The sound of boots thudded down the hallway at 0615 in the morning. The twelve marines marched in time with Brent in the rear of the formation. If they were on a marine base and doing their march Brent would have been calling out a loud and probably very rude cadence, but since it was a Fleet vessel and it was 0615 and Brent didn't want to have to get an ass chewing because some light sleeping fleeters had trouble getting their beauty sleep.
Worse yet would be more paperwork. Fortunately that was for officers and people who didn't really work for a living.
They marched up and down, around the deck for around a half an hour, before they took to a jeffries tube. The corporal had scouted the area out to make sure that nothing was wrong in it and made sure that all of his Marines were keeping to themselves. No playing grab ass with the man or woman in front of you. After a few levels up and down they were back on the barracks level before Brent finally relented and drove them back into the barracks to have them shower and eat breakfast. They were going to need it with the training they were going to have that day.
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Corporal Brent Warren
Marine
USS-Charon
