Meleager: CIC, Marine Ready Bay
"Good, concise, and accurate report, First Class Thompson. You haven't touched the refreshments and are standing by silently with a serious look on your face, so what is it?" Major Deering's voice was slightly strained--she was obviously already feeling the stress of being the Master-After-The-Gods of a combatant in a shooting war--but did not sound annoyed...just interested in being blunt and getting things done as effectively (and, if possible, efficiently) as she could.
Corporal Clarence looks closely at the case, the cable, and the shackle around Stryker's wrist, then has a conversation over the wireless on a two-way link Stryker can't hear for two minutes as Clarence hands Stryker a D117, 18 rounds of .75 Tamris (Vacuum), a set of CABA Mark I Body Armor (with the name "J. Buckley" emblazoned on it, accompanied by the rank markings of a First Lieutenant), an encrypted wireless set with a headset, and a hydration system/pouch harness combination. She then looks up at him, looks at the name on the Armor, looks at him really hard, and then speaks in a flat monotone.
"We have CAL USG forty-fives, Picon P90s, D102 Boarding Carbines, and a Vecter M101 'Special Application' Carbine. What's your flavor, Sir?" She continues to stare at him with a hard glint before briefly speaking up again. "Oh, and our resident 'security expert' is confident that anything besides the proper key that removes that case from your wrist is taking the lower forearm, if not the whole arm, with it." She returns to respectfully glaring at Stryker. (How you can respectfully glare eludes Striker, but Clarence is doing so. Quite well, actually.)