"Ask him how to contact this 'Edwards' for later. Perhaps we can track the radio signal."
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Sebastian, not being much the talker, instead goes to inspect the men's belongings (presuming they were confiscated). In particular he looks for this radio.
"Go, help him. It may endear him to us. And stave off war crimes indictments."
"I'm more interested in the "why" than the who, though that's important of course. What do they gain by infiltrating us? 'How' is another? I was under the impression this organization is VERY secretive. When did they have the opportunity to learn about XCOM, much less plant a mole?"
"I have never been good in interrogations. I find it easier to get information from things and places than people."
"'Who's your supplier' might be important. They had good hardware, it would be good to know where they got it."
"That sounds inefficient and dangerous, ehm,...I'm sorry, I don't believe we've been introduced."
Sebastian steps forward and stands at attention. "My name is Sebastian Stein. My former official rank was Oberleutnant, but I'm not sure that matters now. I am pleased to officially meet you all, and look forward to 'neutralizing' more terrorist and alien scum with you."
Sebastian moves in, and while Gavril tangles the leader's hand, he smacks the guy with his knife hilt.
With his left hand he snaps a shot at one of the other terrorists trying to fight.
Sebastian sprints in and tries to plant a knife in the terrorist leader .
Sebastian stows his rifle, draws his pistol and knife, then moves up as far as he can to the next safe-ish spot.
Sebastian reloads.
Sebastian fires off one quick, controlled shot at the more heavily armored terrorist.
He ducks back down and gasps as the bullets hit his arm...
...But is relieved that they merely grazed him, causing no real damage. "Still hurts like a whore's son though." he mutters to himself. "I need to reload, Obergefreiter! Don't count on my fire to cover you!"
The wind knocked out of him slightly by the shot, Sebastian decides that another spray of bullets is the best way to prevent the next one from coming any closer to killing him.
"Obergefreiter Vasilescu! Are you injured?" Sebastian calls, right before popping up and "walking" his G36 across the terrorists he can see.
With less than stellar results.
Sebastian takes cover, hoping nobody is flanking their position. "Well that went to hell quickly!" he says, popping over just long enough to take a potshot and then hunkering back down.
Oberleutnant Stein reporting for duty!
Sebastian has been quiet so far, but he didn't have any good questions to ask anyway. Kind of pumped to be doing something, he stretches a bit at the starting line behind Bill.
Corwin retakes his seat and quickly resumes eating. After listening to Mei, Bas, and Bruce he comments wryly "Well it seems that a third of my squad mates clearly have some kind of combat training."
"Wouldn't exactly call it combat. Boxing is a sport. A kickass sport, but I doubt I'll be punching people on the battlefield." "Though that would be cool..." he says with a faraway look. To the question of what to do: "I agree with Walker and Cartwright."
"I'd like to know too. Haven't had much time to keep up on my boxing lately, I'm getting rusty."
"I know he was on the train, and has trouble pronouncing St. Louis. That's about it."
"Maybe your experience was different from mine, but I didn't have time to ask questions during boot." "And is it obviously the best? They basically put everything in the hands of one guy. Maybe it is, maybe it isn't, I dunno. That's why you ask things."
He stabs a potato with his fork, then wags the thing towards Bas. "Well, besides the important things, we get trained in things like firearms, superpowered movement, tactics, demolitions - all that war stuff." Bas frowns. "That's not what I-" he starts, but the conversation moves forward, and he eventually drops the argument. For now. "You know, one thing I don't really get, why did Schein decide that Threaded people were the best way to go? There's few of us, so many of us die between Threading and training...why not just try to reverse engineer Thunder tech or something? You could hand a gun to any soldier, and we're still pretty killable. Would we survive being hit by one of those acid guns even when fully Threaded and trained?" Bas shrugs. "Just seems like a weird basket to put all your eggs in, y'know?"
"Nice!" Bas chimes in at the mention of them getting to almost jump right in to powers training. "What kind of other training can we expect? I doubt they'll let us just work on the important stuff all the time." Bas rams some potatoes in his mouth while he waits for an answer.
Name Remembrance, for fun:
Kinda sad I passed that, almost wanted to get his name wrong.
"Present Cadet Sergeant!" Bas sounds off after coming from the room. He listens in on Creis' talk with the other kid, Bill he thinks, and suppresses a groan. Why'd he have to say that? Now I'm curious. I HAVE to look some time.
Bas' only real preference on bunk is to make sure he doesn't get stuck with the hardass (that is, Corwin), and tries his damnedest to arrange things accordingly. Once settled in he takes a second to familiarize himself with the rest of the dorm area, and likewise fiddles with his PIT. "Pretty nice quarters, all things considered." he comments.
Sebastian tries very hard to not roll his eyes at the display. There is so much about that that doesn't make sense. If our orders and discipline didn't matter they wouldn't be spending all this time training us in control.
I think he was talking to us... thinks Bas, but tries to avoid looking like he was eavesdropping, if only for plausible deniability.
Thinking he probably has one of the better grips in the squad, Bas volunteers for the wall. This train doesn't mess around. he thinks to himself, nearly grunting with the effort of holding on, but he manages. Perception:
Bas shifts from foot to foot and drums his fingers on the side of his locker as he waits. Feels like it's been days. You'd think it wouldn't take so long to count down from 10.
Bas tries to avoid rubbing his ears, if only for pride, but the discomfort soon becomes nearly unbearable. "What WAS that?" he asks as he furiously tries to relieve the pressure.
Bas handles his locker with relative ease and grace through the doors of the train.
"I think they've made it pretty clear over the last few weeks. We're not children any more. We're soldiers." Bas says, though anyone looking at him closely enough can note he's a little green around the gills at the thought of getting executed for insubordination.
"Dad signed up after the Thunder struck, but didn't make it far. Guess that makes me an Army brat, if only technically." "Everyone here have military run in the family?"
Bas shrugs and says no more on he subject, but gives every outward sign the others' words had done absolutely nothing to change his mind.
"We have eggheads for that. Engineers and scientists. They can make the gear, we can use it. I just don't see why we need to know anything more than maintaining and operating the tech."
"We're supposed to be soldiers, aren't we? Why would they bother teaching us anything that doesn't make us better at it?"
"Apparently, I have the power of super face-planting."
"I would. Think it clawed or scuffed anything important?" "Wonder if they Injected the cat too?"
Sebastian is printing, doing the obstacle course for the second time today. He's been extra focused on beating his record. At least this one's relatively fun. Feel bad for the ones stuck doing push ups and swimming laps all day. He breezes past the other obstacles, finally coming to the climbing wall. Without stopping, he gives a little hop to give him a slight momentum boost. Or, at least, that's what he intends to do. In reality, he sails almost completely over the nearly fifty foot wall, clipping his ankles on the ascent and flipping end over end. He crashes face first into the ground on the other side, wind knocked out of him. He comes to his senses just in time to comply with his orders to put his hands on his head, whole body aching. Wonder if they'd have shot me just to be safe if I'd managed to knock myself unconscious. he wonders. |