Reality Check

Gunnery Sergeant Richard Sharpe looked at the empty bunks that once housed the Marines that lost their lives in the last two missions. Looking down in his left hand was a Padd on which he had written his condolence to their families. Even though Phanan wrote the 'official' condolence letter, Sharpe always added his to the 'Black Dispatch.'

A lot of Marines lost in such a small unit within the given time period was a harsh sobering blow and it was time for Sharpe to officially greet the replacements that had boarded the ship before the anomaly had started.

Pressing 'send' Gunnery Sergeant Richard Sharpe, career Non-commissioned Officer of the Starfleet Marine Corp passed his letters to Major Phanan. Looking at the bunks, he knew that soon they would be filled with men and women who would never even wonder what had become of the previous occupants. Looking at his chrono, it was time to meet the troops at the briefing room.

Marine Contingent Mission Room

The group Marines sat murmuring awaiting the arrival of the Gunnery Sergeant Richard Sharpe. The room was toned down as the mute evidence of empty seats brought forth the reality some would like to ignore. The ranking Marine Non-commissioned Officer was a Corporal who stood quietly watching for the arrival of Sharpe. This orientation was as tradition dictated the one in which the enlisted men met the ranking NCO. Just as Junior Officers were to be briefed by the ranking Commissioned Officer. Sharpe entered, his visage - cold and professional stood at the podium. Looking at each Marine before he spoke.

"Welcome aboard the USS Leviathan-A Marines. Your new home for a while... Some of you were once Starfleet personnel, the rest of you enlisted for some compelling reason. Either way you have now joined a branch of military service that many shun or ignore. We are even considered the very dregs of Federation Service. Do you know why ?"

Sharpe pause as one Marine stood up. Richard nodded for him to proceed.

"Gunnery Sergeant, I expect its because we are better than all of them and they're just jealous." The others in the room laughed in agreement... all except Richard Sharpe. He was silent as the Marine sat down with a self-satisfied smirk and the others quieted down.

"Private, the lowliest Starfleet person is considered by many Fleeters to be worth more to the Federation than a platoon of you goons and that's with me added to your numbers. They have been invested with more credits of training and expectation." Moving in front of the podium. "They are expected to save the Federation, explore the furthest reaches of space and come back with galactic peace. They are given huge vessels like the Leviathan to make them invincible and to bring freedom and civilisation to the barbarians among the stars. We are the damned... we are the unwanted." Sharpe looked again at each Marine. He knew this wasn't the pep talk they expected. He wanted them to know what it really meant be an enlisted Marine.

"Some of you are now wondering if what I say is true, then why is there a Marine Corp." Every eye was upon his as he walked behind the podium and held up a data Padd. "Because even though those Fleeters believe what I have said is God's given truth. In here..." He shook the data padd for emphasis. "...is the real sobering truth. Thousands and thousands of entries that contradict the statement I have just made." Pausing. "If you want to be self righteous, join Starfleet. If you want to face the dark truth of the Universe, join the Marines. We do not initiate first contact with a new species unless it's at the business end of a phaser rifle. Unlike the optimistic searching Fleeters, we are the pessimistic suspicious breed." Looking at the serious faces, he knew he had their attention.

"The search for continuing peace has created the Starfleet prime directives. We are the exception, the dark side of the moon. Fleeters are the liberators, while we are the killers. Sure the Fleeters engage in Space Battles, most are impersonal and at huge distances. We are the personal messengers of death. We look them in the eyes before we end their lives or
another condolence letter is sent should they beat you to the trigger pull. We are not a nice service... we seek to kill. We are considered an archaic implement that the Federation pretends doesn't exist. We are the embarrassment, we are usually kept in Rifle Companies at bases scattered across the galaxy. In unusual cases like ours where we are stationed with
Fleeters, we are usually ostracised or ridiculed. So much so that you would like nothing better than to put one of them in their place." At that moment Sharpe made a fist and slammed it down explosively onto the podium causing many of the Marines to jump reflexively. "Should you do that, my job will not to be congratulated you, rather to make your life a living hell! Your job is not to fight with Fleeters, you are paid to fight the Federation's enemies. We are a society that keeps close knit. In public especially on duty - you are to act in a extremely professional manner as taught you in boot camp."

"Nothing irritates a Fleeter more than to observe us being so Marine-like So keep your head until I or another Non-Com or Officer tells you to attack... understood ?" The Marines jump to their feet yelling.

"Aye, Aye !!!!" Sharpe waited as they again took their seats.

"Good, you are lucky to be serving onboard the Leviathan, Captain Devore actually seems to put some worth in our lives. Remember we are here as a force multiplier, to give the Starfleet something with a harder punch than their own security forces. There maybe times that we beam down as Fleeters are beaming up to buy them more time with our lives if necessary... Harsh truths but ones that have proved the true reason we Marines exist. We get the job done. We are a team... whether a squad or Rifle Battalion. Fight for each other, not just the Federation... do and possibly die... no matter if you are sent to hell to fight for the Federation, just remember I and other Marines will be beside you or ready to take your place should you fall... you are not alone in spirit no matter where you are sent. *Semper Fidelas*.

See you men in the phaser range in one hour, have a good chow." Gunnery Sergeant Richard Sharpe left the quiet room... sober thoughts now filled the minds of the Marines. He wanted them to learn the truth of what made the Marines who they were. In spite of the naysayers, they were the best !