Back on your feet
Posted on Wed May 20th, 2026 @ 3:29pm by Captain Samuel Woolheater & Master Sergeant Moses Henderson
Mission:
Interlude
Location: Galley - Deck 32 - Marine Country
Timeline: Today
1145 words - 2.3 OF Standard Post Measure
(( Galley – Marine Country Deck 32 – USS Elysium ))
There should have been more of them. Woolheater didn’t need a roster to know that. The galley wasn’t empty. Weapons were still racked. Armor still hung where it had been left. But the space felt hollow. Too much space between bodies.
He stood just inside the compartment, eyes moving once, slow and deliberate, taking in who was there… and who wasn’t.
A breath in. Slow. Let it out.
He’d done what he could already, paperwork no one wanted, letters no one should have to write. The Colonel would finish them. Make them personal. Make them final.
That part was done. This part mattered just as much to Samuel.
Woolheater stepped to the replicator, drew a mug, and nodded to the Marines present - nothing more than that - before choosing a table off to the side. Not hidden but also not central.
Just…out of the way.
He sat and waited. He didn’t give his thoughts room to settle.
Henderson wouldn’t be long.
A few moments later, the large, Heavy Weapons NCO stepped into the Spartans Galley. He nodded to a few of the Marines that acknowledged him, as he strode over to where Woolheater sat. "X-O," he said in a respectful tone as he lowered his heavy bulk down onto the duranium stool.
"Master Sergeant, good to see you on your feet. How are you feeling Henderson?"
The big man grinned as he replied. "Still feel like i went a few rounds with a squad of Borg kickboxers, but I'll live, Sir."
Sam gave a slight nod. A pause and then Sam flatly said, “Yeah. You look it.” Not unkind. Just honest. A smile crept on his face and before Henderson could counter Samuel's eyes held on Henderson a second longer than casual.
“Med clear you?” A beat—tight, controlled. “Or you just ignore ‘em and walk anyway?”
Moses grinned slightly as he replied. "A little bit of both, Sir."
The corner of his mouth shifted. Almost a smile. Then he leaned back slightly, letting the question settle before moving on.
“Master Sergeant, we’re light. And too many more missions like the last one and the whole platoon will fit on a bookmark." A glance across the galley. Empty seats. Missing bodies. “Too light.”
Back to Henderson.
“Figure we start fixing that before it turns into something worse.”
The big man nodded, a grim look on his face. "Yes Sir. The problem is, we don't have a pool of fresh bodies to train up. The best we have are the influx of Romulan forces that would need to be cross-trained to fit in with how we operate."
Sam was quiet for a moment after that. Not dismissive but just thinking. His fingers tapped once against the side of the mug before stilling again. Then he took a swig of coffee and set the mug down.
“I was thinking the same thing. Hell, we can teach procedures,” he said finally. “Weapons. GDMP and Boarding doctrine. Field rotations. That part’s easy.”
His eyes drifted briefly toward the armor racks along the bulkhead.
“Hard part’s teaching people to trust the person next to ‘em when the deck splits open.”
A pause.
“That...that's gonna....that'll....yeah...take time.”
He leaned back slightly in the chair and rested his arms on the galley table looking at the huge Marine across from him. Henderson was like the rock of Gibraltar. Either that or the Energizer Bunny.
“Still…” A faint exhale through his nose. “Might not have the luxury of waiting for perfect. Right? We can be perfect or we can be dead.”
Henderson nodded thoughtfully. "Yes, Sir. We need to use what we have to keep the ship and crew safe."
Woolheater looked back toward Henderson. “If they’re willing to learn, we train ‘em. Properly. No half-ass measures. No throwing bodies into Spartan armor and pretending a patch and good behavior makes ‘em Marines.”
Another glance around the galley. “People earn this place.”
Quiet settled again for a second before Sam added: “And if we do it right… maybe one day they’ll be the ones keeping somebody else alive when everything goes sideways.”
"I hope so," Henderson replied. "From what I've heard about how they handled themselves during the recent battle, well, maybe they aren't too badly trained."
Sam nodded, "I'm willing to try. What's our next step then Master Sergeant? Gami? Or the Colonel?"
Moses gave the executive officer a look of slight confusion, as he asked, "What do you mean, Sir?"
Sam blinked once at the look Henderson gave him, then gave a faint grunt through his nose. "I mean Gami’s got a better read on integration than I do. Especially with the Romulan detachments. Figure she’d know pretty quick whether this is workable or whether we’re about to create three new problems trying to solve one.”
A small pause.
“And you’ve been doing this longer than I’ve been shaving properly, Master Sergeant. So if this idea smells stupid, now’s probably the time to say so.”
Moses took a few beats to carefully consider what Samuel had said. Then, he replied thoughtfully. "Given the manpower shortage and influx of Romulan troopers...it might be a better idea to create a new unit of a more cohesive fighting force. That way, we all learn together how to work as one unit."
That earned the faintest trace of a smirk from Woolheater before his expression settled again. His eyes drifted briefly toward the galley around them again.
“Can’t replace cohesion once a unit loses it. A new unit huh? Romulans and SFMC working together.”
Another beat.
“You think the Romulan's will go for it? 'cause I know a guy. A Legate in fact.”
The big man shrugged slightly. "What other choice do they have? Their ship is gone, and we are the only chance for them to survive. It is in both of our collective interests to work together to either find a way home, or unite to find a new home out here, Sir."
Sam's narrowed, playfully at Henderson, "I haven't picked out my thirteen acres just yet Marine. I'd like to talk with MSgt Gami first all the same before bringing this up to the Colonel. Maybe by then my office will be fixed? "
Moses grinned in reply. "You asked for my thoughts. Sir. You know that a dangerous thing to do with an NCO." He chuckled good-humorously.
Sam nodded and smiled, "Henderson"...Sam said and then a beat passed. "I count on you Master Sergeant. I mean more than just the daily grind. There's fewer of us now and that..." He hesitated but spoke plainly, "You do your job well. And that means a lot to me. Keep it up Marine."
[OFF:]
