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Meeting and Drinking
Summary: Nort tells it how it is before he goes to get drunk on the sweet, sweet nectar of root beer
Cast: Lucius Tullius Castus Jeff Ryan Dirionis Callot Volouscheur Ace Swiftfoot Starchaser Gavin Louie Rukais
Air Date: 2006.10.25



Landing Bay <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.


Norton is seated on the footlocker, eating a sandwich.

Lucius walks through the double doors with a cigarette hanging from his lips, as yet unlit. He grumbles something to himself.. probably regarding the hypocracy of him smoking again and glances about, lighting it.

Jeff Ryan is just getting off a shuttle and the robes draw some attention from the guards until Ryan lowers the hood. He strides towards Lucius.

Norton continues to eat his sandwich which seems to be composed of a large collection of a variety of sliced lunch meats, horseraddish, mustard, and a bit of onions and pickles on three layers of bread. He is most definately in no uniform.

Lucius takes a drag from the smoke and spots.. well, it can't be said that Jeff doesn't draw attention. He smiles at the sight of the man and moves to meet him.

Jeff Ryan gives a sharp nod to Lucius, "I want you in the conference room." He glances around at the other guards, marines and general hub-bub of the station and at random points at Norton, "And you too."

Norton looks from Ryan to the sandwich in his hands before he shrugs and gets up. He walks towards the lobby and lift beyond.

Lucius arches an eyebrow but nods at the Brigadier General. "Um. Yes sir, of course. I got your PDA message, by the way. Don't know if you sent it to anyone else." Then he moves towards the lift, himself.

Jeff Ryan gestures for Dirionis to follow him offhand as well.



Meeting Room <Hancock Station> - Hancock Station -

This executive room is carpeted in a utilitarian midnight blue weave, with a large, round table in the middle of the room. In a hole in the center of the table sits a miniature holographic imager. A viewscreen adorns one wall, and a rewritable board adorns the opposite wall. A port-style door leads to the Command Deck.

Jeff Ryan enters into the meeting room that partially serves as his office, he's obviously been out on non-militia business, with /that/ uniform and he's obviously not terribly happily. Ryan takes off the robe and unzips part of the leather armour underneath. Laying the dark blue robe on the chair at the head of the table he glances at the three who've followed him, "I'm sorry.." It's a beginning, "I've let this situation fall through my fingers and it's possibly too late to try and put it back together before it gets out of hand." He glances at the three, "It's probably clear to all of you we have a civil war brewing. PANL isn't just a group of hoodlums stirring up trouble. They've got a large operation, popular support, money and the means to start tearing this little planet apart." Ryan shakes his head as he throws himself into his seat, "I've made some contacts and it seems there's more than just this civil war, I don't know what it is, but we have big problems. I want your thoughts, I want your ideas, I want to understand what the hell is going on before this train that's heading right for us runs us over."

Norton looks down at himself before he glances over at Dirionis. Then, he looks at the general. For his final act, he takes a bite of his sandwich.

Dirionis enters into the meeting room, looking rather nervous. He slightly paler than normal, and visibly sweating. As he stands in front of Jeff Ryan, he swallows hard before responding, " Sir...Is this place secure...? Is there anyone else here with us..?" He glances at the door.

Lucius walks into the room after and takes a seat, sighing. "Honestly, sir? We can't avoid this. They kidnap our troops and supporters, they attack us regularly with impunity.. we need a stronger militia presence. That, or we need to give them what they want - Jasper Point. That is, providing that they will stop at Jasper Point. We're training OUR platoon up as much, but we're one platoon in a group of two thousand marines. It wouldn't surprise me if the PANL outnumbered us heavily. We're underfunded, our newbies which comprise fourty percent of the force are undertrained, our morale is low and there are discipline problems. Once the proper funding comes and proper trainers can be implemented, everything else will follow suite."

"It's secure," says Jeff. "And if it isn't we've already lost." Ryan nods at Lucius, "I don't just want the military view, though that's valued and needed." He glances at the others, "Do you think the civilian government can deal with this?" Dirionis takes out his PDA, selecting a certain file, and reaching it our for Jeff Ryan to take. " Sir...I recieved this message on my PDA..."

Norton finishes chewing and swallowing the bite of the sandwich before he starts ticking things off on his fingers as he calls out 'item.' "Item one, we've got a paranoid spacer who thinks he's in charge of running the station and doing some sort of security screening that he doesn't bother to divulge while using PANL as an excuse to operate in an entirely non-professional manner. Item two, PANL has, according to the aforementioned paranoid spacer, infiltrated the ranks of the NLM. Item three, we have no such assets, known to lowly ol' me, inside PANL operations. Item three, PANL is organized and on the offensive. Item four, we are unorganized and on the defensive. Item five, has the civilian government even tried to deal with this? Item six, no one knows what the hell anyone else is doing in the NLM. Item seven, PANL is making us look like a bunch of jackasses. Item eight, we're making ourselves look like a bunch of jackasses. Item nine, the Watchers are making us look like a bunch of jackasses. Item ten, we don't have enough boots on the dirtside to make our presence known while PANL has the world in its pocket. What the hell are they doing at Greenville base? Just buttoning down hatches and clenching butt cheeks? That doesn't about cover it, but it'll do for now since I'm out of fingers."

"Yes. Like I said, if they get their act together and begin to deal with the PANL as a governmental organization. Unless you WANT a war, that's the only way things can be resolved. You need to offer them some concessions, but assert your own superiority in the situation. They signed the treaty unifying New Luna a few years ago but if they want to bail out of it, then they can do so. As long as they negotiate peacefully and abandon terrorism." Lucius replies, crossing his arms. He nods at Norton, with a sigh, but adds, "I agree with what he says, but I know for a fact they have someone in our organization. I'm not prepared to say who but I do have a name."

Ryan glances at Norton, "Why aren't you in an officer's uniform? I need more men like you." He's obviously not joking. He takes the PDA from Dirionis and nods, "Good, that's probably my contact." He then turns his gaze back to Norton, "All good points and I can't say I disagree with any of them. We need a stronger military presence, the Watchers are doing what they can, myself included in that role. We need to start working together." He sighs, "I'll speak to Seale and see if we can open talks, New Luna has grown, perhaps we should be looking at a confederation rather than one government, but I'm not the one running the show. I'll see what I can do." He glances at the PDA and then at Norton, "I'm doing what I can to get agents inside, /our/ agents. And I'll start bringing the Captain into line." He rubs his eyes, "I'm sorry gentlemen, really sorry I've let this get out of hand." He then hands the PDA back to Dirionis, "I assume you're part of the team we're putting together, invite only it seems." A small smile.

"Because I'm not stupid, sir," is Norton's answer to that one. "Only fools and egomaniacs _want_ to be officers. I'm happy training and leading men. I'll be happier if dopes who jumped straight into a role meddling with the affairs of professionals pull their heads out of my ass and stick to what they know." He shrugs. "I hope it's not that cat we dropped in the brig after the Jasper Point riots."

Lucius sits back in his seat now and crosses his arms over his chest, simply listening to what the others say. After Dirionis is confirmed to be on a team, he arches an eyebrow. "Team? Sir, is this eyes only or am I allowed to know where troops in my platoon are being assigned? This has nothing to do with that message you sent me, does it?"

Dirionis takes the PDA back, putting it away with a nod. He listens to the conversation, not saying much, and looking much less nervous now.

"You sound like a lieutenant to me sergeant," says Ryan. "Pays better an less people busting your balls." He glances at Lucius, "It's related, but eyes only for now." He nods at the men assembled, "We'll continue this conversation later. Thank you for your insights, they're appreciated."


McGillicutty's <Hancock Station>

An open, homey kind of bar and grill, it features four rows of vinyl-and-wood booths and a long wooden counter with barstools. The walls are of bright wood, and feature old photographs of various landmarks on Luna. The food is down-home and hearty, and the restaurant's signature garlic mashed potatoes are served with almost every dish. The bar is simple, focusing mainly on beer, but with some facilities for mixed drinks. A sliding door leads out to the Residence Deck.

Volouscheur walks into the bar, aura glowing pale green. She heads towards the bar, looking a bit tired as she does so. Diri is offered a feeling of greeting, while Gavin is given a more prosaic wave.

A shake of his head is all that is in response, until after a sip is taken. Gulping down the sip Dirionis replies, " Nah...Just this whole deal down on the surface." He tilts his head as Scheur makes her presence known. " Hey Scheur...Hows it going?"

Gavin nods grimly while offering up a little wave in return to Scheur's. "I'm sure things'll straighten out," he offers, though the optimism does not reach his voice. "What can I get for you?" he asks, glancing again at the approaching Vollistan.

Volouscheur settles down beside Diri, shrugging to both him and Gavin, ~Do you have any red wine?~ She looks at Diri, ~I'm doing alright - and yourself?~

Norton adjusts his extremely non-regulation hat as he walks over to the bar and plops down on a stool. He rests a forearm on the bartop while he takes a pack of smokes from the waistband of his shorts.

Dirionis gives a half-hearted shrug, taking another sip. " Okay...Marine trainin' tomorrow. You ready for it, Scheur?" He takes another sip of his Gunwale ale, before saying, " Hey Sarge." As Norton apporaches.

"Think I might have a bottle," Gavin replies. He gives a slow shake of his head, though, as he slips off to get it.

Volouscheur sits at the bar with Diri, while Norton has just sat down. Scheur shrugs to Diri, ~I think so, yes. We'll find out tomorrow, probably.~

A tall, dark haired woman, recognizable to some as the captain of the Faux and clearly not in any NLM uniform pushes in through the door, chuckling softly to her Demarian companion as she enters, "Is not a military base...is a country club."

The Demarian is just as clearly not in any sort of regulation uniform, but nods in agreement with the dark-haired woman nonetheless. "Nice setup," she comments absently, taking a look around the room before turning her gaze back to her companion. "So... we found the barr - what now?" The felinoid shrugs vaguely, her tail flicking.

"Civies, turbo," says Norton as he looks at Dirionis. "You don't have to call me sarge, big sarge, sergeant, sir, or whatever else." He sticks the cancer stick in the corner of his mouth and lights it up with a brass Zippo type deal before he continues talking. "Word to the wise. If you're smart, you'd help your buddy out of the toe jam she created for herself and let her in on the know how that I bothered to impart on you while I was dressed to kill and ravage and plunder." He sniffs, "Because, as all good soldiers know, the bad soldiers are their look out. Group punishment and all. It's a hard life and not even a good one."

Volouscheur offers a feeling of greeting to Ace and Swiftfoot as they walk into the bar. She looks over at Norton quietly, but doesn't actually 'say' anything for now.

Gavin returns, popping open a corked bottle of red wine and pouring Scheur a glass. "Enjoy," he murmurs with a sigh as he moves on to Norton. "Drink?" 'Sarge' seems on the tip of his tongue, but he swallows the word with Norton's reprimand of Dirionis.

Ace looks at the Demarian through stylish mirrored sunglasses, "We order drinks, of course," she replies, her Mierznykovian accent slight but still distinctive. She makes a sweeping gesture with her arm, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth, "After you."

The life of the storesman doing a run. Push a trolley around, and then disappear into the bar for a drink. Well, that's life in general if one's Louie. He wanders on into the bar, one hand tucked into his creased trousers, and the other scratching absently at his groin.

Dirionis hangs his head a bit in response, shaking it slowly. " Norton, we went over this, on the beach..." He takes another sip.

Volouscheur smiles to Gavin, ~Thank you.~ She lifts her glass, sipping at the wine quietly. Her aura is pale green, the female Vollistan seeming calm and content.

Norton turns his head away from Gavin to exhale a cloud of smoke before he rests the cigarette on the lip of an ash tray. Then, he tells the Gavin, "Yeah, buddy, get me a root beer and put it on my tab." He makes a show of patting his tanktop and shorts. "No place for hard currency, buddy, just smokes and my ID." Next, he looks at Dirionis. "Oh, so you already plussed up her military know how, hero? All right, I take your word for it, and I take it out of your mind, body, and soul if you're wrong, killer."

Swiftfoot blinks in faint surprise and nods at Scheur as the psionic greeting is felt. She nods again, this time at the Ungstiri, and starts toward the bar. "Seems like we picked a busy night to show up," the felinoid observes.

"A.." Gavin blinks for a moment, "..root beer." With a shrug, he steps off once again, this time not even returning to hand over the drink but sliding it down the bar to Norton. Instead, he remains planted in front of a few open stools, waiting for them to soon be filled.

"Fuckin' crabs," Louie complains loudly. as he starts wandering towards Norton, Dirionis and 'Scheur. He eyes off Swifty, and then Ace for a moment, smirking as he does so. Nothing is said, he's on his best behaviour... At the moment.

Ace nods to Scheur as she approaches the bar, settling on a nearby stool and waiting for the barkeep to finish serving Norton before flagging him down. "Am hoping you have vodka? Chilled?" she asks hopefully.

Dirionis scratches his chin, and says, " I'll teach her some stuff." He offers, looking at Scheur with a shrug. Before indulging in another sip.

A black haired pilot stumbles into the rooms before looking out at the occupants before giving a flat, rebutted look and heading for a chair of his own.

Volouscheur smiles to Swifty and Ace, but ignores Louie. The pilot stumbling into the room gets a glance, but not much more than that for now.

Norton's standard grin gets a bit wider as he turns his head in Louie's direction. Lifting the bottle of root beer in the corporal's direction, he says, "Sounds like you need to find yourself more expensive friends, buddy. They're cleaner." The grin fades not an iota as he looks to Dirionis. "No reason to sound so glum, chum. You were the one that was so motivated and excited the other day. If you expect me to squander my precious time on paper work, you'd better take some time well spent to spread the holy gospel of the marine corps to those unfortunate souls who as by their ignorant and self serving ways go about in the outward guise of the marine but the true mind and body of a lustful, dirty, nasty, malingering civilian."

"If you've got it, I'll take the same," the Demarian interjects, taking a seat next to Ace at the bar. She eyes Louie briefly, her nose wrinkling ever so slightly before she turns back to the woman she came in with. "Uh... oh, yeah. I thought I should say sorry, by the way. The picturre, I mean." The felinoid's attention is caught by the stumbling pilot, but she turns back to the bar after a moment.

Gavin reaches under the bar where he is standing and pulls out a pair of shot glasses and an already opened bottle of vodka. "You're lucky. Almost got cleaned out the other day," he smirks at the pair, pouring two shots and serving them over to Ace and Swift.

"Spaciba," Ace says, tossing some credits onto the bar as she reaches for one of the glasses. "Is good to see you again, Scheur," she says to the Vollistan, "Have you or the others had any luck finding Katriel and Brandon? Or even the traitor that is giving you trouble?"

Rukais sits down in his chosen chair, holding a pda that manifested itself from a pocket at some point between stumble and sitting. He stares at it at arms length for a moment, eyebrow curving upwards on one side.

Dirionis smirks and then tilts his head to look at the man arriving, before his gaze goes back to Norton. " You can count on me, then." The marine decides to drop the matter, standing, putting credits on the bar, and heading for the exit. " I better turn in. See ya."

"No prob--" Gavin begins until he is tapped on the shoulder. He turns to find another man standing there, and they exchange a few quiet words that end with a relieved sigh from Gavin before he, too, heads toward the exit.

Volouscheur doesn't say anything aloud, sipping at her wine quietly. Her aura darkens a touch, though, closer to matte green.

Swiftfoot nods and gives a polite flick of her ears to the bartender, reaching into her pocket to retrieve money as well. She pushes the credits across the counter and picks up the second glass, nostrils flaring as she sniffs at the contents. "Can't get enough of this stuff," she comments, mostly to herself, her ears swiveling to catch Ace's words.

Norton uses two fingers to sketch a salute with his left hand to the departing Dirionis. Then, he sticks his cigarette back in his mouth and sets the root beer on the bar.

"I actually get tired of it," Ace shrugs to Swifty, "But...is expected for Ungstiri to be drinking and I suspect they do not serve warm sake here. Now /that/ is something I have a very hard time getting enough of." She looks over as Scheur answers and frowns, "So...they have not told you that Kat and Brandon, they have been kidnapped by PANL?"

Louie continues on the approach, sneaking up behind Norton to wrap his arms around him, and a fondle. "Oi Norto," he greets, pretty much ignorning everything for now on. He leans in quickly to whisper into the Sergeant's ear.

Louie whispers: Got something for you... Colonel Tomson.

Taking a long drag on his cigarette, Norton looks over to Ace. He mumbles, "Thanks, thanks a lot. Glad to know random civilians know more than the military. Always comforting." Then, he looks over at Louie. He sighs. "What? I didn't even know we had colonels according to Captain Grapenut. I almost want booze."

Volouscheur shakes her head at Ace, ~No. They haven't.~ Her aura darkens further, ~They seem to have this thing for not telling first class privates anything. It gets annoying, after a while.~ "Don't get me wrrong, I like otherr stuff too," the felinoid replies, shrugging. "Just happen to be fond of vodka, especially of the Ungstirri varriety." Swiftfoot quirks an eyeridge then, head tilting to the side as she eyes Ace. "And since when arre you one to furrtherr culturral sterreotypes, Kapitan?" She chuckles and sips at her drink, turning toward Scheur to 'listen' to the Vollistan's reply.

Rukais leans back silently taking in what could be called the atmosphere, if that's possible on a floating moon station.

Ace peers over at Norton, "I make it my business to know when it is that my crew members are kidnapped," she replies with a shrug. "Is no sign of Ryan, Tay or Lucius I take it?" She looks over at Swifty, "In public, I like to keep up appearances," she says dryly.

"Lucius hasn't spoken with you yet, has he?" Louie replies quietly to Norton before sitting down. He then gives an irate grunt. "Blah, blah, blah, impersonating. Blah, blah, blah, flush out the mole." His reply is quiet, but still audible. Without warning, he lets his head drop start down to the bar with a rather unhealthy sounding thunk. "Should just give myself a full frontal lobotomy so that I'm on the same mental par with the rest of this room. Damn mouthbreathers."

Swiftfoot offers a wry grin to the Faux's kapitan, then eyes Norton briefly. "Not quite rrandom civilians, chief," she comments, then shrugs and takes a sip of her vodka. "I can see why you'd be pissed, though. I prrobably would be prretty irrate myself, given the same situation." The felinoid stifles a chuckle at Louie's impersonation of Lucius, nearly knocking over her half-full glass.

"That's great," says Norton staring up at the ceiling. "I'll give you a hint. Private Glowbulb don't know jack. One hand doesn't know what the other is doing because this is the military and intel is need to know. Very few people are in the clique." He just grins at Swiftfoot, "I ain't pissed, killer. I'm just saying. I don't know or care about either of the people whose names you dropped. If Captain Grapenut or General Save the 'verse brought you in, more power to you." He looks back to Louie. "He talked to me. Mouthbreather is my line, bud. I'll cut out your frontal lobe if you cut out mine. I get to go first, though, since it makes my surviving less likely."

Ace looks to Swifty with a wry grin, "See what I mean?" she says with a soft chuckle. "Is a wonder they manage to accompish anything."

Volouscheur glances over to Norton, noting mildly, ~She also has a name, as you seem to keep forgetting.~ She shrugs to Ace quietly, noting, ~And they discharged the Chief.~ A flicker of orchid wraps around her for a few moments, and then it fades.

Swiftfoot chuckles and nods at Ace, but the beginnings of her reply are cut off by Scheur's comment. The Demarian turns toward the Vollistan, head tilted slightly to the side. "What, Rryan, you mean?"

"Do half of these people actually have a mind of their own?" Louie mutters, as he rolls his head to look out of one eye towards Norton. "I hear wind exiting at a fast pace, but there isn't any sense being spoken by any of them." A pause, and then a sudden conclusion. "It's the realm of the stupid!" He snorts softly and then sighs. "Okay... Frontal lobe removal for both of us." He slowly sits up, and then glances towards 'Scheur, paying no attention to the civilians. "What about yourself sparkarse? In for removing part of your brain, if you haven't had it done already?"

After a while of semi-sulking stillness, Rukais ups and leaves with no apparent incident.

"She's got a job, too, but she isn't doing it," says Norton to Volouscheur with a grin. Still grinning, he tells Ace. "Yeah, I'm shocked, too but somehow we stumble along despite the best efforts of everyone, including ourselves, and as bad as we do, somehow you're on our station, and we're not on your space barge nosing around for clues." Then, he looks over at Louie. "Anyway, before we excise the problem part of our minds, you going to fill me in on what you were nibbling on my ear for?"

"Am kapitan of Demarian military vessel here by permission of Kapitan Taeren," Ace says, one eyebrow arching above the rim of her sunglasses. "My ship, it is off limits. And nyet, Swifty, I think she means Urfkar. He was dishonorably discharged from the New Luna military recently."

~She's off-duty,~ Scheur notes blandly to Norton. ~And no, I'd just as soon not have any bits of my brain removed. Iast got upset enough when I nearly jellied it that one time; I'd just as soon not see his reaction to my having bits excised.~ Ace gets a nod, ~Yes, I was referring to Urf.~

The Deamrian chuckles, then snorts at the dark-haired woman beside her. "mrrrroowl Mrrrerree phhmmmfft m'Mroowll PruurRrr PruurRrr Mrrrerree phhmmmfft phhmmmfft mrrrroowl Mmrroow phhmmmfft wroWall Tthhhfft raWll raWll Mrrrerree" " Swifty quirks an eyeridge then, and blinks. "Urrf was discharrged? Sweet Brrakirr, why? He was the mosterrerr gooderrerr marrine everr."

"It's not like you're using them sparkarse," Louie replies, before shiftly peering over the bar. With no bartender in sight, he leans forward, grabs a glass and pours himself a beer. He does, however, slip his free hand into his pocket and slip some raydens over the bar, and a bit of a bribe. With his freshly pilfered beer in hand, he settles back onto the stool. "Lucy-Lou wants you to wear some make up and make yourself a real pewty target. I'm your make up and wardrobe specialist, as well as acting consultant." A glance towards the Demarian, and then back to Norton. "Sounds like fuzz..." He peers back to Swiftfoot once more. "Is that Fuzztits or Fuzzballs? Well, its hacking one up."

"You got me all wrong, captain," says Norton. "I don't want to go on your ship. I'm just saying that you're here, and we were't taking pot shots at you, and you started knocking the militia. Unless you serve, that's off limits, too, hero." He grins at the Vollistan. "I haven't seen you on duty but for the once, glowstick, and you're in my squad. I can get a ten forty seven in quick enough to transfer you lickity-split to canoodle yourself cozy and learn mind gimicks with the doc if you don't want to be a marine anymore." He looks at the Demarian before turning to Louie and shrugging. "Beats me, supply guy. Sergeant Martian dropped that load on me, too. The name you chewed on my ear doesn't mesh with the one he laid on me, though."

Ace frowns, "Your military is chaotic at best," she says to Norton, "Not the least of which is disrespectful and, for much of what I have seen, insubordinate. Came here hoping to get information so that we might find those who are missing, but considering the attitude, not to mention the insults," she looks over at Louie with a small motion of her head towards Swiftfoot, "We are wasting our time."

Volouscheur just looks at Norton and Louie quietly for several moments and then looks away, saying to Swifty, ~They decided he was insubordinate, and that his motives didn't mesh with those of the militia.~ Again, there's a flicker of orchid, and she shakes her head, finishing the last of her wine.

Swiftfoot eyes Louie again, one of her eyeridges quirking upward and her ears laying back slightly. "I'm female, if that's what you'rre asking," she replies somewhat testily. "I can think of morre polite ways to ask, though." She snorts, then turns back to Scheur. "Insuborrdinate? I know he was stubborrn as hell, but dunno, he always seemed to like his job." She shrugs vaguely and turns back to Ace with a nod. "Seems like, chief. Seems like."

Louie peers at Norton for a moment. "The name on the uniform that you're using," he mutters, before slipping off the chair. He glances across to Ace, and then thumbs his nose. "Sorry I offend your sensitive little mind... But hey, you and your... Demarian crew member are the ones who drifted in here and started to diss our Militia. Sure, a couple of them could be retarded, dropped on their heads and kicked repeatedly at birth. But that doesn't apply to all of us."

Norton just grins at Ace. "Your friend is the guy who claims to be in charge of day to day stuff, not me, captain. You should talk to him about your improved methods of discipline and organization since you're so much better at it than us. And, you, apparently, knew from the get go we were a bunch of chumps. Why'd we know anything? We're a bunch of jerkoff military folks, but there ain't nobody with any rank once the booze flows, anyway, so insobordinate don't hold water in here." He nods to Louie.

"I could hope," Ace replies non-chalantly, "And have had my share of military experience, so I have something of a clue, da?" She turns back to take a sip of vodka, "Heard about Urfkar...was surprised he lasted as long as he did."

~He did,~ Scheur replies to Swifty. ~It's his methods they didn't approve of - he felt that the prisoner's safety would be at risk if she was held in the brig - so he took her safekeeping into his own hands. Captain Taeren...wasn't pleased about that. Nor were any of the other officers, I've been told.~ She pulls out a few rayden and sets them down on the bar, ~I might see you later; I probably ought to go now, though. I've got a lesson with Iast soon.~ Ace gets a non-commitical shrug.

"Can't say that I've any militarry experrience myself," Swiftfoot concedes, shrugging. "So yeah, maybe I oughta keep my opinions to myself." She stifles a yawn, then blinks at Scheur. "Huh. I dunno, did he have any, y'know, prroof orr anything? Orr did he just kinda get the idea into his head?"

Louie goes back for the beer, knocks it back and then returns back to doing what he usually does during runs to Hancock Station. That would most likely be absoletly nothing.

Norton just keeps grinning. "Glad you have a clue. Maybe you could fill in everyone else."

"Tried that once," Ace shrugs, "But the total lack of discipline on the parts of your soldiers...one in particular who has already jumped ship to join the enemy...made it clear that no one here cared to hear anything I had to say. The lack of willingness of most of your people to pay heed even to the most basic of briefings on a combat strategy was not exacty inspiring. Without discipline, any military breaks down."

Swiftfoot blinks and finishes off the rest of her drink, setting the empty glass aside on the bar. Her head tilts to the side slightly, and her ears swivel forward, but she apparently doesn't have anything to add to the conversation at this point. The felinoid looks at Ace as the woman speaks, then turns toward Norton somewhat expectantly.

Volouscheur shrugs to Swifty again, ~He had proof, yes. She was a member of PANL - and the evidence we had suggested that she wouldn't be kindly looked on by any PANL members who found her.~ She stands quietly, aura matte green. She falls silent, looking at Ace and Swifty, but seems ready to leave now.

"Where do you think discipline comes from, captain?" asks Norton as he takes a drag off his cigarette. "If you spot a problem, you got to take steps to fix it. If they don't know any better, the person who does know better needs to explain and correct the deficiency."

"Discipline /should/ come from the top," Ace says, taking another small sip of her vodka, "Not from anyone on the outside."

Norton just keeps grinning. "That's right, boss, and respect goes to the top not the outside."

Volouscheur just makes her way out of the bar, silent as she does so.

"Makes sense," the felinoid replies, shrugging. "Seems to worrk best that way even when you'rre not talking about the militarry. Least, that's how everry ship I've everr serrved on worrked."

"Then more the fools you all are," Ace sighs, turning from the bar, leaving most of her drink untouched. "By disrespecting those who offer help and advice, you lose out on a great deal. But...is your loss," she shrugs again. "At the time I addressed your men, was called in by the NLM to give a briefing. Was treated like an idiot with no experience by children who had no one telling them to behave. As I said...without discipline, any military is lost."

Norton's grin doesn't fade a bit. "We'll muddle through somehow, boss, but thanks for the advice."

Swiftfoot stifles a yawn with one paw, and watches Ace for a moment before rising. She nods sympathetically at the Ungstiri, but doesn't comment further, however.

"If you say so," Ace replies, heading for the door, shoulder to shoulder with Swifty. "Take what I say as you will," she says over her shoulder, "Is not meant in jest or in mockery. Is meant in earnest. Da svidaniya."

"I'm sure you did, boss, just doesn't mean I have to take it seriously. There are more armchair generals than there are armchairs," says Norton as he continues to grin. "Everyone wants to second guess the guys on the gound."

"Don't think he'd take Brrakirr himself serriously," Swiftfoot says, looking down at Ace sidewise. She shrugs vaguely, then offers a vague wave of her paw to the militiaman as she heads toward the exit beside the Ungstiri.

"Which is why I hope that you only listen to those who make sense," Ace says from the doorway.

Norton grins, "We'll see how many I can find." He sketches a salute as he moves two fingers of his left hand in the general direction of his ear.

Swiftfoot snorts and shakes her head. "Yeah, we'rre not gonna get any help herre," the felinoid laments, then shrugs at Ace. "Was worrth a shot, though. Maybe if we could actually talk with Tay orr Lucius..." Her tail flicks absently as she continues out into the corridor with the kapitan.

"Da," Ace gives a resigned shrug of her shoulders, giving Norton a nod over one of them before she leaves. "Will see what we can do with the information we have and hopefully we will not trip over each other on the way."

Norton turns back to the bar and lights up another cigarette before ordering another root beer.

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