Post by scarththegrim on Oct 2, 2011 21:59:56 GMT -5
"Ladies and Gentlemen we have successfully come to a complete stop. Please make sure your trays are secured and your seat is in the full upright position before exiting the vehicle, and allow me to be the first to welcome you to California base."
The even, rehearsed voice of the ship's captain echoed through the cargo hold of the Medea class military transport. Scarth Maheart, (>o.o)>, and several other soldiers rose from their seats almost in unison, the symphony of backs cracking and colons exhaling eerily blended well together. Stretching as they walked, the motley group of men and women stumbled from the transport into the bright sunlit Californian airport.
Once free of their flying coffin, the men and women of the Earth Federation quickly scattered their separate ways. A hotdog vendor caught (>o.o)>'s eye. Scarth agreed a snack was in order, and proceeded to patronize this fine vendor's wares.
"So, be on the lookout for a short, white brunette." Scarth muttered between bites of wiener. "No, not sure what she's supposed to look like. The letter didn't give a physical description, remember? All I know about her is what Colonel Sanders told you." Scarth took another bite of the dog. "I doubt she looks like a young Sayla Mass. EF may have won the war, but man, they must put something in the water in space because they make Earth women look like Germans." Scarth swigged a bottle of soda he had purchased. "No I'm not a racist. Have you ever seen a sexy German? No, those Nazi women in the films are always French or Russian using fake accents. Hey, the French may stink, but they know 4 things. Sauces, Cheese, Wine, and Puss-"
Scarth's tirade was cut short as he spotted an EF private holding a sign labeled "(>o.o)>". Scarth wiped the mustard from his face, nodded to his partner, and waved to the man.
"Hello. Are you..." the ensign stalled. Unsure how to pronounce his target's name, he just pointed to the picture on the sign. "Yes indeed my good lad. We're (>o.o)>, and it's a pleasure to visit your cesspool of artery clogged hippies." Scarth chuckled as he shook the privates' hand. "Oh... nice to meet you as well. Only one of you then? If you're ready, I'll take you to meet Colonel Reece." the private folded his sign and motioned for Scarth to follow him.
"Yes... only one of us. Looking forward to meeting your boss." Scarth's gaze shifted around the room to ensure nothing was amiss. Shrugging, he followed the private to a car parked nearby.
The even, rehearsed voice of the ship's captain echoed through the cargo hold of the Medea class military transport. Scarth Maheart, (>o.o)>, and several other soldiers rose from their seats almost in unison, the symphony of backs cracking and colons exhaling eerily blended well together. Stretching as they walked, the motley group of men and women stumbled from the transport into the bright sunlit Californian airport.
Once free of their flying coffin, the men and women of the Earth Federation quickly scattered their separate ways. A hotdog vendor caught (>o.o)>'s eye. Scarth agreed a snack was in order, and proceeded to patronize this fine vendor's wares.
"So, be on the lookout for a short, white brunette." Scarth muttered between bites of wiener. "No, not sure what she's supposed to look like. The letter didn't give a physical description, remember? All I know about her is what Colonel Sanders told you." Scarth took another bite of the dog. "I doubt she looks like a young Sayla Mass. EF may have won the war, but man, they must put something in the water in space because they make Earth women look like Germans." Scarth swigged a bottle of soda he had purchased. "No I'm not a racist. Have you ever seen a sexy German? No, those Nazi women in the films are always French or Russian using fake accents. Hey, the French may stink, but they know 4 things. Sauces, Cheese, Wine, and Puss-"
Scarth's tirade was cut short as he spotted an EF private holding a sign labeled "(>o.o)>". Scarth wiped the mustard from his face, nodded to his partner, and waved to the man.
"Hello. Are you..." the ensign stalled. Unsure how to pronounce his target's name, he just pointed to the picture on the sign. "Yes indeed my good lad. We're (>o.o)>, and it's a pleasure to visit your cesspool of artery clogged hippies." Scarth chuckled as he shook the privates' hand. "Oh... nice to meet you as well. Only one of you then? If you're ready, I'll take you to meet Colonel Reece." the private folded his sign and motioned for Scarth to follow him.
"Yes... only one of us. Looking forward to meeting your boss." Scarth's gaze shifted around the room to ensure nothing was amiss. Shrugging, he followed the private to a car parked nearby.
