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Barracks Inspection
Summary: Urfkgar goes to inspect the barracks of his marines, Jeff tags along as general busybody and translator.
Cast: Jeff Ryan, Urfkgar
Air Date: 2006.04.23

Landing Bay <Hancock Station> - Hancock Station -

This incredible chamber sports almost a square mile of poured plascrete, all watched over by a high communications tower. Most of the ceiling of this chamber is of a lightly buzzing blue energy, allowing ships in and out with a minimum of atmosphere loss. Cheery lighting fixtures line the walls in stark contrast to the otherwise utilitarian nature of the bay. There is a set of double doors near the back of the bay, manned by half a dozen armed New Luna Militia members.


Sun Apr 23 08:12:59 3006
A field kit is here. Contents: Exits: IND Saviour's Haste |MS| Military Shuttle NLG Outcast |IL| Inner Lobby NLM Franklin
IND Snappy Comeback
IND Harpaxian Storm
UKT Black Sheep
NLM Hobart


The Zangali scratches at his shoulder as he lumbers out of the Franklin with his weight gloves on.

The lunite, again in overalls is on a scaffold, with the help of a few engineers is attaching micromilled armour to the Haste's belly. The men are helping Jeff hold the piece in place, the lunite is using steelfoam to 'glue' them together.

The Zangali ambles over to the Haste and grunts and grumbles in Zantra, ~I am going to inspect the barracks.~

The lunite hands the can to one of the engineers, "You boys can take it from here." He jumps down next to the zangali, "Mind if I join you?" He's pulling off the overalls just as he lands, his usual Watcher military outfit is worn underneath.

In Zantra: ~I may need you for translations,~ says Urfkgar as he pulls a couple of diagrams out of his pockets which seem to have every bit of issued equipment drawn on them to fit in the staendard storage containers given to the marines.

"Can do," says Jeff. He glances at the diagrams, "Making sure everything's where it's supposed to be?"

In Zantra: The Zangali nods as he heads towards the lifts, ~I gave them the instructions three hours ago. It is time to see to what extent they were followed.~

"They're starting to listen to you," says Jeff following the lizard. "You need to reinforce their respect and fear of you Mr Urfkgar. Remember Seale's orders, don't /kill/ any of them."

In Zantra: ~Speak clearly, softskin,~ grunts the big lizard as he enters the lobby.

"Don't be afraid to hurt them Mr Urfkgar," says Jeff. He's not smiling, "I don't like to play things rough, but sometimes I've learned it's necessary."

In Zantra: ~I will hurt them when it is necessary,~ says Urfkgar, stepping into the lift.


Barracks <Hancock Station> - Hancock Station -

Over three hundred beds are bolted to the rocky walls of this cavern three high, a metal partition-slash-ladder between each of the beds giving some tiny bit of privacy. The floors are of textured metal, and gleam in the harsh overhead lights. A long, squat industrial refresher unit adorns the center of the room, with dozens of lockers lining the long ends of it. A thick metal door leads out to the residence deck.


Sun Apr 23 08:48:28 3006
A storage locker is here. Contents: Exits: Chief Urfkgar <IC> |RD| Residence Deck


Some of the marines are putting (hopefully) the final touches on their equipment in order to make it inspection ready. The Zangali just lumbers over to the first marine's bunk. The marine sidesteps out of his way.

Jeff Ryan stays at Urf's side, he can't help but inspect himself, but leaves the talking to the zangali.

Urfkgar looks from bunk one to bunk two, scratching at his shoulder. The strap on the lifting glove danging down his wrist as he does. He looks to the two marines. Then, he looks back at the bunks, shaking his head. While both bunks are neatly made, one of the bunks is made with hospital corners folded into the foot of the cover. The other simply has the cover tucked under the mattress. The Zangali casually flips both beds over. They crash onto the ground, knocking over one of the marine's storage lockers. The two marines refrain from any hasty comments.

Jeff Ryan simply glares at the marines in question, challenging them to say anything.

Urfkgar ambles over to inspect the second marine's wall locker, not bothering to explain the bunk flipping if the marine's haven't already clued themselves in. He studies the contents of the wall locker. Then, he looks at the diagram. The marine's gear seems to be placed in the correct places with the proper folds. The Zangali, however, pulls out the marines sock drawer and takes it with him to the next wall locker. The first part he checks of the third marines equipment is the sock drawer. He shakes his head again, waving the owners of the drawers over. It looks like both marines have rolled up their socks as per the instructions, but one marines socks are smooth side up. The other marines socks are all opening up. Urfkgar dumps both the drawers and spends a bit of time insuring the socks are mixed thoroughly together. The marine who has had his bunk flipped over already begins to look frustrated until the Zangali flips over the third bunk on his way to check the fourth marines equipment. He seems slightly mollified by that, just looking down at the indistiguishable pile of socks.

Ryan keeps pace with the zangali. It business time, no smirk, just a professional hardass face.

Urfkgar haphazardly flips the fourth dude's bunk before he checks out the boots, shoes, and flipflops lined up under what used to be the bed. He cranes his neck to check the previous lined up footwear, retreating to move a bunk off one set. Then, he kicks all the boots, shoes, and flipflops into the center of the aisle, shaking his head. He goes and dumps the wall locker while he's at it, grumbling now. The marine's do their best to remain stone faced, but their frustration level is clearly building at the Zangali's antics.

Jeff Ryan clears his throat. And his hand moves down next to his holster, still professional, still hard-faced. He follows the lizard.

Urfkgar lumbers down the aisle, flipping bunks two at a time and shaking his head. The marines manage to dodge most of the flying bed frames and mattresses. There are, however, a few close calls. The non-marines in the barracks, shift workers trying to catch their twenty winks or whatever, start to look daggers their way.

"I thought this was supposed to be a barracks Mr Urfkgar," comments Ryan to the lizard. "Not a school dormitory." He meets any challenging glares with one of his own.

"Stupid softskins no heareded Urf," grunts the Zangali as he walks along the wall, flinging lockers about and kicking footwear as it crosses his path.

One of the pogue, non-marine guys asks a marine at the end, "What's his problem? We're trying to sleep."

The marine (maybe one of the brighter ones) whispers harshly back under the cover of crashing wall lockers and boots slamming against the walls, "Shut up, go sleep somewhere else."

Ryan just shakes his head and pulls at his earlobe as he follows Urf.

"Do Urf do," growls the Zangali after he finishes trashing the other side of the aisle. He bends down, putting his arms between his legs. Then, he wraps his hands around the outside of his ankles. Using the limited mobility his knees are given from this position, he starts to wiggle his backside up and down. The marines, somewhat clumsily, follow the lizard's example.

Jeff Ryan stands behind the lizard, much as he seems to enjoy Urf's training sessions, this one is a punishment. And the lunite isn't the one being punished.

In Zantra: ~Explain that I am having you translate since they are unable to comprehend more complex instruction. Uniformity is the key to their survival in null gravity without oxygen. If they cannot maintain a uniform standard with their belongings, they will not be able to survive space,~ says Urfkgar as he pumps out more of the rump shaking exercise. ~Their mission is space combat, ship seizure, and ship defense. Their ability to carry out their mission is based on uniformity. They are not mission capable. They will never be mission capable without understanding simple things. This is simple. They are failures at basic tasks.~

The marines just do their exercise, ignorant of Zangali and looking a bit confused at the speach.

At the hissing from the zangali, the other marines' eyes open somewhat in alarm, not sure what's coming next. All eyes are on the zangali, so it comes as somewhat of a surprise when it's the lunite who steps forward and raises his voice, and it's high for the first few words before sinking back to a normal 'shout', "All right you space maggots! Mr Urfkgar has asked me to translate since you seem incapable of following simple instructions. In this game, to win you need to survive. To survive the key is uniformity. Space is a deadly place, no gravity, no oxygen, you want to survive in space you need that more than anything else. Your complete inability to maintain even a uniform standard in your barracks shows you're not up to the job in space." He takes a pause and glances at the zangali. "He says your mission is space combat, ship seizure, ship defence. Your ability to carry out your tasks is based on that key word. Uniformity. Look it up in the dictionary maggots. You boys can't maintain your barracks properly, you're not mission capable and you'll never be mission capable unless you get the basics right. Doesn't matter how beautiful the building is if it doesn't have good foundations it'll crumble. These are your foundations maggots and they're weak!" He glances at the lizard, |Took a few liberties there.| He's got the marines attention anyway, even between the exercise.

In Zantra: ~That is acceptable. Tell them: Failure at complex tasks will kill them. Failures at basic tasks will train them. Repeated failure at basic tasks will make them pray for even the most painful, disgraceful of deaths,~ says the Zangali. The exercise continues for about five minutes before the Zangali falls into the front leaning rest. The marines follow suit; although, there is a premium on uncluttered space to do push ups in the wreckage of the barracks. Urfkgar and the marines begin to knock out push ups.

Jeff sees no need to elaborate on the simple effective words of the zangali's next words, as they finish the exercise, he simply relays them word for word to the marines. They seem to have gotten the point anyway.

A good number of the marines avoid looking at Ryan, seeming a bit ashamed of themselves. A few of them are more busy looking smoked or angry.

After most of the butts are in the air or sagging towards the ground more than push ups are being performed, the Zangali starts doing jumping jacks, and the marines do likewise. Then, he starts doing flutter kicks, lying on his back with his hands under his butt while he kicks his legs up and down. None too soon for the marines, he stands, motioning for them to get up as well. They do, and he says, ~Tell them to have this fixed in an hour. If it is not, they will pay. If they cannot find a way to do it, I will do it for them, but they will pay more.~

"Right space maggots! You've got an hour to clean this place up and get it regulation. If you don't, you'll wish your mother never kissed you father!" He moves to follow the zangali, with the last word, "MOVE IT!"

Urfkgar kicks some more stuff across the room on his way out of the barracks, 'accidently' most of it goes towards the pogue's part of the barracks.

Ryan just keeps his head up and follows the lizard out the room.


Residence Deck <Hancock Station> - Hancock Station -

This donut-shaped deck is of textured metal, and serves as a common room for residents of the Station. Cushioned benches are bolted to the floor in several areas, and groups of chairs surround low wooden tables covered in magazines. Four food vendors are scattered about the area, selling a wide variety of cuisines. Indirect lighting bathes the entire area in a cheery glow, and potted native New Luna plants are placed in several locations. An extremely old-looking slot machine has been placed against the outside wall, and looks like it's still occasionally played. Doors are spaced evenly around the outsides of the deck, and a double door in the center leads to the main lift.


Sun Apr 23 09:49:56 3006
Contents: Exits: Chief Urfkgar <IC> |MG| McGillicutty's Slot Machine |MB| Medbay

                                       |BR| Barracks 
|ML| Main Lift

'One hour Later

Urfkgar removes his lifting gloves and stuffs them in his pocket before he returns to the barracks.

Jeff Ryan has finished off that beer and a spot of breakfast and follows.

Urfkgar heads into Barracks <Hancock Station>. Urfkgar has left.


You head into Barracks <Hancock Station>.


Barracks <Hancock Station> - Hancock Station -

Over three hundred beds are bolted to the rocky walls of this cavern three high, a metal partition-slash-ladder between each of the beds giving some tiny bit of privacy. The floors are of textured metal, and gleam in the harsh overhead lights. A long, squat industrial refresher unit adorns the center of the room, with dozens of lockers lining the long ends of it. A thick metal door leads out to the residence deck.


Sun Apr 23 09:53:23 3006

                                                                              A storage locker is here.

Contents: Exits: Chief Urfkgar <IC> |RD| Residence Deck


From the looks of the barracks, it seems like the marines spent most of the hour napping or more likely arguing about which method was best instead of doing actual work. They are still scampering around like madmen trying to get everything squared away once more.

"Out!" bellows the Zangali. "All marine stuff!"

The marines at least have the decency to show some hustle as they gather their equipment and break for the door, strapping on their vests, kits, and helmets.

Jeff Ryan shakes his head in obvious disappointment, "School Dormitory you have here Mr Urfkgar." He makes sure his voice is loud enough to be heard.

"Stupid softskins no Zangali," retorts the lizard, not willing to shoulder complete responsibility for the marine's lackluster performance. He waits till the last marine is out of the barracks before he starts to trash the place once more. This time he gets down to the nitty gritty, dumping shaving kits and the pouring shampoo into boots.

"Not blaming you Mr Urfkgar, you've only had this job a week," chuckles Jeff now the marines are gone. He seems willing to give the lizard a hand in trashing the place. The pogues are also getting the idea, dismayed they head to see if they can find some other corner somewhere on the station to sleep in.

Urfkgar cuts a couple of boot laces. His vandalism seems primarily focused on military equipment, leaving the marine's personal possessions alone. Scratching at his shoulder, he looks around to see what more he can do before pronouncing it, "Gooderer. Go train stupid softskins."

Ryan's own trashing is more along the lines of pulling things out of lockers, mixing drawers and the like, throwing drawers around randomly. At the lizard's announcement he gives a sharp nod. He can't resist trying to throw over a locker on the way out, but it just moves a little before he gives up following the lizard.

Urfkgar heads into Residence Deck <Hancock Station>. Urfkgar has left.

You head into Residence Deck <Hancock Station>.


Residence Deck <Hancock Station> - Hancock Station -

This donut-shaped deck is of textured metal, and serves as a common room for residents of the Station. Cushioned benches are bolted to the floor in several areas, and groups of chairs surround low wooden tables covered in magazines. Four food vendors are scattered about the area, selling a wide variety of cuisines. Indirect lighting bathes the entire area in a cheery glow, and potted native New Luna plants are placed in several locations. An extremely old-looking slot machine has been placed against the outside wall, and looks like it's still occasionally played. Doors are spaced evenly around the outsides of the deck, and a double door in the center leads to the main lift.

Sun Apr 23 10:14:26 3006
Contents: Exits: Chief Urfkgar <IC> |MG| McGillicutty's Slot Machine |MB| Medbay

                                       |BR| Barracks 
|ML| Main Lift

The marines are lined up in formation. They seem to have that bit of military know-how down. The Zangali walks over left most guy as you are facing the formation, and he moves them farther apart. The rest of the lines move to stay even with the guy to their right.

Jeff follows at Urf's side, now he's the henchman. He glances from the marine to Urf and back to the marine, he shakes his head.

Now that the big lizard has himself a few paths to move between the ranks in, he walks behind the first, checking canteens - a nearly obsolute item in the space marine inventory, probably brought back soley for training purposes.

Jeff just follows him, playing obedient lackey for now.

The first rank alone has two marines with partially empty canteens that slosh when the Zangali shakes them. After finding each one, the Zangali pushes the marine with the offensive water source to the ground. They do push ups. The next rank has one, the third has two, and the fourth has two. When the Zangali gets back to the front of the formation, he bellows, "Stupid no gooderer marines! Fixer! Marines gooderer! Do Urf do!" He starts to leap into the air, kicking both feet back towards his butt while he's up before crashing back down to the ground and repeating. The marines without full canteens hurry off to remedy the problem. The rest get smoked while they wait on their screwed up fellow soldiers.

Ryan follows the zangali at a brisk pace, the lizard does have longer legs after all up and down the ranks. When Urf starts his exercise, Jeff just stands behind him and waits.

Urfkgar keeps up the mule kicks for a good while before snagging a marine from the front rank to serve as his demonstrator. The marine is one of those who was screwed up in the first place. Urfkgar removes the marine's canteens and places one in each hand. Then, he grabs his wrists and holds his arms out at his sides. The Zangali gestures to the rest of the marines, "Do stupid softskin do." The rest of the marines comply hastily.

Ryan's still wearing his poker face, "You go too easy on them Mr Urfkgar."

Urfkgar snorts and says, "Stupid softskin want train stupid softskins? Stupid softskins no hear Zangali. Zangali Zangali smart. Stupid softskins hear stupid softskin. No need think all times. Stupid softskins. No think. Do."

While the Zangali and Lunite discuss the fate of the marines, the soldiers in question continue to hold the canteens at with their arms fully extended.

Ryan raises an eyebrow, "A valid point Mr Urfkgar, the job is yours after all. We humans have a saying, that which doesn't kill you only makes you stronger. Personally I found a lot of pain made me stronger." He taps his head, "Here." He gestures to the marines, "I don't see nearly enough pain Mr Urfkgar."

Urfkgar folds his arms across his chest and shrugs, "Stupid softskin do stupid softskin want. Stupid softskins hear stupid softskin. Stupid softskin say stuff. Stupid softskin do stuff."

The marines just hold their canteens, gritting their teeth as their fate is discussed in front of them without any value given to their input whatever it might be.

"Mr Urfkgar, I suggest we requisition.... three hundred bags capable of holding... forty litres of heavy material. You can continue with this just now I'll fill you in on what I have in mind later," he glances at the marines. "Makes me embarrased to be a New Lunite."

A few of the marines, mainly those in the back thinking they can be slick about it, start to fold their arms at the elbow a bit to help relieve some of the weight off their shoulders. The Zangali grunts and says, "Urf no know. Talk stupid softskin remphs."

Ryan's distracted by the conversation takes a moment to realise what those slackers are up to, he draws his pistol and aims at that shiny ceiling just so... The dart hits off the ceiling, and ricochets right where he wants it. Right at the floor in front of one of the slacker's feet. "NO SLEEPING ON THE JOB. MOVE IT!" They move.

The marine's straighten their arms, looking slightly butt hurt at being caught and a bit nervous about the random shooting. The Zangali catches on eventually and begins to prowl around the formation, shaking his head.

The marines not part of the shamming seem more angry at the slackers than the gun wielding ambassador.

Jeff Ryan prowls the lines beside Urf. Despite their relative size, the more nervous looks are given to the erratic lunite than the 8 foot, two tonnes of lizard.

None of the marines seem to want to let the canteens drop despite shaking arms. A few, however, can't seem to help it, and their canteens drop to their sides before coming back up. The Zangali spots this in progress once, and he thumps the offending marine in the forehead with a claw. The claw makes a loud cracking noise against the guy's helmet.

Jeff Ryan's hand rests near his now holstered pistol. Just in case.

The marine blinks his eyes a couple of times, just trying to keep his arms up.

The rest of the marines do about the same with trembling arms as the canteen holding continues.

"Stop. Do Urf do," grunts the Zangali, scratching at his shoulder. The marines lower the canteens. The Zangali takes a seat, folding his arms across his chest. As he sits, he brings his feet up off the ground, balancing on his rear. He begins to rotate his body left and right. The marines do likewise, but a few have some problems keeping their balance, sticking their arms out to prevent themselves from toppling over completely.

Jeff stands behind the lizard, keeping an eye on the maggots.

The Zangali leans back and twists about a bit. The marines do the same with more falling over as their position becomes even more precarious. Then, the Zangali sits up once more and rotates back and forth some more. The marines begin to look pained with more and more falling over. Some of the falling doesn't seem to be one hundred percent accidental.

Close, but no cigar boys. They're not fooling the lunite. His hand goes to his pistol again it's drawn. And fired. One of the faking marines gets a double-shot in the leg, "NO FAKING IT! OR SOON YOU WON'T BE!" He looks over the rest of the marines, now trying extra double-hard. Oh and as an after-thought, he yells into his commlink, "Medic to the residence, idiot down."

"No stop," grunts the Zangali, rolling to his feet. He lumbers over to survey the damage done to the screaming marine. The other marines seem a bit taken aback at the maiming of their fellow soldier, but they keep up the exercise - probably to avoid being shot themselves. The Zangali casually grabs the injured marine's canteen and dumps it one the injury before removing his field medical kit and dabbing at the cauterized burn wound with a cravat. He scratches at his shoulder before, saying over the screaming, "Stupid softskin docs fixererer morerer. Urf do stuff. No goodererer. Stupid softskin docs stuff. No talk morerer."

Jeff Ryan shakes his head and holsters his pistol.

The marine keeps screaming, so the Zangali takes a look around the deck. Not spotting the medics, he idly backhands the marine to shut him up. Going back to the front of the formation, he resumes the exercise and says, "Call stupid softskin docs." The marines all produce commlinks and quickly jam the channel with requests for medical assistance while trying to perform the exercise properly.

Jeff Ryan rubs his face, probably to hide his amusement. The channels are doubly-jammed as medics try to answer the calls and some bright spark is trying to get through to the marines telling them to quit calling. It doesn't take that long however before pretty much the whole medical wing is descending on the marine corps, probably thinking there's some major emergency in progress.

When a guy with a hover stretcher and a higher ranking medic arrive (the first of three groups), the Zangali gestures towards the downed marine, saying simply, "Fix." The medics load him on the stretcher and start off, with one of them injecting him with an IV as they go. The rest of the medics show up and look around for something to do. The marines and the Zangali have something to do, though, as the Zangali changes the exercise into Iron Mikes, taking a knee and standing before repeating with the other leg while their hands are on their head.

Jeff glances round as the other medics arrive, "That'll be all." The Ambassador gives his undivided attention to the marines.

The Zangali keeps the iron mikes up until a few minutes after the marines begin to falter despite their own best efforts. Eventually, he points towards the barracks and bellows, "Go. Fix. Now!"

Jeff Ryan gives a sharp nod and stands just to the right and behind the zangali, as the marines burst for the door, Jeff glances at Urf, "You're doing a good job Mr Urfkgar. I couldn't do it."

"Urf marine," says Urfkgar with a shrug. "Stupid softskin no marine."

You say, "Just a soldier Mr Urfkgar," says Jeff with a small smile. "Just a soldier.""

"No marine," agrees the Zangali, scratching at his shoulder. He begins to collect the canteens left behind by some of the marines in their hasty retreat.

"I'd better go and see how work on the Haste is progressing," says Jeff. "Anytime you need a translator. You've got my PDA."

The Zangali just grunts as he puts holes in the canteens with his knife.

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