I've visited in the brig." She says then glances towards the Commodore, as he reads the chargers. "What, hey I think that last one is uncalled for, he's dashing not ugly." She says.
With the marines closing in, Kell can only frown at what is about to happen, atleast what he had expected to happen since the Lieutenant still has his comm channel open. But the Commodore's words only brings surprise to the young rookie since he hasn't had any experience with the nuiances of how this particular Fleet runs, back at the Academy it would've been the brigs at best and an explusion at worst. However, the way that the Commodore presents what he had in mind brings surprise to Kell before relief and then pure amusement as he laughs in his space suit.
Foster shakes his head as he listens to what's being said, from all the participants there. "Oh… Javlar…" It goes out to the other pilots probably, since he both forgets to keep the channel off, and has one of his little drops into Swedish. Following the proceedings again.
Pickett can't help but give a little grin inside his helmet at the 'charges' that are brought forward against Jenthson, just giving a little shake of his head. He remains quiet still, not looking to further interrupt the craziness of this ceremony.
"I think, Commodore…this might be a bit of a kangaroo court, Commodore. But, I suppose that I am required to plead guilty…." A pause, and Pip's eyes narrow slightly, as he finishes…"Aside from the last. I'll be forced to plead innocent, on account of the eyes." Gaze shifts over toward Melia, and a slight shake of the head."You go a bit far, Corporal." Dashing? Hardly. You've seen his ears, right? They barely fit in his helmet for christ's sake. To Dante?(And those other individuals who don't have their back to the crowd) he mouths behind his glass…*Asshole, Skipper. That is you.* Very slowly.
Xiang blinks, surprised again. She gives her head a small shake, to reorient her mind. She can't help a soft "Hmrph." Partially relief, partially just plain incredulity at the commodore. Off-mic, of course.
Now O'Neill's eyes DO pop open wide, both brows rocketing upwards as she watches the unfoldings. 21 charges of destruction to Kilrathi … What kind of MAN is this Commodore? The wheels in the shocked woman's mind turn, practically smoking in confusion as she absently puffs at the hair dipping just in front of her left eye.
Loflynn afixes Pip with a level gaze, refusing to rise to his bait and lets Melia handle the banter. She herself only waits patiently as Dante levels the charges against the Lieutenant and gives a momentary inward shake. She tongues the mike back on and starts reciving the strong of reports once more as everyone waits for the CO to resume his litany.
"The Terran Confederation Navy finds the accused guilty. The sentence is Captain, to be carried out immediately." Dante opens a metal box and opens it facing Jenthson. Inside are a Captain's pins, inside a blue felt and velvet box. "Captain Jenthson." He removes Jenthson's Lieutenant bars and affixes the Captain's insignia in their place. "You are hereby commissioned by the Terran Confederation Space Force to lead the Fighting 1087th Minutemen in battle against the Kilrathi forces. Congratulations, Captain."
"Well I be damned, that's the most usual promotion ceremony I have every attened." She mutters, going to still keep a hold of Jenthson, maybe she'll get to use the handcuffs later. Anyway Melia stands there, all marine like, waiting for herself and Reagan to be offically dismissed. Maybe they'll be ordered to take him to the First and Last, and get him drunk….
Foster shakes his head a bit as he listens, unable to hold back a grin. 'That's a death penalty if there ever was one…' he mutters under his breath.
Gerson snorts and fights back a chuckle as he watches the charade. 'Well, you either laugh or you go crazy.' he thinks.
"I hear the second time is even better than the first, Skip." And, for once…mark this date down on your calendars, boys and girls…for once, Pip executes a very well-done salute in front of one or two other human beings. A public display of a positive sort toward a superior officer? You've seen something unusual from the Englishman. Jenthson lowers his arm, and offers a grin, turning to regard the bay at large…"Don't worry, everyone. The world isn't going to go topsy-turvy…the Minutemen are going to continue teaching the 221st how to kill the fur-assed fuckers."
Aquilina shows teeth as he grins inside the helmet, briefly. "Fucking great. Now the bastard'll be even more insufferable, well done." The words sound anything but grudging, however, and the moment after Pip speaks, he laughs. "Fuck, he's starting already!"
Pickett finally speaks, clicking his comms just long enough to cough "Bullshit" into the unit after the statement from Jenthson, before turning to his squadron with a little grin.
Dante smirks, "It sounds to me like the 221st may need to put you in your place, Captain." He turns towards Picket, "And that's an order." The words are casual and low, with him pointing to the man. He returns to the marines, "Take this man to the nearest place with alcohol and release him. The rest of you… Dismissed!" He turns from the podium.
Xiang gets a laugh out of that as well, smile broadening behind her helmet. She clicks her comm on to say simply, "Good show, sir." As they're dismissed, she relaxes her posture (much as she ever does) and mills steps out of the line to mill about with the other departing personnel.
Melia nods her head slowly. "Aye, aye sir. Come along Captain, I've disobyed alot of orders in my time, but this one I think I might just follow." She says, with a grin, she points to two of the bigger looking marines whom come forwards, and if Jenthson will let them, they'll hoist him onto their shoulders and carry him through the ship to the first and last.
Loflynn switches to the audibles and salutes to Dante. "Yes Sir." She then turns and looks down at Reagan and Melia and smirks behind her faceplate. "You heard the man ladies. Take him to get properly soused."
Dante returns Jenthson's salute with a smirk and starts down the length of the flight deck.
Reagan's eyebrow quirks up at the statement from Loflynn, head tilting at an inquisitive angle but the thus-far silent Marine merely lifts her shoulders into a shrug and moves to follow the rest of the group towards destination lounge.
Many of the Navy around her laugh or chuckle, and start to meander out, leaving O'Neill peering at the podium a moment. She slips into attention then flicks off a salute, before she pauses as she lowers her hand. That damned hair again. Now O'Neill grits her teeth in a silent snarl at it, before she shakes her head, freeing even more of the red locks, before turning to leave the Flight Deck. She starts for what she thinks is an exit, then pauses, reading the sign on it, then turns and heads towards a door that seems to be getting alot of attention by those filing out.
O'Neill has GOT to get her hands on some better plans of the ship before she makes herself look more the fool and gets desperately lost.
"So, we're doing what I do -every- night? With carrying?!" Pip is completely down with that, and allows himself to be hoisted onto the shoulders of the jarheads, somehow managing to keep himself from saying something that gets his head bashed into numerous low-hanging doorways, and such. "To the First and Last! We'll see how much of the crew fits inside!" A shout from behind his helmet, with the comm-link activated, and he is manages to take on a quite jaunty position, like a sailor in the prow of a ship!
Melia goes to follow after the two marines carrying the newly promoted Captain. "Did anyone mention the first around is on him?" She says quietly tp Reagan. "Oh well he'll find out soon enough." And with that she strolls towards the enterance back into the ship. "I'll be glad to get this feckin thing off."
