USCMRPG

As Sal switched from swearing under his breath to swearing internally, He matched pace with Mark and began to retrace the squad's route back to Quinn's position. They'd take a slight curve, but it wasn't in fully open ground and hopefully less likely to be mined.

"Hurry, carefully..." He muttered, as he advanced. Body low, eyes toward the ground in front of him. He led the group, keeping an eye out for any mines that might be between them and Quinn.

<Roll Awareness>
<Advance toward Quinn's position, leading squad.>

The sounds of battle roaring in the background did not subside, but they did not increase either. They were steadily holding with the sound of small arms and vague explosions. There was no telling exactly what was going on in the background, but the in atmosphere vehicles were clearly turning around to take another pass at the location that 52nd Company was holding at.

But just before they arrived a visible black streak trailed from a far off rocket. It blazed a trail into the sky, though it was much smaller then the Surface-To-Orbit Missiles fired moments ago. It streaked up directly at the oncoming aircraft, which had no time to avoid it. The aircraft exploded into a raging ball of fire and metal and collided with the trees down below. The other aircraft altered course immediately, but was being chased by yet another missile.

And suddenly there was a whine on Giosso’s motion tracker. It was far off. The tracker was only able to read two hundred meters away, but it was unmistakable. Large clusters of human sized forces. They were moving slowly, but gradually closing the gap between them and the Eights.

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVWWWWWWWWWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Another missile raced from a far off position and began making its way into orbit.

”Permission Denied, Lieutenant.” McGehee shot back, seemingly more frazzled then he was a moment ago as he was reading the situation in front of him. ”Our intel on enemy assets was way off, and I’m reading a massive column moving right towards you! We are moving to regroup in orbit, and sanitizing the area.” McGehee gave a strong implication, but spelled it out. ”As in orbital bombardment. So get your platoon back and in position before you get overrun!” McGehee finished it with a simple, but comforting statement. ”We will be providing air support prior to pick up. ETA Two minutes. Now move it marine!”

This was all McGehee had to say. But as he ceased the visual of another dropship coming down over the position of 52nd Company was seen, with several others forming behind it.

< Actions

Morse wrote:And suddenly there was a whine on Giosso’s motion tracker. It was far off. The tracker was only able to read two hundred meters away, but it was unmistakable. Large clusters of human sized forces. They were moving slowly, but gradually closing the gap between them and the Eights.

Roberts followed Boothe and Giosso. Then he heard the motion tracker. "Mark, what the hell is that?"
<Tag Giosso>

Mark had paused and holstered his weapon and was still fiddle with the dials when Roberts asked about the clicks. A second later, Mark replied with a clear note of concern in his voice. "Multiple squads ahead, sweeping this way slow and careful. " He took another reading. "That direction." He added, pointing, "We've only got a little while before they make contact. Perhaps we could put the sentry guns between us and them, Ma'am?"

<Tag Sam/1st>

"Absolutely....just move FAST! Sal, you and me will help him; Roberts, cover us!" With that, Samantha get to helping Mark and Sal position the sentry guns as quickly as possible....

<Tag Mark, Sal & Roberts>

Dmitri heard the orders given and he took up the rear position once Sam got everyone in her squad moving. He kept his head on a swivel and his ears sharp for any incoming threats or further orders. As for what he thought of the situation ... well, he kept them to himself. Things were enough in the shitter already. No one needed morose griping to bring their spirits down even further. Still, Dmitri had no intention of simply laying down and dying. He had unfinished business to attend to before he would let Death take him.

Oksana.

If he didn't find her among the living, he'd look for her in hell. And if he didn't find her there, he'd claw his way up to heaven to search it top to bottom.

But first things first. Get out of this hell before walking into another, yes?

Dmitir checked the rounds he had left. Enough, perhaps, to do his part. Just what that part was, or rather the scope of it, remained to be seen.

"Roger," Sal's response was taciturn as he moved ahead and kept his eyes between the ground at his feet and the lay of the land ahead.

<Roll Awareness, Advance>

Grouping up on a singular position had the advantage of a 'quick' in and out, but damn it if it wouldn't concentrate the enemy on one position. Having the turrets could draw the fire and thin the numbers. Now they just had to move them quick.

"Hope the guns don't mind a quick repotting." Sal muttered.

Dave held a position with Quinn and the rest of 2nd squad and tried to sight down his rifle into the terrain surrounding the Eights. The noise and overhead distractions of missiles, aircraft and explosions served as a big distraction. Dave tried to focus his attention on their surroundings, "LT, are we holding here or going somewhere else? Is the rest of the platoon coming to us?" Dave checked in with the platoon leader.

Morse wrote: ”Permission Denied, Lieutenant.” McGehee shot back, seemingly more frazzled then he was a moment ago as he was reading the situation in front of him. ”Our intel on enemy assets was way off, and I’m reading a massive column moving right towards you! We are moving to regroup in orbit, and sanitizing the area.” McGehee gave a strong implication, but spelled it out. ”As in orbital bombardment. So get your platoon back and in position before you get overrun!” McGehee finished it with a simple, but comforting statement. ”We will be providing air support prior to pick up. ETA Two minutes. Now move it marine!”

This was all McGehee had to say. But as he ceased the visual of another dropship coming down over the position of 52nd Company was seen, with several others forming behind it.

< Actions

Quinn was about to snap back that a small unit had a better chance of infiltrating when Giosso sang out with the large amount of contacts on the motion tracker. Swallowing his own pride, he snarled into the comm unit "Eight Actual copies."

Dirk had the platoon falling back in good order, giving Quinn more time to think, which was crucial in a time like this. They were being forced back into the minefield and so had to be handled carefully.

"Sergeant, Corporal, fall back by squads. Two squads move, one holds. Use IR to identify possible mine locations. Head for the treeline, rendezvous on Morse. Move behind my unit, we're by the jeep." Now the jeep hadn't been used for centuries by the Marine Corps, however the appalachian remained in common use in some soldiers. In this case, it referred to the destroyed buggy that had come screaming in and been destroyed by an antipersonnel mine.

Medic Guy wrote:Dave held a position with Quinn and the rest of 2nd squad and tried to sight down his rifle into the terrain surrounding the Eights. The noise and overhead distractions of missiles, aircraft and explosions served as a big distraction. Dave tried to focus his attention on their surroundings, "LT, are we holding here or going somewhere else? Is the rest of the platoon coming to us?" Dave checked in with the platoon leader.

Ignoring the new guy's inability to read rank under fire, he answered in his trademark icy calm voice. "We're holding here for the rest of the platoon Marine. Watch your sector and be ready to open fire."

Suiting action to words, Quinn took a half-standing position, using the fairing of the buggy as a rest for his rifle as he watched the woods for enemies and friendlies.

Bell shifted his weight, his physical discomfort a reminder of the entire platoons uncomfortable situation.

He kept his eye and ears trained, fidgeting slightly with his pistol grip hand. He had nothing to add, his job didnt involve chatting right now.

The whining of the motion track which Giosso held became more and more insufferable as the enemy force slowly continued to approach. Though there was no sign that they were aware of the Marines in front of them, they did have vastly superior force in terms of numbers. And with the spread out line it would be difficult to deal with them in clusters, especially once they realized the USCM platoon was sitting right on top of them.

And then came the sound of the assistance, a glimmer of hope for the Marines who were falling back to be picked up. It was subtle roar at first, but turned into a harsh scream. It was powerful and imposing, though far off. But soon gave rise to a much more devastating affect, as the visual of a seemingly small metallic aircraft came into view.

The Cheyenne Dropship came in low and fast over the tree line, sweeping in swiftly so as to avoid enemies and making it a more difficult target to handle.

As it soared over head, it completely drowned out the sound of the battle happening far behind them.

Instantly the boxy rocket pods, mounted to the wings, lit up, as a barrage of missiles came colliding down upon the as of yet unseen Insurrection force moving towards the marines.

There were mixed sounds of screams and cries of pain further away, but were audible just after the Dropship flew further away.

The barrage was no doubt devastating and unexpected for the Insurrectionists, which was making the situation that much better for the Marines.

”Were gonna come around for one more pass, and we’re setting down. Get to the rendezvous now!” McGehee yelled out over the general com for all marines of the platoon to hear.

The Dropship lifted up in the air in an almost majestic way, smoothly transitioning to an upward position, listing slightly to port, and then beginning to straighten itself out to drop straight down on the insurrectionists ahead of them.

The sound of small arms fire attempting to break the Dropship before it came into position was clear, but it would have next to no affect on the powerful vehicle that was to rain down fire and death upon them.

FWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!

The sound was clear. There was no doubt in anyone’s mind what it was.

A rocket.

But it was not coming from the dropship, which was opening up with this massive machine gun barrel and releasing another set of rockets. Instead it came from the ground.

The Dropship had only a moment to attempt to bank to the left, but it was clearly the last action the vehicle would ever take.

The projectile collided with the underbelly of the Dropship.

There was no transmission, no words, not a murmur, not a scream.

Just the sight and sound an immense explosion ripping the dropship in half. Fire exploded out of the cockpit, the engines thundered into oblivion, and metal rained down in all directions, tearing through the tree line.

The rumbling escalated and then ceased almost as soon as it had begun. There was fire clearly burning through the trees before the platoon, and there was not a sound coming over the com from the dropship.

But the ticking on the motion tracker continued. Though the number of dots on the monitor seemed to be cut in half, it did not take away the numerical advantage that the Insurgents had.

For the a moment they held position, but not long after they continued their advance right in the direction of the marines.


< Actions

Sal had let our a cheer as the dropship had dropped high explosive hell on the oncoming insurrectionists. He had smiled at the idea of getting off this rock. He had even looked up in hope that maybe a second ship was coming to aid when he saw the rocket arc toward the dropship.

Sal grit his teeth hard enough his jaw ached from the pressure. But compared to the cream he was holding back it was nothing.

Sal looked back at the rest of the marines.
"Double time to Quinn!" At this point, any standing battle was a death sentence. Quinn had suggested they seek out the enemy base. That was there best option. Not just for medical supplies to help Morse, but for the simple fact of that they would have the means to get off this rock.

But god damnit if they weren't humped nine ways to Sunday.

Mark's heart sank as he heard the rocket reach for the sky on a plume of fire. It wasn't the high, fast burn of an RPG the dropship might evade or survive. It was the slow, heavy burn of a USCM issue AA missile. He knew their ride was doomed even before the explosion left a tortured twist of metal to crash down planetside. The motion tracker holstered on his thigh started to click. He didn't need to look to know what it was saying.

"They're still coming!" Mark exclaimed as he loaded up the targeting system for the Sentry Gun before him. "Sal, get that last turret up behind cover, I can still get them running before they get here!"

<Tag - Sal>

"Slag me...." Sal growled as he safetied his rifle and slide it around back on the strap. He siezed the turret by the 'easy' lift handles and growled as he free lifted it from the ground to a short cluster of rocks.
<Roll Strength>
The way Sal lined it up, the turret would have a full view over the rocks, but anyone shooting would have to nail the turret right on the head to take out the gun. Entrenched firepower, oorah.

He checked to make sure any of the visible screens didn't have any obvious warnings or errors displayed, before giviing a thumbs up and getting ready to continue on with the group.
<roll Perception>

Samantha had once again had a brief moment of relief upon seeing and hearing the approaching Dropship transformed into despair and rage upon watching it get shot down.

Shaking her head; her Caribbean-esque accent kicked in stronger than usual as she helped Giosso and Sal set up the sentry guns; "Get these damn 'tings workin' quick mon!"; she snapped at Mark as she finished hauling the second Gun into place and quickly swiveled her Pulse Rifle off her shoulder and into her hands; safety-off and ready to rock as she scanned the area for approaching enemies.

Taking a deep breath to calm down a bit; she said in a softer, less accented voice; "Apologies Mark; it's just been a long day that doesn't look to be getting much better any time soon." Glancing over at Roberts as Quinn's orders came in; she called out over the platoon wide channel; "Roger that Quinn. Sarge; we've got 2 sentry guns in place and Giosso's getting them on-line now. Fall back with 3rd thru us to 2nd's position and then we'll follow. Hall, out"

Looking over at Roberts she said; "Anything other than Dirk and his boys register on your Smartgun; let 'em have it on full auto; long sweeps. We need to keep the bastards' heads down while we pull back." Looking over at Sal; she said; "Booth; aim for anybody that looks important or is out in front." Samantha then started aiming herself; and to no-one in particular, she started quietly saying; "C'mon, c'mon, c'mon, c'mon"; over and over again....

<Tag Everyone>
<Tag 1st Squad>