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Sgt M Morris

After Wort's World

Morris would be the first to admit he hated starships. He preferred being on planets, even if it meant it was likely he was going to get shot at. This time he made an exception, however, because the planet he had just left made his top three list of places to never visit again without a planet buster bomb. As soon as they invented it. The team beamed up without any warning whatsoever, fouling the transporter room and causing the transporter room chief to start gagging in the process. He'd requested a site-to-site transport for the Marine contingent to the "in" side of their own decontamination unit, and the transporter chief, in between retching noises, seemed more than eager to comply.


So, with one last shimmer they arrived and promptly stripped down. Morris was highly disappointed after getting a closer look at his boots. He'd need to destroy them, it was always a pain to break in new ones, and his secondary pair wasn't nearly there yet. He and Alpha Squad dumped most of what they had been wearing and carrying straight into the modified replicator on the side of the room. The machine, not hooked up to the regular replication network, had a direct line to space and never made a thing. Instead it broke anything in it's maw to its molecular parts and sent them off to dance in the vacuum. The only things not put into the "spacer" were the weapons. Instead, the power packs were removed after any residual charge in the internal phaser coils were dumped into them, and then the collection of weaponry joined the Marines in the decontamination chamber.


Thankfully Starfleet had improved this process over the years. Indeed, the transporter itself was a more effective decontaminator than some of the original chambers designed for the purpose. However, when coated with as much organic based muck and grime as the away team had been, the transporter couldn't risk getting too fine with the process or it might shave off a layer or two of the poor guy underneath. So, the squad stood in little individual nooks in the chamber and let various frequencies and intensities of EM rays, sound, and a few other technological tricks do their work. Considering the basic premise of the Marines, to go slogging through on planets doing dirty work, the Marine decon chamber was as much sonic shower as microbe killer. Scrubbing as if each of their individual lives counted on it (and considering some of the nasty life forms they were carrying, it probably did depend on it), the Marines rid themselves of layers of gook and malicious microbials over a space of fifteen minutes.


Morris eventually emerged nearly as pink as he had when he'd shot out of the womb, and so did the others. With the exception of the Andorian, of course, who'd couldn't recall ever being quite that blue and shiny. They dressed quickly and with an economy of moves on the other side in the locker room all of the Marines shared. The gaping hole left by the three men who were missing from this was not lost on any of them, and they were silent save for the rustle of cloth and the whir of the replicator as some of the squad ordered their new boots.


Squeaky clean, the contingent made their way out, one by one, and headed over to the smaller conference room for a debriefing. Morris knew the next time they saw action Beta Squad would be up if only a single squad was needed, and he feared by the time they reached port after this mission Makisu would be asking for more than just three replacements. Hopefully, Starfleet will have seen the light by then and increase the Marine presence on board the Excalibur to a full four squad unit.


Only time would tell.

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