== /\ USS Gott; ODA Headquarters /\ ==== The Gott wasn't exactly set up to house the ODA, when he said he was in ODA HQ he was actually in a rather low spec Security Office for a Starfleet Naval ship. The Office was a lot smaller than his on the Chimera, well, not that it was around anymore. He'd heard a lot of the crew complaining that they were only able to take one or two personal items at best, and those were the lucky ones who seemed to find the time to set aside some time to go looting. For Walsh he had everything he needed that was dear to him. His hand stroked the barrel of the pulse pistol that he kept with him on all missions. It wasn't exactly SSF Regulation, but the only people on the ship that would be able to tell were The General and Corporal Cortez, and Cortez wasn't exactly going to be putting a note in his report about it. He travelled light, a duffel with a uniform, whatever book he was reading at the time and a bottle of whisky or something of equal foul taste. Leaning back he grabbed the PADD tighter in his hands and grimaced slightly reading down the list of casualties. The ODA had suffered the brunt of losses on the mission, it was going to need to be completely reorganized and restructured. They never did Find Lieutenant Scotts body for one. Interestingly enough, Jack was having a lot of hassle with Special Forces Command vis-a-vis restaffing the unit. They would of course give him the men he needed, but apparently it was pending a review. He assumed that meant because there was such a high level of casualties they were going to be looking into the Unit Commanders ability, which meant the buck ultimately stopped with him, and if they decided that they needed someone to crucify for this it was going to be his neck on the plate, nobody else's. Politics. Sliding out of his chair nonchalantly he made his way out into the main area, which was a state to be honest, wrecked consoles about the place, blood on the walls, possibly a stray limb over in the far corner of the room, but nobody could be arsed to go and have a look for fear of finding the rest of the body. A Small group of the team were huddled around a turned over console playing poker and drinking whatever alcoholic beverages they so desired. The General or Commander Guzman could walk in at any moment, but frankly Jack didn't care, his Officers, men and women alike had endured a supremely shitty time and he wasn't going to pull them up just yet. He assumed that SSF would have to assign them a new ship, they couldn't keep this one, it was either about to be decommissioned or scrapped for spare parts. Moments later his Comm. Badge Chimed and an unfamiliar voice informed everyone in a shipwide announcement that the USS Gott was now restricted access only, which meant everyone would have to vacate. Tapping the pistol on his hip to make sure that it was still there he nodded to the small unit who were now looking at him. "You heard the desk jockey. Pack up and ship out" Walsh turned on his heel and made his way out of the Offices and towards the nearest airlock, where there seemed to be a bit of a pile up, everyone was trying to get off at the same time and it was causing a bit of ruckus. "Corporal Pressman, Lieutenant Errington." Assume Sentry Duty at the airlock and post a man every 20 meters down this main access corridor to ensure the smooth flow of people off the ship, all this pushing and shoving isn't going to get us anywhere" Jack growled pushing a Lieutenant off him and marching past everyone out of the Airlock onto the station. Great, no ship, no quarters, no entertainment. Just a bar that if they remembered his face he wouldn't bloody be able to drink there. === Major Jack Walsh ODA Commander USS Chimera, SSF