blood in the stone, 1/?
Nov. 4th, 2005 10:25 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
boogieshoesBlood in the Stone:
Chapter 1
He was not surprised to see Jim Ellison come into the Base Commandant's office, moving like a submarine in deep water: sleek, strong, confident, his true menace his ability to hide, quiet, doggo, until he wanted you to see him. And then it was too late, he had you, and you were gone in a torpedo-induced explosion.
He was only slightly surprised to see Sandburg behind Ellison, in that the man had bowed to necessity already and cut his hair. Not a regulation buzz - although that would come sooner or later, as Sandburg adapted to a world where cold practicality subsumed and destroyed the gentler ideologies as often as not. He'd known the moment he'd met the man that Sandburg harbored his own streak of stubborn independence that could not be pushed - how could it be otherwise, and have accomplished as much as he had by 29? That streak could be molded, maybe, made useful to their purposes. He hoped so; they really couldn't afford to have Sandburg working against them in any capacity.
He snorted mentally, feeling the waves of resentment and anxiety radiating off of both men. Delicately, he tasted the flavor of Sandburg's emotions: rebellion; a strong desire to decieve the military (the pigs!) and simply disappear; worry about Ellison so strong and clear that it carried thought pictures of Sandburg's worst fears - dissection tables, soulless researchers, ellison abused and tortured until catatonic and unwilling or able to come out of it. Unfortunately, not unrealistic, those fears, although they would never happen *here*, where General Foraker fought hard to protect the sentinels and guides from exploitation by darker, more secret, government programs. Again, that flare of rebellion - but intertwined seamlessly with the overwhelming loyalty and urge to protect Ellison, and that would be the saving grace of it all. Christ, what a mess.
:: He reminds you of yourself when you first enlisted.::
:: Sandburg? He absolutely does *not*! I *never* plotted to bring about the destruction an entire military base.::
:: No, you just plotted to have the Warhawk's engines conveniantly disabled at Pearl so you and Buck could chase hula skirts for a few extra days!::
Chris carefully did not look at Vin Tanner, sitting next to him in his own freshly-pressed US Army Seargant First Class uniform. He knew if he did, he'd haul off and hit the man, and starting a brawl in the Commandant's office for no other reason than that his sentinel was being smugly and irritatingly right was no way for a newly commissioned Navy Captain to behave. Especially when the Commandant couldn't hear the conversation. Even if it would have been eminantly satisfying to wipe that little smirk off of Tanner's face.
****
"Colonel Ellison, Leuitenant Sandburg, please, have a seat," General Foraker said.
Chris turned his full attention to the meeting at hand. General Foraker had decided to frame this meeting as an introduction to SOG - Sentinal/Guide Operations Group - in an effort to belay Sandburg's paranoia. Privately, Chris thought the real problem was Sandburg's hippy upbringing. It was true that Brackett had done a wonderful job re-inforcing Sandburg's innate distrust of the government, but that anti-establishment attitude had been nurtured and molded by his mother first. Sandburg's mother had dragged him to all kinds of protests throughout his childhood, had constantly preached to her son of the evils of big government and how horrible its institutions were. Being a child of the 60s, it was a no-brainer that the military came out the worst in her view. That viewpoint was thoroughly ingrained into Blair Sandburg's psyche. That viewpoint was going to have to change.
Chris doubted that just talking to Sandburg would win him over - he was far too smart to fall for a line of bull, especially when all reports indicated that handing *out* bull was one of his major talents. But win him over they must, one way or the other. Chris was betting on the other - had, in fact, already told General Foraker that he'd be happy to see to it. General Foraker thought him a little cold in his attitude. Chris *knew* he was a little cold - cold and hard and bloodthirsty.
Ellison they wouldn't have to worry about. No matter how resentful and angry he was, he was also a professional soldier. He had volunteered for this gig once - and thus for the rest of his life, if necessary.
Normally, it wouldn't have been. Sentinel or not, Ranger or not, Ellison was just not unusual enough for SOG to go nuts over when he'd come back online in the mid-90s. Nor were any members of SOG particularly special in the normal scheme of things. Normally, they'd have been allowed to retire at the end of their enlistment terms, with only a brief, extra stop at SOG Debriefing on the way out the door. Normally, SOG retirees could expect the same benefits - with some mildly altered provisions based on OPSEC and personell needs - as other ex-military personell. Normally, SOG retirees could expect to be recalled at the same rate as other retirees were - which is to say, so rarely as to be effectively never. Normally, Ellison and Sandburg would have been left alone to pursue careers in the Cascade PD - or in the tabloids - and Chris and Vin would have been left alone to track down and eliminate the sources of various illegal drugs in Denver with the rest of Team 7 at the DEA's local area office.
Things were hardly normal anymore.
88888888888
ok... end story snippet. a good beginning, i think. those of you who read MAG7 fic will note that i've turned team 7 into DEA agents - i really, really hate the ATF as an agency. i just can't condone their actions - which is to pretty much curtail our legal consumption of guns, alcohol and tobacco (no, i'm not kidding, it's right in the name!), so i'm giving chris something mildly more heroic to do. drugs, at least, are illegal to own...
comments? criticisms? great big globs of greasy grimy golpher guts?
-bs
He was not surprised to see Jim Ellison come into the Base Commandant's office, moving like a submarine in deep water: sleek, strong, confident, his true menace his ability to hide, quiet, doggo, until he wanted you to see him. And then it was too late, he had you, and you were gone in a torpedo-induced explosion.
He was only slightly surprised to see Sandburg behind Ellison, in that the man had bowed to necessity already and cut his hair. Not a regulation buzz - although that would come sooner or later, as Sandburg adapted to a world where cold practicality subsumed and destroyed the gentler ideologies as often as not. He'd known the moment he'd met the man that Sandburg harbored his own streak of stubborn independence that could not be pushed - how could it be otherwise, and have accomplished as much as he had by 29? That streak could be molded, maybe, made useful to their purposes. He hoped so; they really couldn't afford to have Sandburg working against them in any capacity.
He snorted mentally, feeling the waves of resentment and anxiety radiating off of both men. Delicately, he tasted the flavor of Sandburg's emotions: rebellion; a strong desire to decieve the military (the pigs!) and simply disappear; worry about Ellison so strong and clear that it carried thought pictures of Sandburg's worst fears - dissection tables, soulless researchers, ellison abused and tortured until catatonic and unwilling or able to come out of it. Unfortunately, not unrealistic, those fears, although they would never happen *here*, where General Foraker fought hard to protect the sentinels and guides from exploitation by darker, more secret, government programs. Again, that flare of rebellion - but intertwined seamlessly with the overwhelming loyalty and urge to protect Ellison, and that would be the saving grace of it all. Christ, what a mess.
:: He reminds you of yourself when you first enlisted.::
:: Sandburg? He absolutely does *not*! I *never* plotted to bring about the destruction an entire military base.::
:: No, you just plotted to have the Warhawk's engines conveniantly disabled at Pearl so you and Buck could chase hula skirts for a few extra days!::
Chris carefully did not look at Vin Tanner, sitting next to him in his own freshly-pressed US Army Seargant First Class uniform. He knew if he did, he'd haul off and hit the man, and starting a brawl in the Commandant's office for no other reason than that his sentinel was being smugly and irritatingly right was no way for a newly commissioned Navy Captain to behave. Especially when the Commandant couldn't hear the conversation. Even if it would have been eminantly satisfying to wipe that little smirk off of Tanner's face.
****
"Colonel Ellison, Leuitenant Sandburg, please, have a seat," General Foraker said.
Chris turned his full attention to the meeting at hand. General Foraker had decided to frame this meeting as an introduction to SOG - Sentinal/Guide Operations Group - in an effort to belay Sandburg's paranoia. Privately, Chris thought the real problem was Sandburg's hippy upbringing. It was true that Brackett had done a wonderful job re-inforcing Sandburg's innate distrust of the government, but that anti-establishment attitude had been nurtured and molded by his mother first. Sandburg's mother had dragged him to all kinds of protests throughout his childhood, had constantly preached to her son of the evils of big government and how horrible its institutions were. Being a child of the 60s, it was a no-brainer that the military came out the worst in her view. That viewpoint was thoroughly ingrained into Blair Sandburg's psyche. That viewpoint was going to have to change.
Chris doubted that just talking to Sandburg would win him over - he was far too smart to fall for a line of bull, especially when all reports indicated that handing *out* bull was one of his major talents. But win him over they must, one way or the other. Chris was betting on the other - had, in fact, already told General Foraker that he'd be happy to see to it. General Foraker thought him a little cold in his attitude. Chris *knew* he was a little cold - cold and hard and bloodthirsty.
Ellison they wouldn't have to worry about. No matter how resentful and angry he was, he was also a professional soldier. He had volunteered for this gig once - and thus for the rest of his life, if necessary.
Normally, it wouldn't have been. Sentinel or not, Ranger or not, Ellison was just not unusual enough for SOG to go nuts over when he'd come back online in the mid-90s. Nor were any members of SOG particularly special in the normal scheme of things. Normally, they'd have been allowed to retire at the end of their enlistment terms, with only a brief, extra stop at SOG Debriefing on the way out the door. Normally, SOG retirees could expect the same benefits - with some mildly altered provisions based on OPSEC and personell needs - as other ex-military personell. Normally, SOG retirees could expect to be recalled at the same rate as other retirees were - which is to say, so rarely as to be effectively never. Normally, Ellison and Sandburg would have been left alone to pursue careers in the Cascade PD - or in the tabloids - and Chris and Vin would have been left alone to track down and eliminate the sources of various illegal drugs in Denver with the rest of Team 7 at the DEA's local area office.
Things were hardly normal anymore.
88888888888
ok... end story snippet. a good beginning, i think. those of you who read MAG7 fic will note that i've turned team 7 into DEA agents - i really, really hate the ATF as an agency. i just can't condone their actions - which is to pretty much curtail our legal consumption of guns, alcohol and tobacco (no, i'm not kidding, it's right in the name!), so i'm giving chris something mildly more heroic to do. drugs, at least, are illegal to own...
comments? criticisms? great big globs of greasy grimy golpher guts?
-bs
