<br/>Dust took Church’s words in stride and shrugged them off. He didn’t know the man, or have access to his jacket, so he didn’t know if he’d seen any war time. It was his small opinion that conscience never had a place in war, but it always showed up to the party nonetheless. Conscience was the reason most people made horrible gut-rotting hooch in the first place, but that was a philosophical debate he’d skip at this point.<br/><br/><strong> "This is the Captain!  All hands brace for multiple impacts!" </strong><br/><br/>Dust heard the announcement and gritted his teeth. Yes, he’d signed his life away to escape the confines of a prison meant to keep a person weak and compliant, but at least they had that green molded stuff! That was good eatin’. He took a quick look around at some of the newer guys, and what was left of his heart went out to them. The poor bastards still had hope, but this wasn’t the part they had to be afraid of.  This was either a rock they couldn’t see and are trying to avoid, or someone knocking to get in. Neither was appetizing, but one would be more welcome than the next.<br/><br/>Well, he wasn’t the fucker driving, so he decided to put his boots away and take out his ass kickers. Non-regulation combat-grade materials with studded toe and metal heel. They’ve been with him for a good long time, and if he was going to buy it, he was going to make sure they were on when it happened. The Sarge flew through like a banshee just as he got his boots on and weapons locker open. The sudden lurch made his hand slam into the locker next to him, and he took a look at his CO. The look was more analytical than questioning, and when she merely screamed “Evasive Maneuvers” while going about her business, Dust was glad that the platoon had one thing right.<br/><br/><strong>WARNING! PRESSURE DROP! SEALING COMPARTMENT!</strong><br/><br/>Now THAT was worth looking scared about. Dust let out a soft “Sonuvabitch!” before the Sarge called for the freeze. Unfortunately he happened to have a heavy piece of armor in an uncomfortable position at the time, but the bitch said freeze, and that meant freeze. Dust breathed as slowly as he could and tried to let the pain in…and out. His muscles were tense as she searched for the hole, and were screaming by the time she’d patched the hole up. A hole there sucking air meant there were guys like them currently wandering the great black vacuum. Only way to know who got the better deal was to have them send a post card.<br/><br/>He had to chuckle when the Sarge told them not to just stand there. His arms burned from the freeze, but he would just need to get a little movement in them. No sweat.  He had more practice getting his shit on in emergency situations, so he readied himself and forced some poor green bastard to check him, and then forced the other greenie beside<em>him</em>to check again. The second greenie made a small correction to his ammo feed and he gave the guy a slap on the shoulder before looking pointedly at the first greenie “Now turn around and let father have a looksy”. He checked the kid out, stretching her, and clamping there. When he was done, he asked “comfy?” to which the man shook his head in a ‘no’ fashion. “Good. Comfort gets you killed”<br/><br/>He took a look around to see who else needed help and gravitated to the LT as the man walked in. He hadn’t see the other private go down, and from the sad look on the medic’s face, the guy was a goner. His eyes went back to the LT, and he put his own hand down with a small grin. Okay, two right things so far. This might be a little fun after all.<br/><br/>