Ghosts and Glass [Commonwealth Dominion of Cerea]

[Jackson Mills]

Tag: [member="Dean Letham"] [member="Gunther Creed"]
(2/20)

[SIZE=12pt] “Abrams! Displace to the left flank!” Sergeant Mills ordered, screaming to be heard over the sound of gunfire and incoming blaster bolts. The Vagaari had begun to grow more and more aggressive with their tactics toward the stranded Marines since they had realized that they weren’t just going to give up and die. They had started sending out skirmishers to engage with the Marines at close range, which was forcing the Marines to be much more fluid with their defensive positions. When one flank got more attention from the Vagaari, that flank got more attention from the Marines. The only reason that they weren’t dead yet was the cover provided by the crater, and their ability to access the wrecked dropships arms locker to stock up on ammunition. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=12pt]Jackson raised himself up over the edge of the crater and saw a Vagaari soldier running toward a piece of rubble near the crash site for cover. Before he could get there the Sergeant fired the last five rounds in his magazine at him. Two of the rounds went wide, but three of them caught the enemy soldier in the chest. Ichor and tissue exploded from the exit wounds, and the soldier crumpled in a heap on the street. The assault rifle in his hands was smoking now from the sheer volume of fire that he had been pouring through it, and he decided it would be unsafe to continue to feed ammunition through it until it cooled down. He sought cover in the crater once more, set the rifle on the ground, and grabbed another one from next to him. They had each taken turns going into the dropship and removing rifles and ammunition and laying them out at the different flanks for quick access. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=12pt]Jack slid a fresh magazine into the mag well of his rifle and slapped it home, then yanked the charging handle sending a round into the chamber. He was acting completely on auto pilot now, having performed these actions dozens of times in just the last few minutes. His head was throbbing and he was fairly certain that he had a concussion, but the adrenaline from the fight was keeping him going now. He could deal with head trauma later, but only if he lived that long. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=12pt]He raised out of the crater again, and again sighted in on the new targets that had presented themselves. He fired on them, taking down two but missing two others who managed to make it to cover, and proceeded to fire blindly around cover toward their position. Mills was about to start suppressing fire, but stopped himself and glanced back toward the waning ammunition supply. They’d be down to pistols soon at this rate. “No suppressing fire!” He called to the Marines. “Try to keep it to three and four round bursts!”[/SIZE]

[SIZE=12pt]“They’re charging middle!” Called MacMillan, who was sharing the middle flank with Jones.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=12pt]“On my way!” Jackson responded. He turned to Corporal Taylor and gestured for him to remain on right flank, then moved to the center. There were about a dozen Vagaari making a mad charge toward them from across the street. Mills, MacMillan and Jones all fired into the mob, shredding them. One actually made it to the crater, but several rounds from the Sergeants rifle tore through the abdomen of the creature and sending it cartwheeling into the crater lifelessly. Some of the blood from that engagement spattered onto Jacksons chest plate, and he wiped it with his off hand. He thought for a moment that he could try and boost the morale of the troops nearest him, and he begun wryly, “Man, I just had this thing dryclea-” [/SIZE]

[SIZE=12pt]Abruptly the wind was knocked out of him and he fell back onto the ground. He gasped for air, and finally it came back to him. He felt his chest plate and found a deep, hot, blackened gash that didn’t quite penetrate the plate. A bolt from a blaster rifle had glanced off of his chest plate and knocked him back. He rolled his eyes and cried out, “Those suckers shot me. They shot me!” he turned to the Marines who were looking at him with concern. “Man the line! I’m fine…” He said, then scooped up his rifle and returned to right flank. “This is not my best day ever.” He muttered under his breath, then resumed firing on their attackers. [/SIZE]

 

[Rayce Tharelle]

Tharelle, Rayce
​Commander-in-Chief, Commonwealth Marine Corps
​Escape Pod Crash Site, 10 Kliks South-Southeast of the Citadel
Post [5/20]

Looking around, Tharelle could see that most of the survivors in the field were armed; one of the few benefits of a defensive boarding action, he supposed. Every survivor here was a member of the Commonwealth military, either Navy personnel or Marines. The pod had held ten people, and none of them looked to be injured severely.

"Gather supplies, and prepare to move out,"​ he said, adopting his 'command voice' so as to be heard over the myriad distractions. ​"We'll rendezvous with the 906th; no use sitting here in a field."

Walking forward, he clapped a hand on Sergeant Starkos shoulder as he walked by. ​"Starkos, take point."

He wasn't looking forward to a ten kilometer hike - or more accurately, his body wasn't looking forward to one - but he knew what they had to do.

[member="Sasha Starkos"]

 

[Alleycat]

Location: Escape Pod Crash Site, 10 km SSE of Citadel
Objective: Hook up with the 906th
(9)

They were about six miles away from the Oute Citadel where the main offensive against the Vagaari was being made. There were flashes of light and loud sounds in the distance coming from that direction, but it was hard to tell exactly what the lay of the land was just yet. Sasha knew her original squad with fellow Marines [member="Eli Brooks"], [member="Cait Falcor"], and [member="Zee"] had been headed there. The Corellisi wished she was with Alpha Seven et al, but this is where the Marine sniper was needed at the moment.

"Starkos, take point."

[ Yes, sir! ] Sash responded soundly with a nod of her helmeted head, then brought her sniper rifle up to the ready and headed to the front of the group; her long legs carrying the Corellisi quickly with the grace of a dancer and the stealth of a feline.

The terrain was varied until they got closer to the Citadel. Sasha kept checking back ever so often in a concerned way to see how [member="Rayce Tharelle"] was doing. The CIC seemingly was putting on a brave front. She knew her father had to be hurting. Hopefully the "White King" (hair) could just give orders and not have to do any of the fighting himself. At least Sasha would do what she could so he didn't have to; but once a Marine, always a Marine.

As the surviving group from the Surprise got closer to the Citadel, Sergeant Starkos slipped ahead to scout things out using the scope on her rifle to get a clearer picture from the advantage of a sniper's position.

[ White King, this is Red Knight… I have eyes on Team Alpha. They are taking heavy crossfire. ] she reported, then inquired. [ Permission to give them a long hand? ] If Sash could take out from afar some of the entrenched Vagaari guns giving the Staff Sergeant something to think about, it could get his team across the substantial distance they needed to cross and further help the 906th take the fight to the alien warriors.

 

[Progflaw99]

--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---​

Location: Cerea, Outsider Citadel, Maintenance Tunnel Entry​

Objective: MC-D​

In Vicinity:​

[member="Sasha Starkos"] | [member="Neldar Poska"] | [member="Dean Letham"] | [member="Isaac Knight"] | [member="Warfield Lester"]​

[member="Cait Falcor"] | [member="The Collective"] | [member="Kel Hamner"]​

Post: 4/ 20(?)​

--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---​

​

A sharp static on the comms jarred his attention from the tunnels and corridors ahead, his gaze snapping to the rear. They'd moved quick but he could still see the entrance they'd passed through after their sprint across open ground. He saw Falcor but... was that Zee on the comm? It sounded like something was happening. Clenching his jaw he jogged back to where Falcor was. He could just make out the words of the transmission. Keep on mission... For a frantic moment he was caught between two hard decisions, many lives would lie in the balance. Everything inside of him screamed to go rushing back out of the tunnels and recover Zee's squad. He'd yet to leave a man behind but this? This was chaos. He'd been hearing other units reporting casualty counts before comms had gone down and none of it was good. So far his small group had made it unmolested but he wasn't sure for how long.

All it took was one glance at Cait to know they were both struggling with the same decision, her likely moreso than himself. As he opened his mouth to respond a flicker of movement caught his eye at the very edge of his vision. With all the energy and force he could he dove towards Falcor, hoping to knock her to the ground as low as possible. With a loud, concussive explosion, several Commonwealth Marines had been swallowed up by the blast, others thrown against the walls of the corridor, shrapnel causing sparks to fly off the edges of the cavern mouth.

A loud ringing and a cough of dust later Eli realized he was still on top of his fellow Marine. Rolling off sideways he fell to the floor as he tried to mentally take stock of his body. His rifle. First, his rifle. His eyes searched frantically for the weapon, locking in on a twisted hulk of Commonwealth metal he found it. It would be no help to him. Secondly he looked back to where he'd tackled Falcor to the floor, he hoped she hadn't taken too unkindly to his aggressive maneuver. Already Marines who had been closer to the entrance were beginning to fire at something outside the cavern. He saw the gunfire but the ringing in his ears hadn't stopped, and the pain. Forcing himself up on one knee he began to see the damage the weapon had caused. Several Commonwealth Marines lay unmoving near where the blast had detonated, others were already dragging their fellow soldiers deeper into the cavern away from the enemy who'd lured them into the trap.

An ambush. How could he have been so blind to it. Everyone had been reporting contact, he should have been prepared. Shaking his head he tried to clear his mind, causing him to nearly lose the contents of his stomach. That blast had been close.

"Falcor..." He coughed. "Get up."

The Staff Sergeant offered a hand as he rose himself.

"We need to get deeper into the caves, away from this choke point. We can't linger."

Raising his voice he opened up the short wave comm.

::Let's go, get deeper into the caves now, break engagement!::

Drawing his sidearm from its holster he waved his arm towards the depths of the tunnels, activating a helmet light as his men and women began to disengage and draw deeper into the maintenance caverns and eventually tunnels. Zee would make it, Eli had faith in her abilities but that didn't keep it from grating at him. A few of the bulkier Commonwealth Marines had hefted their fallen brothers and sisters over their shoulders now, following. They had to move now, the doc could look at them as soon as they reached a more defend-able position. Stopping and waving his men forward he kept an eye on the end, he had to be sure they'd gotten everyone.

 

[George]

Location: Outsider Citadel
Near: [member="Sasha Starkos"] | [member="Neldar Poska"] | [member="Dean Letham"] | [member="Isaac Knight"] | [member="Warfield Lester"] | [member="Cait Falcor"] | [member="The Collective"] | [member="Kel Hamner"] | [member="Eli Brooks"] | [member="Gunther Creed"]
Post: 1

[ X ]​

George had visited Cerea twice before in his life. Both occasions had obviously been due to the delivery or pick up of cargo as he over the years had encountered some good honest contacts on the planet. It was after all a great refueling location before jumping to the Sanctuary Pipeline. So with the eventual dreams of getting to own a hangar on the planet, the wise thing to do was to get some good friends that were familiar with how things worked there. However, while this third visit had earned him and his freight group a sizeable amount of credits, it was quite obvious now that things were far from perfect.

George had just finished his meeting and his glass of beer with his business contact when the first explosions had shaken the Outsider Citadel and people had begun panicking. It had taken a while before George had gotten a good understanding of the events that were taking place, after all the Citadels were enormous and the Vaagari’s assault on the structure had been delayed simply because of that fact. He was not exactly used to cities being placed within skyscrapers and had for a while escorted a group of Cerean shop owners that would try to sit tight in their homes, simply so he could get pointed in the right direction towards the public hangar in which his ship was placed.

By the time they had reached the Cereans’ houses, the Commonwealth had arrived in orbit. Ever since then, George had carefully moved through the Outsider Citadel, trying to make it to the hangar. Suddenly, while moving through an unlit hall, the cries of war was heard in the distance. The familiar bellowing of slugthrowers and explosions reverberating through the long corridors.

Quickly, George moved towards the walls of the corridor and positioned his large frame partly behind a pillar that hopefully served as a decoration and not support of the roof above. He peeked part of his head out from behind the pillar alongside his hands that were holding a MM99 securely in its grasp. Despite how clean it was, it was obvious the weapon had been used a lot in the past. A souvenir from his time as a Shock Trooper. It was impossible to discern hostile from friendly in the dark, his heartbeat increased as whatever was out there neared his position. "Blue!?" He yelled, his thick accent that of an Alexandrian from Uluru. Coming to think about it, how could he even be sure the Commonwealth were friendlies? They had slaughtered his King.

 

[The Upright Man]

[member="Jackson Mills"]
12/20

Small arms fire echoed down the corridor-like streets. A gust of ash and acrid smoke billowed into Deans face, forcing the Jaguar to suppress his coughing lest he give away his position. He was twenty yards from the crash site now. The fireteam was deadly silent, no one would speak. Dean moved for the nearest door and gently squeezed on the handle and slowly let the door swing open. The fireteam moved in, crouching and watching their steps for glass that could give away their position.

A Vagaari stood an arms length distance from Dean now, the aliens attention drawn to the window as it shot bursts of blaster rounds towards the pinned marines. While short, the alien appeared menacing in an exotic way. Robes dragged behind its feet, layer upon layer of bright vibrant colors. Entirely strange. Dean looked to the marines and presented a single finger to his lips, ushering silence, then indicated to the Vagaari standing at the other windowsills. As one they moved up, and in a fluid motion each marine and Dean unsheathed a vibrodagger, activated the blade and eased the weapon into the spinal cords at the neck.

The Vagaari dropped with a thud and no resistance. Dean moved to the window and checked the sight, monitoring where the points of contact were for the Vagaari. They had the crash site surrounded. 'Go,' Dean mouthed with his lips, flapping his hands in the direction of the next room. One by one, slowly but surely, the Vagaari in the windows were being killed and their suppression fire on the crater would cease. Dean still made no move to contact the pinned marines, he dare not give away his location to the Vagaari.

 

[Jackson Mills]

“Running low!” Jackson shouted to the remaining Marines as he rose over the lip of the crater and let loose the remaining four rounds in his assault rifle. The rounds went wild save for one, which tore through the arm of the Vaagari soldier. The creature stumbled, then righted itself and skittered into cover nearby. The Sergeant cursed himself for the shoddy display of marksmanship and ducked back into cover to reload. They’d been pinned in the crater for probably 15 minutes? It was hard to tell. Jacksons shoulder was growing numb from the near constant rifle fire, his ears took in muffled sound from the loud reports from the slugthrowers, and his senses were overwhelmed by the smell of sulfur and burnt flesh.

He reached for the magazine pouches on his belt and felt them collapse in his grasp, completely empty. The stockpile from the dropship had also dried up. He turned and looked at the body next to him. Jones had caught a blaster bolt in the face from a sniper a couple of minutes ago, and on the other side of the crater lay the body of MacMillan who had been caught in a hail of fire that his body armor hadn’t been able to stop. Jones still had a pair of magazines in his belt. “I’m sorry Marine.” He muttered, and pulled the magazines from the Marines belt, feeding one into his rifle and placing the other in his own belt.

Abruptly the incoming fire seemed to slack a bit. It very likely could have been a trick he knew, but so far the Vaagari hadn’t really shown much interest in using such feints against he and his Marines. He decided to risk it, and raised his head over the lip of the crater to take stock of what was happening. The fire from one of the buildings had almost completely stopped, and some of the troops on the ground level seemed so be a little perplexed by the sudden reduction of suppression fire from the building. It was entirely possible that this was a ruse to lure he and his men out of cover, but at this point Jackson was willing to take those odds. At this rate it would be death while dug in at the dropship or death while storming toward the building, but at least with the one there was some hope of relief.

“Marines, rally to me!” He called to the surviving squad, his voice hoarse from shouting over the gunfire. The Marines looked a little confused at being pulled off of their defensive positions, but they came to him regardless. They were tired and their moral was low, it was clear on their faces. He could tell that they were starting to resign themselves to a bloody end. It was time to get them out of there. “The fire slacked up from that building over there. That is their fatal mistake. We’re going to charge them and take that building. I don’t know what we’re going to find in there, but whatever it is we’re going to meet it like Marines. We’re gonna blow the hell out of them. And when we run out of ammo, we’re going to take our knives, cut out their guts and strangle them with them. We’re not out of this fight yet, men.” They nodded, and he could see a little steel coming back into their faces. That was good they’d probably need it.

“Follow me!” Jackson cried, and charged up over the lip of the crater. Almost immediately blaster bolts came flying at him from the sides, but he ignored them and began his charge. A thought crossed through his mind then. If this was going to be his last act in the galaxy, he had better go out like a Marine. He opened his mouth and issued forth a powerful, bloodthirsty battlecry. He heard the Marines behind him also cry, which somehow made him feel even more confident. He was charging into hell and his men had his back. This was a good way to go.

As he charged, bellowing his battlecry, he awaited the blaster bolt that would take him out of the world, but it never came. As he came upon the building he lowered his shoulder and used his armor clad body and his built up momentum to plow through the front door. The door splintered open and he brought himself to a stop. In in the room next to him were six Vaagari soldiers who seemed genuinely perplexed by the sudden turn of events. The odd thing was that they weren’t lined up at the windows, they seemed to be on the lookout for something else inside the building. Paying it no mind, Jackson bellowed another war cry and raised his rifle to his shoulder. He held down the trigger and swept his rifle across the group, cutting through them and leaving them in a bloody mess on the floor. His Marines plowed into the building after him, all bellowing their war cries. They had all made it.

“Form up on me.” He said, dropping his magazine from his rifle and slotting his last remaining mag into his weapon. He advanced until he came to a corner and held up his fist, indicating that his squad should stop. He thought he could make out the sound of a footstep, but he wasn’t sure. He steeled himself and rounded the corner, finger sitting on his trigger and muzzle raised; pointing directly at a team of Marines. “Woah!” He shouted, “Hold up!” He called, both to the other team and his own who were just rounding the corner with him. He looked the other team over until he identified the man who was obviously in charge, then addressed him. “I’m Sergeant Mills, 365th Infantry Battalion…Boy am I glad to see you…”

 

[Cait Falcor]

SSG Cait Falcor, Commonwealth Marine
Location: Cerea, Outsider Citadel, Maintenance Tunnel Entry
Objective: MC-D
In Vicinity: [member="Dean Letham"], [member="Eli Brooks"], [member="Zee"], [member="Horus"]
Post: 4
--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---

Cait's radio began to buzz with activity from Zee's Overwatch Team. Cait stopped, frozen in mute terror as something probably atrocious happened to Dark, Turing and of course Zee.

She warred internally for maybe four seconds about sending a fire team to exfil her group, but internally she knew that was exactly what they wanted.

Who is "They"?

Cait assumed in this instance "They" were Vaagari, but she had no way of knowing that. She's seen far too many rookie Jedi "Officers", her mind temporarily filling with scorn at the very concept, send good soldiers to their deaths in fruitless piecemeal "go check that out" endeavors.

Rescuing Zee would mean moving in force or not going at all, and that would mean abandoning the mission. Cait was in an impossible position, too many Commonwealth lives relied on Brook's Task Force securing the Compound.

SGT MacArthur stepped forward with her fire team, obviously offering to go. "No. Alicia. We...we stay on task" Cait choked out. It was a good thing she could make her face-mask opaque when necessary, though Cait was nearly certain that the young junior NCO knew how devastated her boss was.

***

SSG Brooks came padding down, concern evident on his face.

I need to reassure him I'm not going to go do anything stupid. I'm still at least half a mercenary in his eyes.

Cait was in the process of nodding to him when her position was wracked with concussive explosions. Cait's world went black, she felt a huge weight press in upon her, but she could not spare the mental processes to determine what it was. I hope I'm not being crushed by the tunnel.

Slowly, awareness of the world around her began to dawn again, and she saw a fuzzy, gauntleted fist in front of her face. As her vision began to focus again, her awareness trailed up the armored arm, ending in Brook's bloodies face looking through a scuffed helm.

He...body-shielded me.

"Falcor...get up" he coughed. She gave him a determined look, silently telegraphing "thank you" before grabbing his hand. Together they stood her up, and she grabbed her carbine, checking its functionality. With a nod again, Brooks ran off to his element, deeper into the tunnel.

'We need to get deeper into the tunnels, away from this choke point! We can't linger!" he called over the comms. Cait couldn't agree more and began a stuttering series of orders to 3rd and 4th squad.

***

Casualty reports began to flood in, both trailing squads - 3rd and 4th - were hit, 4 wounded, 2 KIA. Cait would have to mourn later.

The mouth of the tunnel had been prepared with IEDs or mines and the Vaagari had launched a Complex Ambush upon the Marine forces when they were properly bracketed.

We walked right into it. Damnit. Cait was furious with herself.

Now a roughly platoon sized element was nipping at the rear echelons while Cait was nearly certain she could hear small arms fire and what sounded like grenades deeper in the tunnel as well. Brooks must have his hands full.

"3rd, 4th, fall back by sections. Reverse leap-frog. YOU WATCH EACH OTHER'S ASSES. Call out your fire, sweep your sectors. We are too frakking spread out!"

Cait snapper her Carbine to her shoulder and put a burst of fire into a group of Vaagari behind a small rock cluster a dozen or so meters away. She saw one go down, winged in the shoulder or arm, but it crawled behind cover under its own power. Need to hit the range she thought to herself.

The Marines kept up a withering torrent of fire as nearly 24 weapons came to life, laying waste to anything that moved in line of sight from the mouth of the tunnel. They fell back, four-person fire teams withdrawing in a reverse leap-frog. Cait saw dozens of Vaagari lain low by disciplined Commonwealth fire.

And yet the Vaagari came on.

The fight was not one sided. Marines moves with precision and fought with discipline. But there was no cover, and they made an easy target. To turn and run would be to invite slaughter, and so...with iron discipline and grim resolve, they stared down the face of death.

Vaagari fire was less disciplined, but clearly more numerous. Quantity has a quality, all its own...

More casualty reports came in. What had started as 26 marines was getting smaller. In a purely tactical sense, Dead were better than Wounded. Each Wounded Marine took at least two out of the fight, unless they were walking-wounded.

Cait's shoulder was bruised with the kick from her Carbine. She didn't notice. She gave out a nearly constant stream of orders to her sections, but while the world moved in slow motion, and seconds felt like hours, every moment of the fire fight blurred together.

*****
Combat Information Centre - CNS Twelfth Night

Dozens of engagements flared on the holographic displays. The fight on Cerea was a mess. Alarms blared and Yeomen and Fleeters worked their stations with every ounce of professionalism they could muster. But the tension in the CIC was palpable.

Bio-monitors on Marines in Brooks's task force winked from Green to Orange or Grey in an alarming frequency, and if anyone tapped into the SquadCom it was evident that...while they were giving a good account for themselves, the Marines on the ground were scared. Small arms fire rang out over the radio channels. They had been out-maneuvered and were being engaged by a superior force on ground of the enemy's choosing.

You didn't need a degree in Military Science to know that was a bad place to be.

The Radio flared up with an urgent call from TF-Brooks.

"This is Specialist Ibanez, 3-21 Light Foot...we're surrounded...I'm reporting..[takka tak tak tak] Task Force Brooks, Troops in Contact...[Brrrraattatata]. We have [FWOOOOM] wounded...KIA. Oh Force. Enemy strength [brraaatta] unknown, estimated at Company+. [Frag Out!]

Continuing mission...but request Napalm at mouth of Tunnel Complex. Coordinates on my signal. Need to [boof boof boof] secure our...rear!"

There were hundreds of "Urgent" calls for fire support, and only dozens of assets to deliver it. How to prioritize? And it wasn't like the Fleet didn't already have its hands full...

 

[The Upright Man]

[member="Jackson Mills"] | [member="Jacen Konshu"]
13/20

Dean Letham's blade became slick with blood, his hands drenched in the slimy crimson liquid and his fatigues were soaked, the marines were no different. A few of them rolled their shoulders at the ache of using the knives, it was certainly no easy task. The vibrations of the vibroknife made the job easier, but not by an awful lot. The fireteam were making quick work of the Vagaari opposition but they had caught on when they tried to hail their friendlies and were met with silence.

At first the Vagaari came into the room to check on the teams, that was met with a knife to the throat. It wasn't quick, either. He struggled for a moment, clawing at his own throat as the aliens lungs swelled with his own blood, there was a fit of movement, kicking and a muffled scream that sounded more like the gurgling of liquid. After that the other Vagaari had slammed the door shut. Dean and the marines were on the other side, sheathing their knives. They'd have to breach the room.

Small arms fire rang out and Dean checked his men to see which one had fired, none of them had. A few lone slugs shredded through the thin wall, "Hit the floor!" Dean roared. For a moment he was weightless, then just as instantly his chest slammed against the ground. A ting resounded in the room and a body thudded to the ground. "Holy fark!" one of the marines shrieked, "McLawrence is down!" Dean craned his neck and saw a thin slit in the marines helmet from which blood oozed out of.

Humanity told him to feel bad, his Jaguar training told him to push it out of his mind - so he did. "Get up, get up!" Dean shouted, picking up one of the men by the scruff of his neck and launching him onto his feat with the ease of a child playing with a doll. Cybernetic enhancement, he could thank CNI for that. The door swung open and a marine was leveled a rifle at Dean. "Stand down," Dean barked, but the sergeant was already one step ahead of him.

"Commander Letham," Dean offered, then hiked a thumb to the two marines behind him, the third laying flat on the floor, "They're with the 906th." The Jaguar turned his body to face his own fireteam, unlike the marines he was not wearing armor but only his fatigues. His powersuit had been lost at the start of the battle. "Take his tags, we'll come back for him later." The Jaguar then turned on Mills, "I hope your men aren't finished because this fight is far from over. We've got downed lifeboats all over the city needing rescue."

 

[Jackson Mills]

[member="Dean Letham"]
(4/20)

Sgt. Mills took stock of the Marines in front of him and gave them a nod. Seeing the team lead by a Commander was a bit of an odd sight, especially since the commander was devoid of any armor. He was taking in the moment, allowing himself to feel relief at finally being reunited with the Commonwealth forces and escaping the death trap that he had woken up to. Then he noticed the body.

He was about to offer condolences, but then he noticed the cause of the fatal wound. There was a clean hole punched through the Marines’ helmet that had been unmistakably caused by the AP ammunition from a slugthrower. He saw the holes in the wall and put the two together. A wave of nausea swept through his body and his knees weakened. He placed his hand on the wall to steady himself as he grew dizzy and his mouth went dry. He had been the only one yet to fire inside the building, and that left the blame for this incident squarely on his shoulders.

For a few seconds he stood there, working moisture back into his mouth. He worked hard to push his guilt out of his mind. He would take responsibility for his actions and stand trial if need be, but right now in the middle of a warzone was not the time to deal with such things. He steadied himself and squared his shoulders, then looked the commander in the eye. “We’re fit for fight, sir. We’re pretty much all on our last mags, but we’re ready. Lead on.” He tried to convey through his eyes what was on his mind. His guilt, his acceptance of that guilt, and the steel he had forced into his gut to continue this fight. He would have vocalized it, but that was a conversation to have in private, when not in front of the other members of the 906th.

 

[Ilium]

Location: ​Smuggler's hideout, locked in a box

(1/20)

​Ilium was desperate to get out....

​​By now the smuggler had left the hideout, probably to find more things to steal. Ilium was one of those unlucky things to be gobble up by the robber and spat out into an old dirty case. Ilium was a Shard, and that meant many people would mistake him for a priceless jewel, snatching him up and auctioning him to the highest bidder. This was the fifteenth person to 'own him.' Something was pressing against him, and old Rifle that probably was taken from and old bar patron from another planet. Many other items, clothing and weapons, cushioned him from the hard sides of the metal case. Ilium was helpless and was not capable of moving himself around since he was a Shard. A slave to his own destiny, he tried to think of a way out....THEN IT HIT HIM! He knew he had Force capabilities so why not call for help? If he had a hand he'd probably slap himself in embarrassment seeming how he hadn't tried it before. Ilium made one call, and one call only...

​"Hello, is anyone out there? I'm in desperate need of help right now! I've been robbed by a smuggler! And by robbed I mean I was literally the object that got robbed as well as the victim. But enough of that, there is an old temple near your position. It is currently unguarded and vulnerable to your forces. Please come soon, I can't get out alone!"

​Ilium sat idle waiting for his saviors to rescue him.

 

[Horus]

[member="Ilium"] | [member="Jackson Mills"] | [member="Dean Letham"] | [member="Cait Falcor"] | [member="George"] | [member="Eli Brooks"] | [member="Rayce Tharelle"] | [member="Sasha Starkos"] | [member="Jacen Konshu"]
14/20

You're, all of you, nothing but ghosts and glass, the words imprinted themselves into the mind of Horus. Images flashed before his eyes, millions would die, a world engulfed in flame. The Swarm was all-consuming, it would stop at nothing. By the Lord above, Horus had to stop them. His eyes burst open and he gasped for air. The venerable Lord of Admirals was surrounded by medical staff assessing him as he lay flat on his back on the cold steel of the command deck aboard the CNS Twelfth Night.

It had not been long since they arrived in the system and already it was almost too late. They were losing the battle. "Get out of my way!" he shouted, grabbing the closest man to him and using his tunic to haul himself back up and onto his feet. His eyes darted around the room, all was silent. They were watching him with great concern, "I'm fine, back to the battle!" Horus boomed across the deck. The crewman didn't hesitate at the order and quickly turned in their seats and continued operations.

Horus moved swiftly to the holodesk and observed the readings. The Surprise had already been abandoned by a majority of the crew. All lifeboats were gone, but IFF tags were still being picked up by a small crew on the command deck of the ship. Horus signaled a communications officer to link him in, "I gave an order to abandon ship, Captain." Horus spoke sternly, he demanded full authority of his personnel. "Negative sir, I cannot do that," a voice stuttered back. It wasn't the captain, the man on the screen was the ships pilot. A young lad, lanky but not tall, he was pale as milk with a uniform that looked to be designed for a man three times bigger than he was.

"OpFor are trying to take out the core, the hyperdrive is about to go critical," the young officer began to explain himself. The command deck behind him was a mess, corpses strewn across the floor. Loose wiring hung above his head and sparked wildly. "Myself and the other volunteers are going to crash the ship into the enemy sir." Volunteers? Horus thought, Lord, they were about to kill themselves! his mind began to race with what to say. Despite wanting to tell the man to stand down and abandon ship, he couldn't.

"Your name?" Horus asked softly and motioned for a crewmate to write it down. "John Report, sir." Someone shouted in the back of the transmission and John spun around. Blaster fire came screeching into the command deck, small arms fire was returned and they quickly sealed themselves onto the deck. The transmission cut out. "Provide support fire for the Surprise," Horus ordered. Fire crew nodded and began to fire a barrage of flak guns, harassing the enemy vessels.

The Swarm outnumbered him, and from the view of the deck he could see the Vagaari ships were pulling out, one by one they snapped out of existence and into hyperspace. Some lingered for a short while as Vagaari troops planetside began to bug out. "I want a tracker on those ships, asap, before they all get away!" Horus boomed. Someone shouted, "Lord Admiral, the Surprise is arming their nuclear warheads!"

Horus knew what was coming next. They'd make contact and explode, but the thought was not quite as surreal as the image itself. His eyes were fixated on the small outline of the Surprise in the far distance from the Twelfth Night. As quick as he could blink the Surprise transitioned into hyperspace. They vanished, and not a second later the Swarm fleet was replaced with a bright white light. The Surprise had just crashed into the Swarm flagship at light-speed, simultaneously igniting their warheads.

The entire fleet disappeared from existence, replaced by an asteroid belt of gnarled metal and shattered hulls. The light of the explosion was enough to imprint the image onto Horus' eyes, others shielded their gaze from the light, but as soon as it had come it was gone. There was nothing left. The IFF tags from on board the Surprise went offline.

 

[Janice Lastimosa]

Janice sat back in her pilot's chair, sighed, then looked back over the contract she was given. She thought to herself, why of all things would the commonwealth need help with a fight. She couldn't understand. The ship lurched forward, dropping out of hyperspace, Janice and Miranda looked on in horror to see wreckage around the planet Cerea.​

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"Gates get everyone ready looks like this is going to be fun."​

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"Yes Lastimosa."​

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Miranda walks back into the rear of the ship to get the rest of the team ready. As they start to make their way to the planet to assist the ground forces of the Commonwealth the hostile Swarm and Vagaari start to attack the small fighter. Janice and her group make a dash for Atmosphere, but take a hit in the engine, loosing control the small fighter, barrels towards the surface.​

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"Everyone brace for impact, I'm flying dead stick here."​

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With that Janice sends out distress call out on all Commonwealth channels, as well as giving their probable crash coordinates. Lastimosa jumps out the pilot seat and gets in the back of the ship. She straps herself into a seat, with the others.​

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"Impact in 3....2...1.."​

 

[George]

Location: Outsider Citadel
Near: [member="Janice Lastimosa"]
Post: 2

At the edge of George’s vision, two oddly shaped humanoids had approached his position as soon as he had called out to them, having thought they were friendlies. With a boom, one of their weapons had fired and pulverized a chunk of the pillar he was using as cover. Perplexed by the creatures, George had barely had time to squeeze his trigger and mumble 'what the kark' at the sight of the Vaagari when the recognizable roar of engines was heard shaking the corridor they stood in.

Without further warning, an explosion ripped the corridor as something crashed through the wall, breaking everything in its path as it slid across the floor where the Vaagari had once stood. Stunned, George coughed as dust filled his lungs, debris and destruction filling the corridor. It was then he realized what had caused the chaos. A troop transporter lay infront of him, having apparently been shot down judging from its burning engine.

Slowly George stood from his position, his pistol still held tightly in his grip as he ran towards the boarding ramp of the ship. “Everyone alright in there?!” He hammered a fist on the boarding ramp, hoping for a response.

 

[Janice Lastimosa]

"Yes we are all okay, who is out there?"​

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Janice wasn't sure where they were, or who was out there, right now all she knew someone was nearby. She unhooked herself and went the check the rest of the 6-4 members, making sure all were alright. Everyone seem to be alright. The rest unhooked themselves, and everyone started to look for a way to open the ship and get out there to find out who was there to welcome them, was it a friend or foe. At any rate the 6-4 would be prepared just in case. Janice looked around the ship, still not sure what hit them or where they were on the planet, but they had a job to do here, and never once has the 6-4 ever failed to complete a contract. Though this one was going to be hard now, since they might have to rely on the Commonwealth military, of which this contract stated not to get the military involved, Janice just laughed as she thought of that, as well as how no plan ever survives first contact. This was going to be an interesting job for all of them though.​

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[member="George"]​

 

[George]

Location: Outsider Citadel
Near: [member="Janice Lastimosa"] :: [member="Ilium"]
Posts: 3

For a moment George was speechless, unable to come up with an answer to the question the person on the other side had asked. He stuttered before regaining his voice, his mind returning to the battle at hand.
“Naval Intelligence!” He replied, his elderly voice filled with confidence as he talked. While it was indeed a lie, it would put him in a favorable position to the soldiers inside should he manage to keep up the facade. Furthermore, he knew enough about the military to pull it off, considering he had been a shock trooper himself once. Though his attire might raise suspicion. With a groan, George stepped over the rubble that surrounded the craft and moved towards the switch that would open the ramp to the ship and with a groan pulled it open as a portion of it remained shut.
Light from the battle torn sky flooded the small spaceship and with a smile behind the bushy beard of his, the tough looking, poorly dressed spacer looked at the crew inside. “Came in a little late for the show, aye?”

 

[Janice Lastimosa]

"I guess you could say that." Janice didn't want to tell anyone what the real reason why she was sent here, as some corporation back on Alexandria wanted some kind of tech to use for their new product. Now that everyone in the ship scavenged what they could that survived the crash it was time to get the hatch open to get out. Only problem was it was fused shut.​

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"It seems the hatch is fused shut, mind giving us a hand?"​

​

Janice hoped the man outside would but expected nothing of the sort, she started to try to wedge the door open, with the help of Gates and Cobb. The hatch was moving slowly but wouldn't open all the way. It didn't seem like they alone would be able to force the hatch open, and would require outside help to pry the door off. That wouldn't make them stop though, the members of the 6-4 would continue to take turns rotating each hour till help arrived or the door open.​

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[member="George"]​