The Mess Hall/The place to Eat
"All right men, evacuate in neat lines, everyone in order, by squad! I know we all wanted a nice meal together, but we won't do that if the bastards kill us. Forward Fusiliers!"
"How'd the hell did they get this deep into our territory?"
"We'll ask that later, there was supposed to be the Van Doos between them and us..."
"They pincered the Van Doos? What chance do we have? They have the heavy equipment..." "Michael? Your opinion?" That was a desperate gamble, Michael had shown more and more of his ruthless side lately, but Sophia didn't feel like abandoning the Van Doos either, the regimental rivalry was fierce, and storied, but what no one outside of the higher echolons of staff knew, was how often the Van Doos's Adélard Francouz and the Fusiliers' officers stood up for one another in the bloodless, and not so bloodless behind the scenes battles where one was assigned to which theatre, or to what battle field. The Van Doos had had the Fusilier's back, and Sophia wasn't going to turn her back on them, not without a good reason. "We gotta fight for our HQ, its where we all sleep. We gotta fight for our friends, lest no one think we're worth fighting for, or with, especially considering the Van Doos are scions of Terra, just as we are. We can't let them down, we just gotta fight smart. They got pincered while out of their vehicules, trying to get back into position." Sophia admired that turn of phrase, it made it sound less culpable than 'caught out of position, pincered and slaughtered', which was one way Brad had put it over to her on the radio. "We're also overstrength in heavy weapons at the moment, we must make the best of this." Just as he said that, there was a huge explosion, out in the courtyard. "What was that?" "They're facing the pioneers in the medical wing, methinks someone didn't divest them of their equipment, I'll make sure to draw up the appropriate reprimand." Michael was grinning like a schoolboy. "We're fighting on our home turf, that also counts for something!" "Spoken like a true commissar, as usual, Michael!" Well, maybe not really, but she really enjoyed his brand of pragmatic optimism in this particular circumstance. "Fusiliers, to the fore!"
"They pincered the Van Doos? What chance do we have? They have the heavy equipment..." "Michael? Your opinion?" That was a desperate gamble, Michael had shown more and more of his ruthless side lately, but Sophia didn't feel like abandoning the Van Doos either, the regimental rivalry was fierce, and storied, but what no one outside of the higher echolons of staff knew, was how often the Van Doos's Adélard Francouz and the Fusiliers' officers stood up for one another in the bloodless, and not so bloodless behind the scenes battles where one was assigned to which theatre, or to what battle field. The Van Doos had had the Fusilier's back, and Sophia wasn't going to turn her back on them, not without a good reason. "We gotta fight for our HQ, its where we all sleep. We gotta fight for our friends, lest no one think we're worth fighting for, or with, especially considering the Van Doos are scions of Terra, just as we are. We can't let them down, we just gotta fight smart. They got pincered while out of their vehicules, trying to get back into position." Sophia admired that turn of phrase, it made it sound less culpable than 'caught out of position, pincered and slaughtered', which was one way Brad had put it over to her on the radio. "We're also overstrength in heavy weapons at the moment, we must make the best of this." Just as he said that, there was a huge explosion, out in the courtyard. "What was that?" "They're facing the pioneers in the medical wing, methinks someone didn't divest them of their equipment, I'll make sure to draw up the appropriate reprimand." Michael was grinning like a schoolboy. "We're fighting on our home turf, that also counts for something!" "Spoken like a true commissar, as usual, Michael!" Well, maybe not really, but she really enjoyed his brand of pragmatic optimism in this particular circumstance. "Fusiliers, to the fore!"
Founding Date
41768
Type
Room, Military, Mess hall
Parent Location
Ruling/Owning Rank
Owning Organization
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