Senior Assault Commander Stewart Getty's face was extremely red as he shouted at Dr. Berkeley-Harris Braxton.
"Do you have any conception, any idea at all, of what could happen if you keep mettling with this virus?! It may have the greatest potential in experimental medicine, but it comes at a monumental risk! The price for faliure is all of humanity! Get those fucking dollar signs out of your eyes and see the damn monster you are creating!"
Braxton didn't turn around. He said, "Stop shouting, you barbarian. If we don't take some risks in-"
Getty grabbed Braxton by the neck and threw him into the door. He shouted, "Look at me in the God-damned eye and say with a straight face that ninety-five billion human beings are some risks! All you whores give a shit about is money! Nobody is perfect! I can't believe you assholes would go as far as risking the human fucking race to maybe get rich!"
Braxton opened his mouth to speak, but Getty pulled out his Ronson 45 and shot him in the head.
. . .
This Stewart Getty character scares the shit out of me. The way he shouted and swore at the worried officer...how does anyone on this ship not want to run and hide from the sight of his mere presence? He was dressed in full [BLACK] armor and had a Shotlite Tempest and Hornet slung over his back. In a holster strapped to his pants, there was a Ronson 45.
Getty lead us through the long hallways. We transfers walked in a straight line, up stairs, through some break rooms, and finally into a large, open room (although smaller than the huge cargo bay) with a wide, panoramic window viewing out into outer space. There were computers and control panels everywhere, and all of them had an officer manning them. In the center, there was a large chair. Sitting in the chair was a tall man wearing a navy blue uniform.
"Transfers, this is Fleet Admiral Rohan Sharpe Anforth. He is the commanding officer of the ship and the entire fleet. I am his right-hand man," Getty said. The admiral stood up and smiled. "G'day, everyone!" he said with a strong Australian accent, "You can call me Admiral Anforth for short! My First Mate, I'm sure, has already introduced himself. If not, the he is High Assualt Commander Stewart Getty, First Mate of this vessel. My Second mate, them man in the wheelchair next to me, is Master Cheif Petty Officer Berkely-Harris Braxton. He was shot in the head 20 years ago, shortly before the outbreak, but has since become a highly valueable officer despite his physical limitations."
Anforth went on to introduce the other officers in the bridge. I noticed the entire time that Getty was glaring at Braxton, who was avoiding his eyes. It made me feel nervous. Usually the high-ranking officers of a ship are like a big, extended family. Was there a history between Getty?
When all the introductions were wrapped up, Getty led us out of the bridge. While walking, he told us, "Alright, guys, it's time for your assignments! We're going to the Medbay for real this time, so get ready!
I was assigned to Sanitation after the evaluation. I've never seen myself as poorly behaved, but whatever. I guess I'd better make the most out of my fantastic, prestigious new assignment!
. . .
Hah! Augster got sanitation! Nerd! I got cargo bay, of course. I deserve cargo bay! The guy in charge was this hunky Heavy named Perry. Said he was a Chief Petty Officer, that we were gonna unload some stuff, blah blah blah. I don't give no two shits about busy work, I know this is probably some lame training exercise. They always put new guys through this shit. It doesn't matter though. Soon, I'll maybe get some promotion, and my asshole dad can stop bothering me about getting good in the military. What a fucking hick, that piece of shit is. I hope he gets infected like my mother, the stupid bastard. I hate him. I hate him even more than the scientists who tore my family apart by making this damn virus.
Speaking of asshole scientists, I saw him. I saw Dr. Braxton. I can't believe they let him into the navy at all, neverminding the fact that he had a hole in his head. A man almost directly responsible for the creation of the Thera Virus, and they put him, of all places, ON THE FUCKING BRIDGE OF THE MEDEA? Morons! Honestly, I understand why Getty was glaring at him. I'll bet he was holding Heaven and Earth to keep himself from shooting the bastardly geek!
But anyway, I'm tired of writing this journal, so I'm gonna quit it and go to sleep now. Some first day!
. . .
This is the third part of my SAS story. The first two parts, in order, are:
http://saszombieassault.wikia.com/wiki/User_blog:The_Augster_at_NK/Sanitation:_An_SAS_story
http://saszombieassault.wikia.com/wiki/User_blog:The_Augster_at_NK/Cleansing:_An_SAS_story