Matt Morris SFM

Serene Marines? 1SG Matt Morris Sitting at the dual occupancy console in the Marine HQ lobby, 1SG Morris was compiling the necessary data they had received from sci-ops on the planet below. To his right was a stack of PADDs that he'd already uploaded the data onto, and to his left were the remaining blanks. While he hadn't yet received any orders from Makisu, the SNCO sincerely doubted that they'd be twiddling their thumbs on the Excalibur while the rest of the crew was searching the planet below. For something. Since coming aboard the ship the Company had done very little except train, train, train. Matt was involved with that, of course, but he'd spent most of his time either conferring with the training NCO or doing paperwork. It was actually quite ridiculous how much of the tedium was required for their twenty-five person group. Personnel reviews, constant inventory of their equipment and weapons, training reports, infrastructure evaluations... Matt sincerely hoped that when the Starfleet Marines became more standardized, Marine Command would require a little less prose. There had been a few minor glitches with some of the sonic showers in the locker room, but the engineering crew had responded relatively quickly; the conference room door was still hitching though, and he'd sent a maintenance order in for that. Otherwise, their HQ seemed to be in working order, and everything was going pretty smoothly. Matt sincerely doubted that would last much longer, especially with Makisu lurking in the shadows to pounce on the first signs of a wobble. As he finished uploading the data onto the remaining PADDs, he pondered ringing up the XO to see what was in the works. Unlike the Major, that one understood that, NCO or not, Matt needed to be kept in the loop. Before he could, however, the Beta Squad Leader entered the lobby and approached him. "Sergeant," the Trill woman said by way of greeting. "Here's my latest report on the squad's progress." She handed over a PADD. "Thank you, Sergeant," Matt responded, taking it. "Give me a summary." "Aye," she said, nodding. "As far as weapons training goes, I'm quite confident that we could shoot a tribble resting on a dog at a hundred meters without the dog even noticing. The hand to hand, though... At this point I think the tribble would win." "That would be quite embarrassing," Matt said, raising an eyebrow. "What's the problem?" "Balance," she said. "I talked to the AL," she said, speaking of the Alpha Squad Leader. "It seems that his squad is the exact opposite. Better at hand to hand than with weapons." "Right," Matt said, pulling up the Alpha Squad's latest reports. Skimming it, he judged the grades. Their hand to hand numbers were better, though the weapons numbers weren't nearly as bad in ratio to Beta's. "Hmm. I'll discuss this with the XO, see if we can't juggle something to achieve more balance. However," he said, putting on his stern face. "Your Squad's numbers are pathetic," he said, looking at the PADD he just received. "Beta's evening rest hours will be halved, and you will spend them working on hand to hand. Understood?" "Yes, Sergeant!" "Dismissed," he told her. She stood at attention before marching out of the lobby. Shaking his head, he sighed. "This is really going to rile up Makisu," he muttered. Assembling the PADDs with the planetary data and putting them in a tote, he then secured his console and headed back to the XO's office. Seems he had more to worry about than their upcoming assignment, whatever it would be.

Some more from the last portrait session of Matt courtesy of his mom:

"Move out," Morris said calmly to the squad leaders. He had just received word from the XO by comm that they were cleared to make their way onto Excalibur. The squad leaders repeated the order to the rest of the Marines with a tad more volume and enthusiasm. Besides a duffel with their personal belongings, the grunts were also carrying totes with the 26th Marine Company's various articles of business. They'd stop off at their HQ on deck 3B. drop off the totes, and then head off to the barracks further foreward. It would be the job of First Sergeant Matthew Kenneth Morris to sort it all out. Grabbing his own duffel and a tote, he followed behind the briskly moving squads. Standing a few millimeters short of two meters, Morris' build could only be described as wiry; when he was younger he'd managed through much blood, sweat, tears and daily protein supplements to keep some muscle mass on, but his body just wasn't designed for it. Now that he was more of an administrator, he could afford to lose some of it. By any description, though, he was still in excellent shape. His cool grey eyes were level, watching the squad move in front of him. The new Starfleet Marines were still a small bunch, and so were their companies. Only twenty-five members in the group, two of which comprised the CO and XO. Each squad also had a trained medical corpsman, though they were still good fighters and would put standard Starfleet medical types to shame in combat situations. There was also a non-com trainer, who filled the role of loud-mouthed, low-tact Sergeant to the hilt; he was also a shrewd poker player and a load of laughs. As for himself, Morris had seen that end of the spectrum before, though he usually kept a lower decibel profile. Now, though, he could save the yelling for when it was truly required. As the Staff Non-Commissioned Officer of the 26th, it was his job to manage the enlisted members. His first priority was to be the administrative assistant to both the CO and XO; this would also make him the "bridge" between the command and execution portions of the company. Besides playing receptionist and filing clerk, he would work with the training NCO to organize various drills and other training matters as the command staff required. He would also assemble all known data for the tactical planning stages, and distribute the command staff's orders when they weren't delivered in person. All of that could certainly be a handful, but it was a small company. Old Earth Marines would have had multiple sergeants handling these duties; of course, those same old Earth Marine companies were anywhere from two to five times the size of the Starfleet version, so it was to be expected. From that historical perspective, the modern Marine companies were rather top-heavy platoons, but for only being a couple years old, they were doing quite well. Having served in Starfleet since the age of eighteen, for a rather nice total of twenty-two years now, Morris was certainly comfortable with the routine. Though he was a little anxious about this coming assignment: it would be the first time he'd been posted on a starship. He'd spend most of his time pounding the ground around Geneva and some in San Francisco, with a dreadfully painful move to Betazed that had cost him a few muscles and had in physical therapy for months. It was only after accepting the offer to become a Marine that he'd been shipped out into space, and now he'd be on an Akira variant starship in the Gamma Quadrant. He'd only just recently become comfortable with his Marine rank. He hadn't had time to settle in at either Master Sergeant or Master Tactical Sergeant. Having been in the standard fleet operations rank scheme, he'd always looked forward to finally becoming a Chief Petty Officer. He'd been diverted to the Marines before that, though, so his first promotion into the elite enlisted ranks had been as a sergeant instead. Though he could say one major advantage to him, from purely an aesthetic standpoint, was the move to the grey from gold. His coloring and the security undershirt hadn't been the best combination, and whenever he had a holo-portrait taken for his mother, she'd insisted that he either wear the grey dress uniform or something else entirely. The last set he'd had taken, he was in one of his Academy Athletics pullovers from his days rooting for the parrises squares team. Well onto the Excalibur by this point, he walked down the corridor of deck 3B behind the rest of the company. He'd only studied a diagram of their HQ, so he only had a vague idea what he'd have to work with. As the group in front filed in to the starboard side door, Morris steadied the tote on one knee so that he could run a hand through his black hair. Having studied the old Marine history, he was thankful that the tradition of shaving one's hair to within a millimeter of the scalp had been tossed aside in this century. After another few moments, he was inside the starboard section of their HQ in the main "lobby." It sported a dual seat console desk, he saw, four waiting area seats, and one more doors than total chairs. The other Marines had stacked their totes in front of a storage locker near the head, and he did the same. Looking back, he studied what would be his primary workspace. The trainer would have the office behind and to his right, and there were two auxillary offices on the foreward wall. One of which he would use for more sensitve work. There were five storage lockers and cabinets in the room, two of which he figured were packed with empty PADDs. The aft wall held the doors that led to the conference room, and the door to the briefing room which also led to the XO office and combination work room/communications section. The locker room and armories were on the port side section, as well as the CO's office. That latter didn't hurt his feelings one bit. While certainly Major Cloud Makisu was a well qualified company commander, he was also rather unpleasant company. The further away from his own space the Major could be, the happier Morris' workdays would be. The rest of the Marines had filed out to head to the barracks, leaving only Morris and his loud-mouthed friend behind. "Nice digs," the man said. "We'll see how long it lasts," Morris replied. "All right, I can sort out this junk later. Let's head to our quarters." They set off for their small shared room. Due to their advanced rank in the enlisted group, not to mention their duties, they at least could have a bit more privacy. Thankfully, they were also friends, and neither of them snored. "No doubt the Major will have you running the squads through plenty of drills soon enough."

<style type="text/css"> div#container { width: 95%; margin: 0 auto; padding: 10px 2.5%; background: transparent; color: inherit; font: normal normal normal 100% "Monotype.com", "Courier New", Courier, monospace; text-align: center; border: 2px solid #666; } div.section { width: 90%; margin: 0px auto 10px auto; padding: 5px 5%; background: transparent; color: inherit; border-left: 1px solid #C00; border-bottom: 1px solid #C00; text-align: left; } table.data { width: 100%; margin: 0; padding: 0; background: transparent; color: inherit; border: none; } td.leftcol { width: 50%; margin: 0; padding: 1px 2px; background: transparent; color: inherit; border-bottom: 1px dashed #AAA; font-weight: bold; font-variant: small-caps; letter-spacing: 0.1em; text-ailgn: left; vertical-align: top; } td.right { width: 50%; margin: 0; padding: 1px 2px; background: transparent; color: inherit; border-bottom: 1px dashed #AAA; text-align: right; vertical-align: bottom; } div.para { width: 100%; margin: 2px auto 3px auto; padding: 0; background: transparent; color: inherit; border: none; text-indent: 1em; line-height: 150%; text-align: left; } div.para2 { width: 98%; margin: 5px auto 5px auto; padding: 0 1%; background: transparent; color: inherit; border: none; text-align: left; } div.h1 { width: 98%; margin: 0 auto 25px auto; padding: 0 1%; font-size: 200%; font-weight: bold; } div.h2 { width: 98%; margin: 0 auto 15px auto; padding: 0 1%; font-size: 150%; font-variant: small-caps; letter-spacing; 0.15em; } div.h3 { width: 98%; margin: 0 auto 5px auto; padding: 0 1%; font-size: 125%; font-weight; bold; } div.h3a { width: 99%; margin: 0 auto 5px auto; padding: 0 1% 0 0; font-size: 110%; text-align: left; font-weight: bold; border-bottom: 1px solid #666; } img.mainphoto { float: right; border: 3px solid #C00; } </style> <div id="container"> <div class="section" style="height: 262px;"> <img src="http://i215.photobucket.com/albums/cc316/MrehKhal/MattMorris/004a.jpg" alt="Matt Morris Personnel File Photo" class="mainphoto" title="Matt Morris Personnel File Photo"/> <div class="h1">Starfleet Marines</div> <div class="h2">Personnel File</div> <div class="h3">Sgt Matthew Kenneth Morris</div> <div class="para2"><strong>ID: </strong>334-557-AX-3321-C</div> <div style="height: 50px;"></div> <div class="para2"><strong>Classification: </strong> α3</div> <div class="para2"><strong>Updated On: </strong>SD 10712.11</div> </div> <div class="section"> <div class="h3a">Personal Data</div> <table class="data" summary="Personal Data" cellspacing="0"> <tr> <td class="leftcol">Name:</td> <td class="right">Matthew Kenneth Morris</td> </tr> <tr> <td class="leftcol">Preffered Address (Informal):</td> <td class="right">Matt</td> </tr> <tr> <td class="leftcol">Gender:</td> <td class="right">Male</td> </tr> <tr> <td class="leftcol">Species:</td> <td class="right">Human</td> </tr> <tr> <td class="leftcol">Skin:</td> <td class="right">Light</td> </tr> <tr> <td class="leftcol">Hair:</td> <td class="right">Black</td> </tr> <tr> <td class="leftcol">Eyes:</td> <td class="right">Grey</td> </tr> <tr> <td class="leftcol">Height:</td> <td class="right">199.6 cm</td> </tr> <tr> <td class="leftcol">Weight:</td> <td class="right">79.38 kg</td> </tr> <tr> <td class="leftcol">Place of Birth:</td> <td class="right">UFP<br/>Earth<br/>Boulder, CO; North America</td> </tr> <tr> <td class="leftcol">Date of Birth:</td> <td class="right">April 10, 2338</td> </tr> </table> </div> <div class="section"> <div class="h3a">Starfleet Data</div> <table class="data" summary="Starfleet Data" cellspacing="0"> <tr> <td class="leftcol">Rank:</td> <td class="right">Sergeant (Sgt)</td> </tr> <tr> <td class="leftcol">Position:</td> <td class="right">Senior Non-Commissioned Officer (SNCO)</td> </tr> <tr> <td class="leftcol">Assignment:</td> <td class="right">USS Excalibur NCC-2004-C<br/>26^th Marine Company</td> </tr> </table> </div> <div class="section"> <div class="h3a">Medical Data</div> <table class="data" summary="Medical Data" cellspacing="0"> <tr> <td class="leftcol">Allergies:</td> <td class="right">None</td> </tr> <tr> <td class="leftcol">Conditions:</td> <td class="right">None</td> </tr> <tr> <td class="leftcol" rowspan="2">Last Physical Exam:</td> <td class="right">SD 10712.09</td> </tr> <tr> <td class="right">Score: 98.4 SFFI-P</td> </tr> <tr> <td class="leftcol" rowspan="2">Last Psychological Exam:</td> <td class="right">SD 10712.08</td> </tr> <tr> <td class="right">Score: 91.4 SFFI-Y</td> </tr> <tr> <td class="leftcol" rowspan="13">Prior Procedures</td> <td class="right">Surgery (Torn Left Labrum Repaired)</td> </tr> <tr> <td class="right">Surgery (Facial Reconstruction, Nose)</td> </tr> <tr> <td class="right">Surgery (Torn Right ACL Repaired)</td> </tr> <tr> <td class="right">Surgery (Torn Right MCL Repaired)</td> </tr> <tr> <td class="right">Surgery (Torn Right Achilles Tendon Repaired)</td> </tr> <tr> <td class="right">Surgery (Fractured Left Tibia Reconstruction)</td> </tr> <tr> <td class="right">Surgery (Fractured Right Tibia Replacement)</td> </tr> <tr> <td class="right">Surgery (Fractured Right Femur Replacement)</td> </tr> <tr> <td class="right">Surgery (Right Hamstring Reconstruction)</td> </tr> <tr> <td class="right">Surgery (Right Quadricep Reconstruction)</td> </tr> <tr> <td class="right">Surgery (Right Gastrocnemius Reconstruction)</td> </tr> <tr> <td class="right">Surgery (Right Tibialis Anterior Replacement)</td> </tr> <tr> <td class="right">Surgery (Right Soleus Reconstruction)</td> </tr> </table> </div> <div class="section"> <div class="h3a">Family Data</div> <table class="data" summary="Family Data" cellspacing="0"> <tr> <td class="leftcol">Father:</td> <td class="right">James Troy Morris: (Male, 96 SY)<br/>Retired Professor of Terran Literature<br/>University of Colorado at Boulder; Earth<br/>Resides: Boulder CO</td> </tr> <tr> <td class="leftcol">Mother:</td> <td class="right">Ellen Joyce (Reed) Morris: (Female, 84 SY)<br/>Receptionist, TwinStar Enterprises Foundry<br/>Alpha Centauri IIa<br/>Resides: Freemont, Alpha Centauri IIa</td> </tr> <tr> <td class="leftcol">Siblings:</td> <td class="right">None</td> </tr> <tr> <td class="leftcol">Spouse(s):</td> <td class="right">None</td> </tr> <tr> <td class="leftcol">Children:</td> <td class="right">None</td> </tr> </table> </div> <div class="section"> <div class="h3a">Summary</div> <div class="para">Born in Boulder, Colorado to parents James and Ellen, Matt was from an early age both precocious and aggressive. Entered into early-entry schooling at three years of age, he was dismissed from the Unity Academy outside of Vail after six months for repeated quarreling with classmates. Attempts at standard pre-schooling thereafter went awry quickly as well, and he was eventually kept at home with his mother. Attempts by medical professionals in multiple disciplines to discover the roots of these aggressive tendencies were unsuccessful during these years.</div> <div class="para">Upon entering primary schooling at age 5, Matt was again expelled from a school after placing a fellow classmate in the hospital with serious injuries. Strain in his parents marriage due to these difficulties led to the divorce of his parents eight months later as their child was offered an opportunity at a school in Australia that specialized in providing individual care for students with various difficulties. Both Matt and his mother moved to Adelaide while James remained behind in Boulder.</div> <div class="para">Matt's early stay at the Thorne school were not without further disciplinary difficulties due to the boy's aggresive antics. However, after one semester a Vulcan specialist was brought in for an attempt at teaching Matt the mental disciplines of their race. T'Lask was the one to discover the basic root of the boy's difficulties after a few short weeks. After discovering that he was a passive empath, which was causing the inner turmoil, the Vulcan along with a Betazoid pyschologist that was called in were able to teach Matt ways of coping with the pressing emotions. Suppressing medications were also supplied during these early stages to allow him the ability to control his own responses.</div> <div class="para">His aggressive tendencies diminished over the course of the next few years, and with the continued teachings of T'Lask, he was able to maintain control over himself. At this time he also began martial arts training. His grades finally reached the level one would expect with his innate intelligence, and he finished his primary schooling at Thorne. Afterwards, he remained in Adelaide for his secondary education at a preperatory school there and graduated Salutatorian.</div> <div class="para">Though eligible to attempt the Starfleet Academy Entrance Exams, Matt chose instead to enlist, not wishing at the time to deal with more schooling after his up and down youth. His excellent physique and martial arts expertise made security a natural choice, and he became Crewman 3rd Class Morris and was assigned to the security details around Geneva. The various different engagements and wars that precipitated through this era made the position more important than ever.</div> <div class="para">Shortly after transferring to Betazed, the Dominion attacked and Matt was severely wounded. Suffering severe injuries to his lower body, many reconstruction and replacement surgeries were required on his legs, primarily his right. Rather than enduring these surgeries and later therapy idly, he continued to study during this time and was then able to return to full active duty in more capacities. Taking more active roles in training, planning and administration, his superiors were impressed by his skills and he continued to rise in rank.</div> <div class="para">After he rose in rank to Petty Officer 1st Class, he was approached in regards to becoming part of the new Marines. He accepted this offer and his rank was switched to Master Sergeant. Assisting with the program with training and other matters, he had his hands in right from the beginning, Still progressing through the ranks, he was temporarily assigned to the 2^nd Company as their traning NCO.</div> <div class="para">His short time there was rated excellently, and he continued with another promotion to First Sergeant and his promotion to the SNCO of the 26th Marine Co. Along with Major Cloud Makisu, the company has now been assigned to the USS Excalibur C for the first Marine starship implemntation.</div> </div> <div class="section"> <div class="h3a">Psychological Summary</div> <div class="para">The passive empath ability of patient Morris is extremely rare in humans, and is not as accessible as the Betazoid or Vulcan abilities. Unable to pick apart any one emotion out of a pack, the "noise" is much like sitting in the center of a Football arena with all of the audience holding conversations. Without some sort of amplifier, it amounts to a sum of unambiguous clutter.</div> <div class="para">He does, however, remain sensitive if the majority of this emotional noise is of a similar type. A crowd in abject fear, for example, would cause him to feel the emotion similarly. It is for those situations where his training from his Vulcan tutor is the most useful.</div> </div> <div class="section"> <div class="h3a">Medical Summary</div> <div class="para">The medical reconstructive and replacement surgeries were performed successfully and have not caused him any undue difficulties. He is able to perform in any scenario physically. He may encounter occasional soreness and aches, and has a standing prescription for on-duty use analgesics as needed.</div> </div> </div>