Born the youngest of four children to the Cassidy family, Thomas Reed (just Reed as he is called) was never left wanting. His family owned a large business that was primarily a group of commercial farms as well as the various mines. During his upbringing his father would take the kids to some of the out of the way places for camping and hunting. It is from his father, and from his earliest age, that he was taught that weapons, especially guns, were not idle toys and to shoot them properly. They were, always remain, to be tools. Important tools, yes, but tools all the same.
It was on these trips that Reed found his natural talents, his tracking and shooting skills were well above those of his older siblings as well as his sense of direction and map reading skills. Being tossed into the woods with nothing more than his sense of direction, a much battered compass and a canteen of water was not, to him, punishment but a welcomed challenge. One that he always excelled at, often returning home well ahead of expectation to find his father, with a grin upon his face, waiting with the words: about time.
Reed was given the best of everything which included the best schools money could buy. Private schools where the norm, his future all mapped out. He would finish school, attend Virgon University, serve as an Officer in the Navy. When his time was up return home with honors and work the family business. It was not far fetched to think that he would retire, easily, as a Lt. Colonel or above, after all, he had the breeding, education, social connections, financial backing and with it all the political savvy that he would need to excel in this career path. The Cassidys, after all, were military men, as far back as anyone cared to look. Serving with distinction. And, failing that, dying while accomplishing something important. Which, in and of itself, is distinctive all the same.
A natural athlete, Reed took to playing Pyramid at an early age. By junior year many colleges were trying to woo him over to play for them. But it was settled, he graduated and went to Virgon University as planned. There he excelled in math, most notably geometry as well as the physical sciences. But all throughout he played Pyramid. Starting at first as a Point then graduating (as he saw it) to Swings. His future was looking bright and in his Junior year Scouts for teams from the Colonial Pyramid League were speaking to him and offering him contracts. But his future was planned, it was to finish at the University and then join the Navy. A game, after all, is a game; a career is what he had set in front of him, a course charted, no game was going to distract him from these objectives.
Till the fateful night after a stunning victory over rivals from Astraia University. Obviously a celebration was in order. Not being much of a drinker himself Reed never the less went to the party but left early. He tried to talk his best friend and roommate to go with him to no avail. The next morning Reed woke to the news that his friend, and all occupants of both vehicles, had died when a driver in the other lane fell asleep.
Reed was beyond stunned, his whole world was turned upside down. Things so clear were now cloudy, plans made so long ago now seemed so insignificant, the future cast in deep shadow. Two days went by as Reed tried to understand it all, happening across a recruitment poster for the Colonial Marines: Make a difference. Two more days went by, his mind turning over and over those words. On the third morning, on his way to class, he stopped short and knew his mind was made up. Instead of going to class he turned his back and went to the Marine Recruiter where he promptly signed up.
The next thing Reed knew he was at CMF Eos on Picon for basic training. The nine weeks seemed to fly by, the biggest joy was when they actually got to go shoot. Where he qualified as Expert. The Crucible was right up his alley and Reed excelled at it. The lack of sleep, the drives of marches, all of it just seemed to give Reed even more of a push. His Drill Sergeant swears as the time went on Reed got stronger. Surely that was just him boasting, right? Granted, the same Sergeant was known to smile, a certain type of grin really, when grumbling remarks were made about the division prankster. Who the hell, pardon the phrase, could sneak out past hours, do the damnest clever pranks, and never once get caught. No matter how many times the division had to march around in the rain, in the mud, no one ever stepped forward, pointed a finger, dropped a name. Perhaps because no one had a name to provide, perhaps because they were proud to have one among them to accomplish these pranks. After all, having someone who is sneaky, if a prankster, among their ranks might prove useful at some point.
From there Reed went on to AIT. Again Reed flourished under the harsh training, taking the challenges, the bone breaking, sweat dripping, mind numbing exercises as they were intended. To break each recruit down into individual, composite, parts and rebuild again - stronger. To be the soldier, the marine, that the corps needed, when and where and as it needed, and to do so to it’s - his - fullest potential. Again he came out qualified as Expert as well as excelling in actual field work. Map reading was a breeze once he understood the details of the maps that the Marines used. At the end he finished top in his group and was granted five days leave.
He showed up at home back on Virgon much to the shock, consternation and down right anger for his actions. The first three days at home where worse than anything he had done in the preceding months after joining the CMC. Everyone, after all, has ties that bind; to family, to friends, to brothers in arms, ties that link to everyone and everything. But especially to family. And no one, no one ever, can twist knot those ties up like family; after all, those ties were placed by family in the first place. Enlisted? Unacceptable! A common MARINE, not an officer, not an officer candidate, not a graduate of university. But on PAR with any other youth to walk in off the street to enlist? Unfathomable! The Cassidy’s are Officers! Strongly worded conversations, calls could be placed, names could be mentioned, pressure, subtle or not, could be applied. WOULD be applied. Cassidy’s, however, are not just stubborn. Mule-headed is a good phrase. Granite like is another. Perhaps even adamantine. But stubborn they are. Reed would not be budged, family ties and connections would not be used, returning to university to lounge and loaf away the next two years was unacceptable, untenable, and the young Reed, the young man, would not be hedged in, boxed in, shelved once again. By the end of his leave a tense, and not entirely amicable, stand off had been achieved.
Returning back to CMF Eos and with a few weeks to spare before shipping out, word of a retirement party reached him. Perfect time for a joke. Employing a variety of clever and not entirely by the regs tricks he snuck to where the party was at, stole as many unattended uniform bits that he could and then locked them in a clear, bullet proof case right in front of where the party was being held. A bullet proof case under a bright and glaring spotlight that made all those stolen uniform bits gleam, shine, sparkle and in all manner look very pretty. Save for that they were all stolen, and on display, not easily obtainable, for all attendees of this party to see, speculate upon, especially the owners of these uniform. His plans fell apart before they could be enjoyed. For that was War Day. Again Reed’s world turned upside down with the only change was now he could make a difference.
He and ten others formed a team and began harassing the enemy, hit and run, behind the lines distruptions. The band grew and soon they were put into active roles, fighting. Then came the call that no Marine can sit by and do nothing. Word came that a thrown together group lead by some hot shot newly Commissioned Officer was pinned down, taking heavy losses and were close to being over run. Reed and his platoon volunteered and answered the call. They arrived, helped save those they could but the loss was staggering and to make matters worse they were just kids. Only five were still alive, some barely, including the hotshot Ensign, who Reed later learned was named Kostas. Reed’s platoon were split up after that, so many other platoons were so short handed that most went to fill in the depleted ranks. Reed was left to wait two more days till he learned his fate.
Reed was transfered from command to command, in each one he proved his worth, filling in where needed. Finally he was offered permanent, as permanent as the CMC is, duty station and Reed was offered his choice. It didn’t take him long to find out that there was this hot shot Ensign named Kostas was on the Orion and he requested to be transferred to her platoon.
