Awards Ceremony, Part 1
Posted on Fri 26th Oct, 2018 @ 11:35pm by Commander Mikaela Locke & Lieutenant Colonel Brooklyn Wellington & Khellian s'Siedhri MD & Brigadier General Franklin Sinclair
Edited on on Tue 6th Nov, 2018 @ 1:11am
1,134 words; about a 6 minute read
Mission:
Oblivion
Location: Hunt's Fortune
Timeline: MD 14, 1800
Brooklyn looked at herself in the mirror in the women's lavatory and adjusted her gold aerospace wings for what seemed the hundredth time on her Starfleet Marine Dress Uniform. Her hair was worn up neatly as she finally let out a sigh, somewhat happy with her appearance. "This is stupid," she muttered to herself.
"No, Colonel Wellington. This is not stupid," Leah Jamison replied, entering the Lavatory, dressed in a red, form fitting dress made of Tholian Silk with a slit up the right side. "This is just what this place needs and you look beautiful--even in that dreadful boring uniform."
"Thank you, Ms. Jamison," Wellington nodded politely. "You look beautiful as well, ma'am."
"Well of course I do!" Leah boasted with a bright smile and a flirty sway of her hips before checking herself out in the mirror. "I'm Leah Jamison!"
"I should get out there and find my place at the tables. Perhaps we will talk later, ma'am," Brooklyn said, making her way to the door.
"I do hope so!" Leah said with a smile as she began to freshen up at the mirror.
Brooklyn breathed a sigh of relief upon exiting as she never really understood women such as Ms. Jamison.
She immediately spotted a familiar face and couldn't help but smile as she walked over and placed her arms around him. "Hey you," she said to Khellian.
"You look very official." He murmured a hint of pride showing in his warm gaze. "Is this an appropriate venue for me to kiss you?"
"I don't see why not," Brooklyn said with a grin as she leaned in and kissed Khellian passionately.
His arm slid around her waist, and one hand came up to cradle her cheek. Any more passion and he might have to excuse himself, so be broke away and gave her a softer gentler kiss.
"Oh! You two make a cute couple!" Leah exclaimed with a bright smile on her face upon exiting the Lavatory. "About time you found someone to screw! Great stress reliever."
"Oh dear god," Wellington whispered, blushing "Let's move on. I probably need to meet with General Sinclair anyways."
Khellian was incensed "Who does that woman think she is to comment on our personal life. Especially with such a derogatory implications in her comment towards you."
"That woman is Leah Jamison, CEO of Disney Inc. for this sector," Brooklyn answered. "She means well...I think. Just likes attention and making money. I'm sure you know the type."
Muttering unhappily under his breath in Rihannsu, he glared at the woman. Raising her hands to his lips he kissed them softly.
Brooklyn smiled at Khellian as they headed for the group of officers gathered.
"Handsome, do we have the overhead camera aimed at the podium?" Miss Post asked, using the private channel for Federated News Network.
"Just focused it in myself," he answered.
"Perfect! I think we're ready to broadcast this on Civ-3. Come on down to the booth. I do believe Mr. Hunt added every single thing I mentioned to him for this place, even the nice-but-not-necessary items. And he had someone bring quite a nice fruit and vegetable tray, on a table in the corner. If you missed dinner, you won't starve," she laughed.
"I'm more of a sandwich man, myself," Harry muttered, finally satisfied with his special camera placement. "But I'll survive."
In the broadcast booth above the audience, Caroline smiled. It wouldn't be Handsome Harry if he didn't object to something healthy as a snack, but it was all for show. She began to test the sound system while she waited for him.
Franklin Sinclair studied his wrist display and quietly read over his speech notes for the umpteenth time, rehearsing under his breath what he would say, yet again and how he would say it. Speechifying had never been his favorite pastime. "There any sweet tea in the replicators around here?" he asked no one in particular as he read over the surname Csikzentmihalyi and repeated the pronunciation "Chick-sent-me-high" next to it. "Where do people come up with these names?" he muttered.
"Excuse me, General?" Mikaela Locke had appeared, almost out of thin air, at the general's side.
Sinclair glanced up from his notes and smiled briefly at Locke. "Yes, Commander? What can I do for you?"
Mikaela extended her right hand. "My apologies for interrupting your preparations," she said, "But we've not had a chance to be formally introduced. I'm Mikaela Locke, the station's executive officer."
"Oh! Yes, Captain Suzuki told me you were away from the base." Sinclair shook Mikaela's hand. "It's good to meet you, Commander, and I look forward to working with you and the captain. Perhaps we all might have dinner sometime to get better acquainted."
"I'd like that," Mikaela replied, surprising herself at how honest her response actually was. "I'll have my yeoman talk to your assistant - see if we can set something up."
"That would be excellent," Sinclair said. "Have your yeoman do it after 0830. My assistant will have had xer coffee by then."
Locke smiled and the two officers nodded smartly at each other. Locke then stepped away, leaving the general to his preparations.
UFP Marines, despite the stereotype, did very little marching in formation after basic training. They were, after all, espatiers who spent most of their time in the confines of starships and stations. On this occasion, however, they were putting on a show for civilians, so the Aerospace-Ground Expeditionary Group had selected representative platoons and assembled in the steppes near the casino. They formed up, and when the time came, they marched behind the colors -- a UFP flag, the Corps banner, and their Regimental colors with battle decorations. The doors of the auditorium were held open for them, and they tightened up their formation and entered, coming to a stop with the front ranks front and center before the podium and lectern.
"Company," Major Cassidy barked, the officers below her echoing, "Platoon," and then, as one, "Parade rest!" As one, the two hundred Marines snapped from attention to the resting position, feet apart, hands clasped at the small of the back, their space black and Marine-green dress uniforms creating visual blocks of color.
"Impressive," Caroline whispered to Handsome, watching with one eye on the actual Marines and one on the camera. "Switch to audience cam for 5 seconds, then focus on the podium."
Major Cassidy approached the Podium, and General Sinclair stood at its front. Cassidy saluted, one white-gloved hand coming up to touch the black brim of her dress cap. "Ninth Marine Aerospace-Ground Expeditionary Group, sir. All personnel present or accounted for!"
The General's salute was not quite as crisp, but it was accompanied by a proud smile. "Thank you, Major. You may join your Marines."
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