Reassignment [Harper/Truxtun]

[Emmett Tanner]

"Let me get this straight. You're refusing promotion."
"Yes, sir."
"What in the 'verse gave you that idea?"
"Just don't like change much, sir. Happy where I am."
"Well you can't just sit in one spot forever, Lieutenant, you're already overqualified. We need you higher up."
"Don't want it, sir."
"Then what do you propose we do?"

The sun was warm on Osiris. It was usually a pretty comfortable place. Emmett wasn't one for that much sun, generally, but that was typical of those who lived among the stars. Still, Osiris was a nice place, as long as you didn't go shooting your mouth off against the Alliance.

"I can't let you just hover, Lieutenant."
"I don't need to hover, I need to be left alone."
"Well I can't do that either. We have trainees coming in every day who need jobs, and they're rising rank faster every year. You take up space."
"Then throw me in a closet and forget about me."
"Now listen, you can't have- what?"
"I said: Throw me in a closet, and forget about me. Sir."

Lieutenant Emmett Tanner leaned casually against an unused building, surveying his surroundings. The docks at Osiris weren't quite as unkempt and busy as those on, say, Persephone, but that was the nature of the Alliance. Play nice, keep your area clean, and, for people like Emmett, don't mess with anybody.

"You've been reassigned."
"Where?"
"A closet for overqualified Lieutenants."

A wave had been sent, papers signed, commanders schmoozed- as far as anyone in Emmett's old assignment knew, he was off the face of the universe. Not literally, there was nothing particularly secretive about this new job, it was just that not too many respectable Alliance officers knew much about it. Emmett himself didn't know about it, until he was assigned there.

"A closet, sir?"
"You asked me to throw you in a closet, and this is the next best thing. The Truxtun is a more...specialized....ship. There, you can do what you want and get out of my hair."
"I see."
"Think you can handle one little change?"
".....I believe so, sir."

Harper, that was the commander's name. Or so Emmett was told. He was to wait here. Of course that had begun a week ago, but Emmett wasn't bothered by the timing. He simply hung around Osiris for a few days. Sights, sounds, anything he hadn't seen before. The occasional drink. Lots of books. And every day, he came down to the docks for any sign of the Truxtun.

He sighed. I hate reassignment.

[Michael Harper]

Commander Harper was the first to step off his boat as the ramp finally dropped. Back on Osiris... again. It seemed like they spent more time ferrying back to the Core of late than usual. Even the regular trips seemed like far too much, needless detours that reduced the amount of time they could actually be out there working.

"You're behind schedule." the dock master, a Commander the same as Harper but with at least 20 years seniority from this dead-end desk job, said as he approached.

"We're within the allotted window. The Black isn't always accommodating with precise timelines." Harper replied to the man as he walked down the dock toward the approaching officer.

"Window? More like a barn door of three weeks. Where's your captain?" the man scoffed and then held out a hand to prevent Harper from walking past.

"You're looking at him." As per usual, Michael was not in full uniform and thus was only wearing the most subtle hints as to his rank, a thin colored strip on his pants, the style of his shoes compared to the enlisted, etc. and even that only hinted that he was an officer. "Now please report the Truxtun as arrived so we can get loaded and be on our way."

"Hey!" the dock master pointed sternly. He was about to fire back about punctuality and how things were done on the Core but Harper's gaze shut him down. Even a career desk jockey knew better than to berate an actual combat ship commander. In truth, the Truxtun was late because they'd been sidetracked by slavers. One captured transport ship, 7 dead slavers, 4 captured, 12 rescued slaves, and assorted battle repairs was what they had to show for it, likely to slow anybody down a bit.

The dock master reluctantly accessed a nearby terminal and updated the ship's status. Resupply would now begin shortly with the arrival of waiting men and material. "Thank you." Harper replied to his fellow commander before finally walking past him. He signaled back to the men still waiting back at the ship to proceed with their business. Soon, they'd be out of here and back in the Black.

[Emmett Tanner]

As the sun beat down on him, Emmett quickly grew tired of being outside in the heat. He had long since given up wearing his uniform on the off-chance that his ride would show up today. Even among the strict rules of the Alliance, no one pretended that clothes mattered in scenarios like this. Even in this casual setting, Emmett was still miserable. Desperate to move, for the sake of his feet, he pushed himself away from his perch and sauntered off in the direction of his accomodations. Truly it was lucky that he passed one of the dock databases on his way. Lucky that he had enough sense to check the kiosk before leaving, just in case- just in case it happened to be today.

Emmett reversed his course, moving more or less quickly through the crowd. He muttered apologies to those he couldn't completely dodge, until he found himself at the dockmaster's post. "The Truxtun?" he asked the man curtly.
"Right here," came the response, equally dry.
"And her captain?" Emmett pressed. The dockmaster simply pointed at a slender man with brown hair who stood a few paces away. Emmett mumbled his thanks, and turned to approach.

If the ship was as odd as his commander had led him to believe, then Emmett wasn't surprised to find that her captain was not the kind of man to dress up for a pitstop. It made sense. Emmett liked that, it made himself feel better about his laziness of wardrobe. The man also looked slightly weary, as though he'd seen hard times of late. This was also a good sign, it meant that Emmett was looking at a job he could assume was more interesting than writing at a desk all day. All, of course, depending on where Captain Harper intended to place him.

Emmett cleared his throat. "Captain Harper. Lieutenant Emmett Tanner, reporting. I'm told you're expecting me." He drew the sheaf of papers with his orders on them and held them out for inspection.

[Michael Harper]

Michael was watching a pair of gunners as they retrieved the ship's mail when a new arrival approached. "Yes." He replied to the quick introduction. The commander took the paperwork but didn't even glance at it, not one for paperwork. He'd get to it later once they were in the air... or never. He'd seen all their files previously and didn't really need any more reading material... and "seen their files" meant gotten the Cliff Notes and read the interesting stuff. Last names, ranks (sometimes), service records, and recommendations are all he really cared about. Recently he'd even taken on a new officer without even knowing the lieutenant was a woman until she showed up to come aboard.

"And what were you expecting?" He asked, turning the phrasing back on the lieutenant. His tone showed true interest rather in Emmett's response. It was his experience that there were quite a few rumors about the Truxtun floating around out there, some good and some bad. There was also a tendency for people to get transferred and actually have no idea what their job was to be. The military had a tendency to leave out vital information like that from time to time. "Did they tell you anything or just hand you some papers and send you on your way to wait?"

[Emmett Tanner]

The captain's question was a bit intriguing to Emmett, but he answered smoothly. "They told me I'd been reassigned here because I was taking up space. Didn't want the promotion they tried to shove down my throat, so they put me here to get me out of the way. Beyond that, sir, all I know is that your boat here is a bit on the odd side." Satisfied that he had covered he full knowledge, Emmett nodded decisively. He wore no smile, but the corners of his eyes crinkled in mirth. He wasn't one to make a show, but he liked this so far. He'd never had a captain not bother him for paperwork, nor ask him any intelligent questions within the first five minutes.

Glancing at the ship, Emmett did a quick scan. She was impressive, that was for sure. His mind wandered briefly, wondering what exactly he'd be assigned to do here. The way the commander had phrased it, it seemed that Emmett was open for just about anything the captain could dream up. That certainly opened up some doors. Of course, it also made Emmett a little edgy that the captain needed to clarify...

Resolving himself to take whatever came and shut up about it, Emmett kept his gaze on Captain Harper. If nothing else, no one could say he was openly nervous.

[Michael Harper]

Michael gave a slight smile. So it was the standard story for Tanner as well. Somebody was trying to put him someplace out of the way they wouldn't have to worry about. They didn't particularly care what he'd be doing there and they certainly hadn't bothered to tell him anything detailed about his own transfer other than that it was happening.

The Truxtun, was not, however a complete dumping ground for any military undesirable Command wanted to disappear. Although many considered the patrol boat to be a punishment, it was actually one of the most exclusive ships in the entire Fleet. Harper hand picked his crew from a very large stack of people that didn't fit in elsewhere and had officers that wanted them gone. You got on the Truxtun not just from causing trouble but for being a damn good soldier despite your flaws, big or small.

The mention of refusing a promotion jogged the commander's memory as to exactly which new crew member this was. Typically, his men were the ones denied promotions, not offered ones they didn't want. This man, Lieutenant Tanner, was on the tame side compared to most on the ship. It was good to have a few like that to help herd the rest.

"An odd ship with men who'd rather stay put rather than land some prestigious post on a cruiser." Michael responded. "A haven for those who think the odd ones are those who avoid action in favor of ritual." At least that was the story for most of them, Harper included. Constant fighting on a small boat beat the heel clicking on a capital ship any day.

"You're the man who can do just about anything, huh?" He said, turning and walking back toward the Truxtun with the implied instruction for Emmett to follow. "I believe your service record says you're qualified on the Falcon dropship." He pointed up at the small port hanger bay of the ship. "You'll be flying one of my birds, fixing her up in between missions, and maybe getting your boots dirty and fighting with the marines you drop off from time to time. How does that sound?"

[I have something like this in mind for what the dropship looks like. It will of course have seal-able doors for spaceflight and only has one, not two pilots. Fully crammed with troops it can carry up to eight passengers.]

[Emmett Tanner]

By this point, Emmett was slightly unnerved. This man seemed to have a good bit more knowledge than he did. That sounds normal when you just say it, but he knew more more. It was like Emmett had been suddenly thrown into a completely different job, with no idea what he was supposed to do. Sometimes it's alright to be confused, but in a situation like this one, it's better if everyone's on board.

And then he was given his new position. Dropships were something he was familiar with, and as he mulled it over in his mind, it didn't take long to really come to grips with the plan. This was something he could do, and probably something he'd enjoy. Emmett smiled to himself as he gazed up at the hangar Harper had indicated.

"Captain, I believe you and I are going to get along," he said matter-of-factly. "And for what it's worth, I'm not a liability. They didn't get rid of me for any reasons you'd need to worry about." Emmett just wanted to be left alone, really. He needed a ship where it could be acceptable that he was so consistent. He could deal with other people and their constant state of flux, as long as his little personal bubble played by his rules. From what he'd heard so far, the Truxtun was the just the place.

"So what all falls in the line of duty for you?" he asked out of curiosity. "Just wondering what I should expect." His hands gravitated to his pockets, and his eyes squinted in the sun. "With the....intriguing....crew you say you have, I suppose you've got a few stories to tell."

[Michael Harper]

"Liability?" The commander cocked an eyebrow and gave a slightly crooked smile. "I wouldn't have picked you if I was worried about that. Besides, if you give me any trouble there's a fair few on the boat that have experience striking officers." It was a joke but it was also the truth. A fantastic soldier who just slipped up once and laid hands on a boneheaded officer was a prime candidate for transfer to the Truxtun. Horrible thing to waste simply because somebody finally got tired of the bullshit they were being fed by somebody's legacy.

Turning to the next question, Michael stood at parade rest and looked off into nothing as he recalled the ship's past. "She's got plenty of stories. Truxtun is nine years old and I've been her captain for all nine years, if you can believe that. Suppose they got rid of me out in this post too." He gave a short laugh before continuing. "Barring the rare direct order from the Admiralty, I have absolutely free reign to command her and I say we go where the action is. Pirates, slavers, smugglers, raiders... reavers. It doesn't matter." The commander firmly and proudly pounded his fist onto the side of the Truxtun's hull. "77 destroyed and 340 captured enemy ships, and of course that doesn't include ground ops. We do it all: ship-to-ship engagements, boarding actions, smuggling interdiction, escort, planetside support... you name it."

["Firebug" Adams]

Barely a few days out of his recent court-martial for a rather hilarious prank he had pulled, Firebug found himself wandering around Osiris docks, trying to find the ship he had been assigned to. He had, rather surprisingly, avoided a life-long jail sentence due to no one having evidence to convict him despite everyone knowing it was him (who else would be insane enough to blow up an officer?). So, thanks to the glaring lack of anything solid but the general knowledge of his love of explosives, Dante had been reassigned to some ship that no one really seemed to keep track of. Perfect for me, then.

After asking around for a matter of seconds, Adams was finally told where the Truxtun was docked, which he casually made his way to. Upon arrival, he saw a pair of men standing outside of the ship. After waiting a few moments to work out who the commander was, he gave up, wandered over and said, "Hello there, lads. Gunnery Sergeant Adams, reporting for whatever duty you give me. Now, which one of you dapper looking gentlemen is Commander Harper?"

[Michael Harper]

[OOC: Don't mean to skip post order but I figure I'm the center of attention here and Emmett is just about welcomed aboard and I can move past him unless you've got objections.]

Dapper? Michael looked down at himself wearing only about half of a disheveled uniform and then over at Tanner who wasn't even in any uniform. Maybe they were just emanating such an appearance as such upstanding fin gentlemen despite their attire. Ha! More likely it was just a borderline nut job marine making small talk on his new assignment. "That'd be me, Gunny."

He turned to Lieutenant Tanner and with a mild wave of the unopened transfer papers he said, "Grab your kit and say your good byes to Osiris before embarking." He then turned to the new arrival. "How does Master-at-Arms sound?" Michael asked bluntly in response to the marines new post. "That is so long as I don't have to worry about the head mysteriously exploding while I'm on it." The commander knew exactly who this man was. There were only so few marines coming aboard and there was only one Gunnery Sergeant among them, and boy was he probably the most stereotypical Truxtun flunky of the group.

["Firebug" Adams]

Firebug's eyes widened at his new position and said, "Well, that certainly sounds like a position, sir." He then grinned at the commander's reference to his past history. "Don't worry about it sir, I'll warn you before-hand." He noticed that, despite thatt fact that the man claimed to be Harper, he didn't exactly look like commander material, but Dante had been warned that the Truxtun wasn't exactly... Formal. Which suited him rather nicely.

"Sir," the pyro began to ask, "would I be able to know who I'm going to have in the ship's marine detachment? Because I would like to personally meet a number of them in order to... I don't know. I just want to meet them, really." The marine couldn't tell why he had asked the question, but it had felt right. At the time. Now, it felt as if he sounded a bit needy, to be honest. Which was not like him whatsoever. Or at least he thought so.

[Michael Harper]

"Sure?" Michael responded, a little confused by the question. It's not like they were going to run right into combat in the next five minutes. It's not like he'd have months to train a tightknit group or hand pick a squad but there was plenty of time to get to know his men. Truxtun probably wasn't going to get back in the air for a few hours, or even days. From then it would take some time before they even reached their "hunting grounds" out in the Rim.

"Standard compliment is sixteen, yourself included. I believe eleven from the last tour are staying on and should be around, there's yourself, and then three new marines we're waiting on." It left them one shy at fifteen but he didn't mother mentioning it. The man didn't need detailed numbers, he wanted a personal not statistical approach to his men.

"I'm sure you'll be able to pick the marines out and the vets of the ship should be able to point you in the right direction." the commander added. Taking their lead from the commander, uniforms were often incomplete which complicated identification. The marines were typically the tougher and more heavily armed looking guys on the boat, but it actually wasn't always so clear cut who was who. Truxtun had so much diversification between roles that there would be a marine helping to load torpedoes and an engineer carrying around a gun to repel boarders just in case. Best just to ask around and get to know the small crew.

[Emmett Tanner]

((OOC: Sorry I disappeared, guys, I was having computer problems. Should I jump back in or should we just assume Emmett left? Either one works for me.))

[Michael Harper]

(OOC: Whichever you please. You can keep him around in conversation, RP him going off to get his baggage or checking out the ship, or just leave it with nothing and assume he did something like that to drop out of the thread.)

[Carlisle Loosani, Jr.]

Carlisle was ready for the change to come. After living and working on Osiris for the past few years, mostly directing air traffic, he would be taking on a new job, one that he considered to be a true military position. By 'true,' Carlisle was thinking something that involved combat, to a degree. He didn't expect to be doing much fighting himself, but he would be in a position to assist in such situations, and that would be a first for him. Carlisle had heard about the Truxtun when his former CO made on offhanded comment about the ship. They were discussing possible reassignment options and his CO hadn't intended for the Truxtun to be taken into serious consideration, but after hearing of it Carlisle prodded him for more information. The ship certainly had a... colorful past. It was looked at by others in the Alliance as a less than appealing place to be assigned, but Carlisle liked the idea of working there. He wanted to be put somewhere he could more directly serve the Alliance and protect it's people and no other option like the Truxtun was available at the time to give him that opportunity. He wasn't sure how well he would mesh with the other crew members, they were supposedly a bunch of misfits, but a thought like that never deterred him. His CO said he had a couple weeks to think about it before the ship arrived on Osiris, but Carlisle had his mind made up in three days.

The time had come, the Truxtun was finally here. Carlisle walked around the docks in full uniform. He asked a dock worker nearby where he could find the Truxtun. The man gave a quite annoyed response as someone else had apparently just been by also asking for the whereabouts of the same ship. Regardless, Carlisle got his directions and quickly found where the Truxtun was at. He almost walked by the group of men that were talking just outside the ship, but he stopped short as he heard one man call another 'sir.' Carlisle didn't know if these were men he was looking for, simply because of the lack of uniforms, but he decided it might be a good idea to introduce himself anyway. He waited for a pause in their conversation, so as to not interrupt, then spoke up, "Good afternoon, gentlemen. I'm Carlisle Loosani, Lieutenant Junior Grade. I've recently been transferred to the Truxtun here," he offered a handshake to each of them. Carlisle probably wouldn't have been so forward if he had known one of these men was Commander Harper, "Are you guys new recruits too?"