PHD 239: Learning the Hard Way
Learning the Hard Way
Summary: MaA meets transferred MP, and winds up handing out a refresher course in protocol.
Date: PHD239 (December 13, 2009)
Related Logs: None

BS Hestia - Security Station

Kalson is sitting at his desk in the back. The man is going over duty reports, or rosters, or something that requires his attention and a high tolerance for annoyance. He grumbles a little as he scribbles something down.

The hatch door to the den of the military police aboard Hestia. Through the hatch, one of the new MPs steps through, the tan uniform (complete with new patches) designating that Cinder is a Marine and not something else. A quick question of the MP on duty by the door gets her pointed toward the MaA, and thuds on over in her black boots. "Excuse me, Gunnery Sargeant Kalson? Do I have the right person?" she asks as politely as she can.

"Uh-huh. Who're you?" Kalson asks, not even looking up from his work. The man signs off on whatever it is he's looking at, sticks a paper-clip over it and a second peice of paper, and then stuffs it into a rather full outbox. His inbox does not appear to be much better at the moment. The man sighs quietly, then looks up at Cinder, "You one of them Kharon folk lookin for a job to do?"

"That I am exactly. Name's Brand. Private Cinder Brand. MP from Kharon. I spoke with Lieutenant Tombs last night when I arrived from the carrier. He gave me orders to find you ASAP. Soo…here I am." When she takes, she stands at some rough, super-loose approximation of a sort of casual parade rest…that is, hands clasped in front of her, legs apart, but rocking back and forth a bit nervously.

"Great…" Kalson says, trailing off into some muttering about, well something Cinder probably wouldn't be able to make much sense of. Maybe its about the inbox that he digs around in for a few moments, or it could be about officers and paperwork in general. Who knows. Anyways, out comes a file marked 'Brand' that Kalson gives a long looking to. "Y'aint got no discipline problems, an I aint heard shit bout ya from anywhere else. Looks good to me. 'M puttin you on reserve duty for one week. Get to know the ship, get to know the people. Keep an eye on your folk for me an make sure nobody's tryin to mark out territory or anything dumbass like that." He takes a sip from the cup of coffee sitting on his desk, "Any questions?"

"N-not really, no. Except…you want me to try and like, spy on the other Kharon Marines for you?" That might be a little trouble…Damon and Ashe will probably try to mark their territory, as the MaA doesn't seem to want. The others? Well, Cinder's not too super-familiar with them. "I can do that, sure, but I don't want to be a rat or anything. I'd like to keep it pretty much as MP as possible, keep shit from hitting the fan, as it were. If that's alright by you, Sir?"

Cinder can't help but grin a little. "Sounds like what I did daily on the carrier, actually…Sir." She almost forgets to tack the Sir on there, but remembers at the last second. No idea how much of a stickler this man is about titles…so, might as well be safe rather than sorry. "Sounds perfectly reasonable otherwise," she says, nodding a bit. "Hell of a lot of ship here to learn. Might need some new boots by the time patrols start."

"I work for a living Private." The Gunnery Sergeant says to Cinder, giving her a bit of a hard look, "And, you do too, starting now. Go change into PT and give the ship a lap. Starting with the hangar bay." Kalson says. Apparently he's not much of a stickler for titles, unless they're misapplied to him.

Whoops, hope that doesn't go into that file there. Probably not, but it's certainly not a great way to introduce oneself to their new boss. "Yes Sir!" she says, rather snappily compared to before. To go along with it, she snaps into a nice, crisp salute. "Permission to…be dismissed?" she asks, only after starting to turn toward the door.

"Gods. I got a batch of retards. I am a Gunnery Sergeant, Private. Do you call your Sergeants, sir?" Kalson asks, standing up slowly from his desk, "Are you one of them new recruits? Got to duck basic training did ya? Get back here Private. You will stand here until I am done with you." He's not barking mad, but, he has put on his command voice and a few of the MPs around the section are either trying to hold back laughter at Cinder's predicament, or, suddenly working a little faster than before.

"I…guess not?" Cinder says, furrowing her brows, clearly thinking hard. She doesn't try to turn and move anymore though, so, that's some progress. Cinder looks positively lost, though, truth be told. She didn't duck basic, but…there's a lot of it that she doesn't remember too well. Too much vocabulary, separated by PT and target practice.

"Private Brand, stand at attention before me." Kalson snaps at Cinder, before he yanks open one of the drawers in his desk, and rifles around in it. "Private Brand, what do you address an officer of the Corps as? Is it God? Because, if you're calling an NCO like me sir, you must really have your nose up an Officer's ass when you're talking to them." He pulls out a copy of the Rules and Regulations of the Colonial Marine Corps and holds it out to Cinder, "While you jog around my ship, your cadence will be the section in this book titled, 'Regular Forms of Address for Marine Personnel.' You will recite it aloud as you jog. If you get bored with that section, you will recite the mission statement of the Military Police. Is that understood?"

"Yes…Gunnery Sergeant!" Cinder replies, after snapping to attention right in front of Kalson. She's stiff as a board up and down, arms straight and locked at her sides, hands in tight fists. Her chin is up and her view up is more toward the ceiling than anything else. When she takes the manual from Kalson, she holds it down at her side, figuring to find the appropriate sections as she runs.

"Dismissed, Private. Report back here when your jog is finished. I'm timing you." Kalson says, before he moves to sit back down in his chair. He sighs a little, pulls out the next file, and starts to go through it.

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