Jacqueline "Jackal" Egret (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
major_egret_msfsod) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
ten_fwd2015-07-15 08:58 pm
major_egret_msfsod) wrote in ten_fwd2015-07-15 08:58 pm
Entry tags:
Arrival | OTA
Jackal was always a little reluctant at accepting even mandatory leave. Still, she knew the reasons for it, and could defend the policy as needed, whether she liked it or not, and as an officer she had an obligation to serve as a good example. Although the FMS Viking remained at its post in the Belt, high-speed transports ferried personnel and special-order supplies, and it was aboard such an interplanetary shuttle she was traveling back to Mars. The visit home would be trying, as usual, but seeing her militia unit again would be good, as well as her mother.
Resting her eyes momentarily, she didn't notice the bright light. Other changes, however, she noticed: the tone of the nearby conversations, in particular, and although it was subtle, something was definitely not quite right about the feel of the shuttle. Scowling, she opened her eyes again--then scowled more so, looking around. She was definitely not in the shuttle. She was still in her red-tone camouflage fatigues, with a holstered device (most likely some kind of pistol, at a glance) at her side, and a duffel bag rested at her feet.
She stood abruptly, wary, but of all the people in the room--judging by its size and the totally open view of starscape, most likely aboard a large ship--none showed any signs of hostility. In fact, most barely even showed much interest in her presence. Whether they were aware of the situation or not, though, it was unacceptable. Resting a hand on her sidearm, but not drawing it, she kept her eyes peeled for any sign of someone who might be in charge. No explicit threats--yet--but she couldn't make any assumptions under such circumstances.
"What the hell's going on, here?"
Resting her eyes momentarily, she didn't notice the bright light. Other changes, however, she noticed: the tone of the nearby conversations, in particular, and although it was subtle, something was definitely not quite right about the feel of the shuttle. Scowling, she opened her eyes again--then scowled more so, looking around. She was definitely not in the shuttle. She was still in her red-tone camouflage fatigues, with a holstered device (most likely some kind of pistol, at a glance) at her side, and a duffel bag rested at her feet.
She stood abruptly, wary, but of all the people in the room--judging by its size and the totally open view of starscape, most likely aboard a large ship--none showed any signs of hostility. In fact, most barely even showed much interest in her presence. Whether they were aware of the situation or not, though, it was unacceptable. Resting a hand on her sidearm, but not drawing it, she kept her eyes peeled for any sign of someone who might be in charge. No explicit threats--yet--but she couldn't make any assumptions under such circumstances.
"What the hell's going on, here?"