Post by Scribe on Aug 16, 2009 3:48:40 GMT -5
The Barn
New Earth Colony, Gaia
Stardate: September 2165
"MA-CO!!!!!!!!!" came back a roar loud enough to drown out the noise from the colony.
"WHO?"
"MACO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
Captain Tom Merrick stepped out onto the field after donning his own combat gear following his departure from the secondary bunker to the sight of his MACOs arrayed on the field. Adjusting his helmet strap beneath his chin, Tom swept his hazel eyes across the soldiers standing tall and at attention in the compound ahead. Eyes facing front, they seemed ready, no sign of fear in their eyes because MACOs were trained to hide these things even if they felt it. For nine years, they had prepared for this very eventuality. Even though they had faced smaller skirmishes, little wars that cost them dearly, those had been elsewhere, never on Gaia.
For the first time, the MACO would be fighting on home soil.
Striding towards Derick, Tom smiled as he saw the trademark personal emblems painted on most of the chest plates of the MACOs waiting for his arrival. It was a tradition that originated here and had spread to Enterprise and the others stationed on Excelsior and Intrepid. His own was the image of Godzilla carrying a phaser rifle while chomping on a cigar. He looked at the faces, Lorio, Anderson, Jazz and Xandros, who were so damn young it hurt to think that their first engagement were this and in all probability would be their last. The young ones seemed to go first. Ren and Jamieson who were a little more seasoned, who might make it out and Derick who would lead them straight to the fire, right behind him.
He looked at Derick who offered him a salute and was forced to drop his gaze. His best friend. They had seen some shit together and not all of it was out in the field. Derick had watched his back in one way or another for longer than Tom cared to remember and was one of the few people in this world he counted as more than friend but rather family. He knew he was being sentimental but there was no way around it really, not when there were ten ships out there.
Derick Rickman was his friend but he had started out as a project...
*********
The kid was all balls and swagger. Tom looked him over and knew that he was trouble waiting to happen. The pad he looked at, the one containing the data, even when it didn't said it, read the same thing. Discipline case. Lt. Thomas Merrick stood on the deck of the ship, welcoming the new recruits and the tallest of them stood out like a sore thumb. The bruise he wore the side of his face indicated plainly, this kid like to fight and while Tom, never one to look a good brawl in the eye and complain about it, could see the kid like to do it just for the sake of it.
People were still talking about that fight. Derick grinned as two of his friends related the story to another friend, who'd had the unfortunate luck to be on duty last night. Shifting his duffel to his other shoulder, Derick grinned when Beth Dunn slapped him in the gut. "Rickman that was a fucking awesome hit," she said, chuckling. "You really stood up for the rest of us Mars rats." "Yeah, well.. the fucker had it coming," Derick replied, ego rising a bit under the attention of a girl.
"He was a prick," she replied. "Deserved it all the way..." Her voice trailed off as she noticed the lieutenant approaching and called out in the way they were accustomed so the group standing around Derick could snap to attention and salute. Being right handed, Derick's knuckles were stiff as he 'assumed the position'.
Tom's hearing was good as he inspected the line of soldiers falling into attention at his arrival. He looked straight ahead, paying no particular attention to any of the men. The kid was bragging about starting a fight with some fleet rat who had been unfortunate enough to make some comment of not understanding a bloody word of Marspeak or why couldn't they speak English. Lance Corporal Rickman, who was born and bred in Mars had taken offense and had turned the quite bar into a shambles, had him listening to Major Hayes who had personally radioed him to inquire why the fuck he couldn't keep his men under control. While he might have exuded a facade of calm indifference, Tom Merrick was steaming.
He paused in front of his men and proceeded to read out the daily roster, droning placements and jobs as if it were any other day. Only after crew assignments were meted out did Tom look up and growl, "everyone but Rickman get the fuck out."
Dunn glanced towards Derick but snapped her eyes front as soon as she realized it. Shit. Little did she know that she was echoing Derick's own thoughts and rather than looking dead ahead, he shifted his gaze to the LT. Great. Here it comes. No fighting...doesn't matter what we trained you for, no fighting. No sticking up for yourself. Instantly, Derick bristled, a mood rubbed more wrong by the tone of the guy's voice. "See ya, Rickman..." Dunn whispered, gathering her stuff as she filed out with the others. Derick nodded to her without taking his eyes off the lieutenant.
Tom studied the kid for a moment. He knew all about Derick Rickman. He knew all about him which was why he had tried to calm Hayes down, as much as anyone could calm that fucker when he was off on a tangent, telling him that men needed discipline and that those who couldn't toe the line would be out on their arse. Tom had argued, fuck yeah, he had risked his commission and argued with Major fucking Hayes, that the kid was a good soldier, not a waste. There was potential. Hayes had left it in his hands and made it clear that if Tom couldn't salvage him, he might find himself back in the ranks as well. A commander who was a poor judge of character had no business leading men.
"Rickman you're a fucking idiot."
Fucking idiot. And booze. Christ, this guy smelled and acted like his father. Derick bit back the retort on his tongue, though a sullen look crossed over his eyes as he remained silent, watching the lieutenant like a hawk.
"You're a fucking idiot because you managed to get off that dust ball that was Mars. You got out of the shit that you and brother were up to your neck in. You actually survive the destruction of Mars and get a chance of survival billions didn't get and you choose to do what with it? Piss it up against the wall because you got the fucking self control of a school yard bully."
How the fuck did this guy know about Jules? And what the fuck did he know about Derick's life? He didn't say anything; at this point, he couldn't. Not without another fight and while he had no qualms about claiming the other one, Derick knew better than to fight an officer.
Oh the kid wanted to hit him bad and Tom was actually amazed that those were lance corporal stripes he was wearing. How the hell the boy wasn't in the stockade was beyond his understanding. Tom took a step closer. "You think you're the only one whose had a bastard for a father and grew up on the wrong side of the tracks? Welcome to the world lad, your life is a fucking Shakespearean tragedy that's been heard a thousand times before. You think the world owes you something because your dad beat the shit out of you? I got news for you, no one gives a fuck. The only person that gets off on that little piece of information is you and it's not even a good excuse."
Derick met Lt. Merrick's eyes easily, with a hardness that didn't belong on a 19 year-old kid's face.
A tick appeared in his jaw as Derick stood there, able to smell the alcohol coming off this guy. Yeah, he'd gone full fucking circle. This guy would probably be an ass just like his father.
"I've used the excuse Rickman," Tom looked at him. "I've used it and found that it carries fuck all weight in the scheme of things. You can be a bruiser all your life and turn out like that asshole you're trying to outrun by showing everyone how fucking tough you really are. Or you can actually try and be a better man than he was. I don't want to throw your arse out. I happen to think that once you pull your head out of it, you might turn out to be a bloody decent soldier instead of a thug. However, don't mistake my sentimentality for weakness, I will cut you loose."
The Lt.'s rant had started out like Thom Rickman, but it had ended in Charlie...and confusion that was born across Derick's face as the retort he had ready died on his tongue. He didn't say anything for a moment. "Permission to speak freely, sir?" he said, voice quiet as he processed the Lieutenant's speech.
"Go ahead," Tom said expecting nothing.
Derick nodded once. "What do you mean, you've used the excuse?" he asked, the sullenness leaving his eyes and turning to genuine curiosity. Derick had yet to meet anyone whose father had done what Thom Rickman had and usually when people tried to sympathize, they couldn't get anywhere close.
"You think you're the only person with a father who drank a lot and decide that if he couldn't hit his wife, he'd hit you?" Tom returned his gaze. "Brace yourself, you're not. I've been there."
"He didn't just hit us," Derick replied reflexively but bit back the rest, not expecting to find common ground with this man. Maybe he did know.
"They never just 'hit' you," Tom met the kid's gaze. "They bleed you a little everyday, until you don't know anything else and you become what you hate. A lot of times it sneaks up on you and things you think are your choice aren't yours at all, you're just following his footsteps. I'm not here to making fucking speeches. I'm no bloody good at it and I'm the last person to take moral high ground on anything. All I can tell you is, you have a choice to be somebody better than the son of a bitch that sired you but that means letting go of that chip on your shoulder. There's plenty of things waiting to fuck you over in life, no bloody sense adding what's past to it."
Nodding, Derick remained silent for another minute, another question starting a slow burn in him. This guy... he told it like it was, which Derick appreciated and yeah, he'd busted up a bar in defense of his 'honor'. A stupid excuse and Derick knew it, deep down. Still, it had felt good to deck that asshole; a month's worth of temper checking finally released. He sighed and nodded once more. "You think..." His accent was rather heavy on those words. The lieutenant had no ulterior motive here. Lt. Merrick had made that clear. He wasn't going to kiss Der's ass and tell him what he wanted to hear and on the flip side, the lieutenant wouldn't take any shit off him and would tell Derick straight up, how it was. "You think I could be good?" he asked quietly.
"I think you're not a fuck up," Tom said simply.
That would do. "Yes, sir...for the record, sir. I tried to walk away last night," Derick said. That had been weighing on his mind since Merrick had started this conversation with that fight.
"I read the report," Tom remarked with the barest hint of amusement in his eyes, even if it did not make it into a smile. "You're a MACO for fuck sake who's as big as a house, I think next time you can put down a Fleet rat without breaking several bones."
"Who knew the fucker had weak bones...," Derick muttered before nodding again. "Yes, sir. I'll try harder... less harder next time."
"Do that or its both our arses," Tom replied, hoping that conveyed just how much confidence he had in the kid.
Derick didn't answer right away because that answer wasn't what he'd expected. Not the word 'both' because that implied that the LT had gone to bat for him. Why? Lt. Merrick didn't even know him, didn't even know what kind of person he was or how good he was on the field. Sure, he had a service record but that rarely told anyone about character and trustworthiness. Trust. Why was he putting his trust in a lance corporal barely out of boot camp that, by all means, didn't deserve it? "Yes, sir," Derick replied finally, too well trained to shift in his confusion. People didn't stand up for other people where he came from. Well, a few did but that kind of trust was earned through years of sweat, tears and blood. Not off the bat. "I will."
"Good," Tom nodded aware that his remark had some effect on the kid. "I've got a lead on some power packs we can modify for our phase rifles on Aldebraan 3, I'm going down there in one hour to do some trading. You're coming me," he remarked with a grin. "since you have so much experience in bar room etiquette."
"Right up my alley, sir," Derick replied, returning the smile. "Civilian clothes, sir?"
"Yep," Tom nodded starting to move, "the bastard doing the trade is an Orion. Lovely women but the men will soon as slit your throat if they can cheat you out of your money."
"Orions can be alright, as long as you don't expect much," Derick replied, thinking back to the couple that did business with Charlie. "And the women are incredible." Oh. Hell. Yes. Shit-eating grin time.
"Well watch my back," Tom retorted as they went through the door and paused, "and if we have a spare hour, we might see what we can do about chasing down some of that tail. Man can't live on work alone."
"Consider it done," Derick replied, meaning the back watching. Hey, this guy had stuck up for him so he couldn't be all-bad. Maybe a little heavy on the alcohol but he couldn't be all bad.
********
And he hadn't stopped. Not after all these years. How many times had the kid dragged him out of bars when he was faced down drunk? How bar fights did get he pulled out of? How many times he had been 'retrieved' from seedy dives when Starfleet security had been called in to handle the drunk and disorderly which he almost always was? Derick had apologized for putting him on the spot for keeping quiet about McRae. What else could Tom do? If it wasn't for Derick, he would have been out on his arse years ago. He was here because Derick had watched his back.
"Good job Gunny," Tom returned the salute, meeting Derick's gaze and turned to the troops.
"Not gonna blow any smoke up your arse or give you any of that 'need to know shit'. The situation is this, we have ten Klingon warships of differing strength approaching orbit if they're not already here. They haven't made their intentions known but they have destroyed our stellar proximity detectors and are our jamming our off world communications. That says to me, that they're planning to start a fight. Evacuation procedures have been put into place but the fact of the matter is, we're not going to get the civvies out before what we estimate to be somewhere under a thousand warriors get here and they will come here. Klingons like to think that seeing the enemy face to face is the honorable way to fight. So," he shifted his gaze Derick and then at the troops.
"We're going to make them bleed for every fucking square inch of ground they try to take! So what are we going to do, MAKE THEM BLEED?"
"YES SIR!"
"FUCKING RIGHT," Tom shouted back. "You see an ugly you fry the fucker. Take no prisoners and no warning shots. Set your phase rifles for kill and take them out any way necessary. The fuckers like to talk about honour but they're willing to attack a civilian colony so what do we say that?"
"FUCK 'EM!" Came the traditional response.
"GOOD!" Tom concluded and turned Derick, "alright Gunny, let's saddle up."
New Earth Colony, Gaia
Stardate: September 2165
"MA-CO!!!!!!!!!" came back a roar loud enough to drown out the noise from the colony.
"WHO?"
"MACO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
Captain Tom Merrick stepped out onto the field after donning his own combat gear following his departure from the secondary bunker to the sight of his MACOs arrayed on the field. Adjusting his helmet strap beneath his chin, Tom swept his hazel eyes across the soldiers standing tall and at attention in the compound ahead. Eyes facing front, they seemed ready, no sign of fear in their eyes because MACOs were trained to hide these things even if they felt it. For nine years, they had prepared for this very eventuality. Even though they had faced smaller skirmishes, little wars that cost them dearly, those had been elsewhere, never on Gaia.
For the first time, the MACO would be fighting on home soil.
Striding towards Derick, Tom smiled as he saw the trademark personal emblems painted on most of the chest plates of the MACOs waiting for his arrival. It was a tradition that originated here and had spread to Enterprise and the others stationed on Excelsior and Intrepid. His own was the image of Godzilla carrying a phaser rifle while chomping on a cigar. He looked at the faces, Lorio, Anderson, Jazz and Xandros, who were so damn young it hurt to think that their first engagement were this and in all probability would be their last. The young ones seemed to go first. Ren and Jamieson who were a little more seasoned, who might make it out and Derick who would lead them straight to the fire, right behind him.
He looked at Derick who offered him a salute and was forced to drop his gaze. His best friend. They had seen some shit together and not all of it was out in the field. Derick had watched his back in one way or another for longer than Tom cared to remember and was one of the few people in this world he counted as more than friend but rather family. He knew he was being sentimental but there was no way around it really, not when there were ten ships out there.
Derick Rickman was his friend but he had started out as a project...
*********
The kid was all balls and swagger. Tom looked him over and knew that he was trouble waiting to happen. The pad he looked at, the one containing the data, even when it didn't said it, read the same thing. Discipline case. Lt. Thomas Merrick stood on the deck of the ship, welcoming the new recruits and the tallest of them stood out like a sore thumb. The bruise he wore the side of his face indicated plainly, this kid like to fight and while Tom, never one to look a good brawl in the eye and complain about it, could see the kid like to do it just for the sake of it.
People were still talking about that fight. Derick grinned as two of his friends related the story to another friend, who'd had the unfortunate luck to be on duty last night. Shifting his duffel to his other shoulder, Derick grinned when Beth Dunn slapped him in the gut. "Rickman that was a fucking awesome hit," she said, chuckling. "You really stood up for the rest of us Mars rats." "Yeah, well.. the fucker had it coming," Derick replied, ego rising a bit under the attention of a girl.
"He was a prick," she replied. "Deserved it all the way..." Her voice trailed off as she noticed the lieutenant approaching and called out in the way they were accustomed so the group standing around Derick could snap to attention and salute. Being right handed, Derick's knuckles were stiff as he 'assumed the position'.
Tom's hearing was good as he inspected the line of soldiers falling into attention at his arrival. He looked straight ahead, paying no particular attention to any of the men. The kid was bragging about starting a fight with some fleet rat who had been unfortunate enough to make some comment of not understanding a bloody word of Marspeak or why couldn't they speak English. Lance Corporal Rickman, who was born and bred in Mars had taken offense and had turned the quite bar into a shambles, had him listening to Major Hayes who had personally radioed him to inquire why the fuck he couldn't keep his men under control. While he might have exuded a facade of calm indifference, Tom Merrick was steaming.
He paused in front of his men and proceeded to read out the daily roster, droning placements and jobs as if it were any other day. Only after crew assignments were meted out did Tom look up and growl, "everyone but Rickman get the fuck out."
Dunn glanced towards Derick but snapped her eyes front as soon as she realized it. Shit. Little did she know that she was echoing Derick's own thoughts and rather than looking dead ahead, he shifted his gaze to the LT. Great. Here it comes. No fighting...doesn't matter what we trained you for, no fighting. No sticking up for yourself. Instantly, Derick bristled, a mood rubbed more wrong by the tone of the guy's voice. "See ya, Rickman..." Dunn whispered, gathering her stuff as she filed out with the others. Derick nodded to her without taking his eyes off the lieutenant.
Tom studied the kid for a moment. He knew all about Derick Rickman. He knew all about him which was why he had tried to calm Hayes down, as much as anyone could calm that fucker when he was off on a tangent, telling him that men needed discipline and that those who couldn't toe the line would be out on their arse. Tom had argued, fuck yeah, he had risked his commission and argued with Major fucking Hayes, that the kid was a good soldier, not a waste. There was potential. Hayes had left it in his hands and made it clear that if Tom couldn't salvage him, he might find himself back in the ranks as well. A commander who was a poor judge of character had no business leading men.
"Rickman you're a fucking idiot."
Fucking idiot. And booze. Christ, this guy smelled and acted like his father. Derick bit back the retort on his tongue, though a sullen look crossed over his eyes as he remained silent, watching the lieutenant like a hawk.
"You're a fucking idiot because you managed to get off that dust ball that was Mars. You got out of the shit that you and brother were up to your neck in. You actually survive the destruction of Mars and get a chance of survival billions didn't get and you choose to do what with it? Piss it up against the wall because you got the fucking self control of a school yard bully."
How the fuck did this guy know about Jules? And what the fuck did he know about Derick's life? He didn't say anything; at this point, he couldn't. Not without another fight and while he had no qualms about claiming the other one, Derick knew better than to fight an officer.
Oh the kid wanted to hit him bad and Tom was actually amazed that those were lance corporal stripes he was wearing. How the hell the boy wasn't in the stockade was beyond his understanding. Tom took a step closer. "You think you're the only one whose had a bastard for a father and grew up on the wrong side of the tracks? Welcome to the world lad, your life is a fucking Shakespearean tragedy that's been heard a thousand times before. You think the world owes you something because your dad beat the shit out of you? I got news for you, no one gives a fuck. The only person that gets off on that little piece of information is you and it's not even a good excuse."
Derick met Lt. Merrick's eyes easily, with a hardness that didn't belong on a 19 year-old kid's face.
A tick appeared in his jaw as Derick stood there, able to smell the alcohol coming off this guy. Yeah, he'd gone full fucking circle. This guy would probably be an ass just like his father.
"I've used the excuse Rickman," Tom looked at him. "I've used it and found that it carries fuck all weight in the scheme of things. You can be a bruiser all your life and turn out like that asshole you're trying to outrun by showing everyone how fucking tough you really are. Or you can actually try and be a better man than he was. I don't want to throw your arse out. I happen to think that once you pull your head out of it, you might turn out to be a bloody decent soldier instead of a thug. However, don't mistake my sentimentality for weakness, I will cut you loose."
The Lt.'s rant had started out like Thom Rickman, but it had ended in Charlie...and confusion that was born across Derick's face as the retort he had ready died on his tongue. He didn't say anything for a moment. "Permission to speak freely, sir?" he said, voice quiet as he processed the Lieutenant's speech.
"Go ahead," Tom said expecting nothing.
Derick nodded once. "What do you mean, you've used the excuse?" he asked, the sullenness leaving his eyes and turning to genuine curiosity. Derick had yet to meet anyone whose father had done what Thom Rickman had and usually when people tried to sympathize, they couldn't get anywhere close.
"You think you're the only person with a father who drank a lot and decide that if he couldn't hit his wife, he'd hit you?" Tom returned his gaze. "Brace yourself, you're not. I've been there."
"He didn't just hit us," Derick replied reflexively but bit back the rest, not expecting to find common ground with this man. Maybe he did know.
"They never just 'hit' you," Tom met the kid's gaze. "They bleed you a little everyday, until you don't know anything else and you become what you hate. A lot of times it sneaks up on you and things you think are your choice aren't yours at all, you're just following his footsteps. I'm not here to making fucking speeches. I'm no bloody good at it and I'm the last person to take moral high ground on anything. All I can tell you is, you have a choice to be somebody better than the son of a bitch that sired you but that means letting go of that chip on your shoulder. There's plenty of things waiting to fuck you over in life, no bloody sense adding what's past to it."
Nodding, Derick remained silent for another minute, another question starting a slow burn in him. This guy... he told it like it was, which Derick appreciated and yeah, he'd busted up a bar in defense of his 'honor'. A stupid excuse and Derick knew it, deep down. Still, it had felt good to deck that asshole; a month's worth of temper checking finally released. He sighed and nodded once more. "You think..." His accent was rather heavy on those words. The lieutenant had no ulterior motive here. Lt. Merrick had made that clear. He wasn't going to kiss Der's ass and tell him what he wanted to hear and on the flip side, the lieutenant wouldn't take any shit off him and would tell Derick straight up, how it was. "You think I could be good?" he asked quietly.
"I think you're not a fuck up," Tom said simply.
That would do. "Yes, sir...for the record, sir. I tried to walk away last night," Derick said. That had been weighing on his mind since Merrick had started this conversation with that fight.
"I read the report," Tom remarked with the barest hint of amusement in his eyes, even if it did not make it into a smile. "You're a MACO for fuck sake who's as big as a house, I think next time you can put down a Fleet rat without breaking several bones."
"Who knew the fucker had weak bones...," Derick muttered before nodding again. "Yes, sir. I'll try harder... less harder next time."
"Do that or its both our arses," Tom replied, hoping that conveyed just how much confidence he had in the kid.
Derick didn't answer right away because that answer wasn't what he'd expected. Not the word 'both' because that implied that the LT had gone to bat for him. Why? Lt. Merrick didn't even know him, didn't even know what kind of person he was or how good he was on the field. Sure, he had a service record but that rarely told anyone about character and trustworthiness. Trust. Why was he putting his trust in a lance corporal barely out of boot camp that, by all means, didn't deserve it? "Yes, sir," Derick replied finally, too well trained to shift in his confusion. People didn't stand up for other people where he came from. Well, a few did but that kind of trust was earned through years of sweat, tears and blood. Not off the bat. "I will."
"Good," Tom nodded aware that his remark had some effect on the kid. "I've got a lead on some power packs we can modify for our phase rifles on Aldebraan 3, I'm going down there in one hour to do some trading. You're coming me," he remarked with a grin. "since you have so much experience in bar room etiquette."
"Right up my alley, sir," Derick replied, returning the smile. "Civilian clothes, sir?"
"Yep," Tom nodded starting to move, "the bastard doing the trade is an Orion. Lovely women but the men will soon as slit your throat if they can cheat you out of your money."
"Orions can be alright, as long as you don't expect much," Derick replied, thinking back to the couple that did business with Charlie. "And the women are incredible." Oh. Hell. Yes. Shit-eating grin time.
"Well watch my back," Tom retorted as they went through the door and paused, "and if we have a spare hour, we might see what we can do about chasing down some of that tail. Man can't live on work alone."
"Consider it done," Derick replied, meaning the back watching. Hey, this guy had stuck up for him so he couldn't be all-bad. Maybe a little heavy on the alcohol but he couldn't be all bad.
********
And he hadn't stopped. Not after all these years. How many times had the kid dragged him out of bars when he was faced down drunk? How bar fights did get he pulled out of? How many times he had been 'retrieved' from seedy dives when Starfleet security had been called in to handle the drunk and disorderly which he almost always was? Derick had apologized for putting him on the spot for keeping quiet about McRae. What else could Tom do? If it wasn't for Derick, he would have been out on his arse years ago. He was here because Derick had watched his back.
"Good job Gunny," Tom returned the salute, meeting Derick's gaze and turned to the troops.
"Not gonna blow any smoke up your arse or give you any of that 'need to know shit'. The situation is this, we have ten Klingon warships of differing strength approaching orbit if they're not already here. They haven't made their intentions known but they have destroyed our stellar proximity detectors and are our jamming our off world communications. That says to me, that they're planning to start a fight. Evacuation procedures have been put into place but the fact of the matter is, we're not going to get the civvies out before what we estimate to be somewhere under a thousand warriors get here and they will come here. Klingons like to think that seeing the enemy face to face is the honorable way to fight. So," he shifted his gaze Derick and then at the troops.
"We're going to make them bleed for every fucking square inch of ground they try to take! So what are we going to do, MAKE THEM BLEED?"
"YES SIR!"
"FUCKING RIGHT," Tom shouted back. "You see an ugly you fry the fucker. Take no prisoners and no warning shots. Set your phase rifles for kill and take them out any way necessary. The fuckers like to talk about honour but they're willing to attack a civilian colony so what do we say that?"
"FUCK 'EM!" Came the traditional response.
"GOOD!" Tom concluded and turned Derick, "alright Gunny, let's saddle up."