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Mar. 18th, 2014 10:59 amAdrian Shephard is, by and large, an easygoing man who doesn't let much bother him. It's a character trait that's served him well; he wouldn't have gotten into the Scout Sniper program without it. Not that he doesn't get angry, mind. He does, as anyone who's ever heard him whip out the full depths of his vocabulary can attest. But by and large, he saves it for the things that are really worth getting angry about.
He's not a stupid man. Never has been, despite the mile-high stack of stereotypes that follows him around- hillbilly, drummer, backwoods hunter, grunt, Marine. He's got a brain, and he uses it, and he's done pretty well that way so far. Grace Augustine probably meant it as a compliment when she said he was too smart to be a fighting man; her kind usually does. He's known what he's needed to, and he's outlived a whole hell of a lot of other people, and he's saved a lot of other people in the process. He's done his job and he's done it damned well.
Thing is.
Ms. Vance gave him a ship. Oh, Borealis has that AI to handle a lot of its basic functions, but he's still the commanding officer. It's not a combat vessel, but it's the only real ship his people have, and it's vitally important to their development and interaction with the rest of the world. It's a nuclear-powered icebreaker with an actual crew, and he's in charge of it.
He's... honestly he's not sure any more, maybe twenty-four, maybe twenty-five. Stephen Decatur's age, when they gave him Constitution. He had a high school education and a whole lot of combat and survival training, but that's about it- he never expected to wind up a commissioned officer. He's in fucking command of a teleporting nuclear vessel at a younger age than any American naval commander ever, and he has a goddamned high school diploma. He's got less idea how his ship works than he does of how his Buell runs. He's not in charge because he deserves to be, or because he knows how to be; he's in charge because Ms. Vance thought he showed more interest than anyone else. That's all.
And, ship aside, he's History Division by default. He's training up the people Ms. Vance let him recruit to follow in the traditions and tactics and combat doctrines of the Marines, and they're learning well, but there's so goddamned much else besides- stuff he only barely remembers, or that he only knows because it's in those notebooks he filled up back when he had his original right hand. There's things he's only learned after the fact when he's looked back at something the metal hand wrote in his sleep, spilling out the lives and stories of all the Marines who fell after Black Mesa. Things he should've known and been able to recall on his own, but didn't.
When he has a job to do, he likes to fucking well know how to do it, and right now he doesn't. Bumi's trying to teach him about the ship and that's coming along okay, but there's way, way, way too much he doesn't know yet. There are things he needs to know that he never stopped to learn, and that other people are going to have to learn someday, and-
Adrian Shephard is not a stupid man. He does not like the quiet, creeping, undeniable sense that maybe he actually is.
He's going to have to do something about that.
He's not a stupid man. Never has been, despite the mile-high stack of stereotypes that follows him around- hillbilly, drummer, backwoods hunter, grunt, Marine. He's got a brain, and he uses it, and he's done pretty well that way so far. Grace Augustine probably meant it as a compliment when she said he was too smart to be a fighting man; her kind usually does. He's known what he's needed to, and he's outlived a whole hell of a lot of other people, and he's saved a lot of other people in the process. He's done his job and he's done it damned well.
Thing is.
Ms. Vance gave him a ship. Oh, Borealis has that AI to handle a lot of its basic functions, but he's still the commanding officer. It's not a combat vessel, but it's the only real ship his people have, and it's vitally important to their development and interaction with the rest of the world. It's a nuclear-powered icebreaker with an actual crew, and he's in charge of it.
He's... honestly he's not sure any more, maybe twenty-four, maybe twenty-five. Stephen Decatur's age, when they gave him Constitution. He had a high school education and a whole lot of combat and survival training, but that's about it- he never expected to wind up a commissioned officer. He's in fucking command of a teleporting nuclear vessel at a younger age than any American naval commander ever, and he has a goddamned high school diploma. He's got less idea how his ship works than he does of how his Buell runs. He's not in charge because he deserves to be, or because he knows how to be; he's in charge because Ms. Vance thought he showed more interest than anyone else. That's all.
And, ship aside, he's History Division by default. He's training up the people Ms. Vance let him recruit to follow in the traditions and tactics and combat doctrines of the Marines, and they're learning well, but there's so goddamned much else besides- stuff he only barely remembers, or that he only knows because it's in those notebooks he filled up back when he had his original right hand. There's things he's only learned after the fact when he's looked back at something the metal hand wrote in his sleep, spilling out the lives and stories of all the Marines who fell after Black Mesa. Things he should've known and been able to recall on his own, but didn't.
When he has a job to do, he likes to fucking well know how to do it, and right now he doesn't. Bumi's trying to teach him about the ship and that's coming along okay, but there's way, way, way too much he doesn't know yet. There are things he needs to know that he never stopped to learn, and that other people are going to have to learn someday, and-
Adrian Shephard is not a stupid man. He does not like the quiet, creeping, undeniable sense that maybe he actually is.
He's going to have to do something about that.
