Turn 1: Bushwacked

[Obi]

From the depths of his slumber Obi stirred slightly. Ambient background noise slowly rose in volume. A audible alarm, voices, motion around him. At first he thought it was a dream, however he became more self aware with each passing second. His eyes slowly opened and automatically nearly shut due to the ship's lights. Taking in a deep breath Obi opened his eyes again and the deck head swam into focus. He turned his head slowly from side to side as all feeling came back into his limbs. Tensing his muscles and with great care he made a fist with both hands and relaxed. Well here is too waking up successfully. Obi thought as he raised himself out of his cryotube and stood up stretched. While not it did not happen often, there were occasions where the wake up procedure could be a little harsh or even fatal.

Obi nodded to his fellow marines as he made his way over to his locker. There would be nice time to shower given the alarm, so Obi wiped his face and underarms with a moist cloth prior to dressing. Pulling on his armour Obi connected his helmet to his webbing. Next he holstered his pistol and sheathed his fighting knife, before picking up and running through a quick function test on his M-41. The weapon gave him a reassurance as all the working parts operated smoothly and correctly. Satisfied he slung his weapon and moved over to the magazine area and drew ammunition for his sidearm, rifle and grenades. Securing all the munitions in his webbing, there was no need to go to load until they had orders, Obi gave a brief smile to the marines moving around him, while not being rude he was still going through his post cryo routine, gathering his thoughts and pondered what had possibly dragged them out of cryo.

[Whisky]

Eyeball walked up as Morse finished responding in standard Morse form.

”Drill, vessel inspection, boarders, nuclear fired shit storm, who the fuck knows.” Morse said specifically to give Colson the accurate impression that he had absolutely no idea what was going on.

" oh god i really hope this is not a inspection thats not funny, not funny at all

Colson rolled his eyes at the thought. Hard and up from cryo wasn't fun. His stomach grumbled loudly at him. In response he gestured at the other two marines in his squad in a manner that said "Whatever, call me when you know what's happening." and turned off to the mess to grab what he could before it was too late to eat anything.

<Tag Eyeball & Morse

[taimdala]

The research installation was dark and dank, not at all brightly lit as she remembered it. Oksana was late and she shrugged into her lab coat as she hustled down the corridor, wondering if the power outage had contributed to her alarm failing to go off in time … but now it was blaring loud enough to be heard from her quarters. She shivered as she retraced her steps, anxious to keep the noise from waking Dmitri. He needed his sleep, she knew, and without it he wouldn't heal. Besides, loud noise was to be avoided at all costs. There was no telling what it would attract. The base has lost several people already to the things that lurked in the dark, things with claws and teeth that ripped flesh and bone to bloody shreds. The alarm kept wailing as she ran for their quarters, praying she wasn't too late to save Dmitri from—

Gasping, Oksana jerked awake in her cryopod, shaking uncontrollably from head to toe yet unable to move. Several long seconds passed as her brain caught up with the rest of her. Memory returned as the dream fell away and she regained the ability to act. The canopy on her pod was already rising when she gingerly sat up. Nausea followed but she clamped her jaws shut on it. Damned if she'd spew it in front of the Marines. Her stubborn pride refused to give in to her stomach. Speaking of stubborn pride …Dmitri was stirring in the pod next to hers. Knowing he'd need assistance, Oksana hauled out and put her feet on the cold deck—

—Only to get her hands slapped away by Dmitri as he refused her help.

"Fine!" she snarled. She had hoped Dmitri would have softened his stance, but no. All around her were Marines rudely awakened by the noise and though she doubted they'd even notice the contribution of a screaming match with Dmitri, Oksana wasn't in the mood for it. Dmitri could get his own ass out of his pod. She would take care of herself first.

So she was dressed before he was and standing ready to wheel him into the mess hall where the others were already gathering. Of course Dmitri took it as a negative judgment of his disability and he stared ahead in stony silence. It was the silence that was the hardest to bear. Oksana preferred a knock-down drag out fight to the cold shoulder but there was no way to argue with someone who refused to respond. She wheeled him into the mess hall and parked him at the first open spot that could take his chair and got them both settled with food. She'd managed to piece together what was going on from what she'd seen and overheard as everyone woke and hustled, but held off speculating until Quinn delivered the official news. As a civilian on a ship full of Marines, there really wasn't much she could contribute to the situation. At least, not until she knew what was going on. Judging from the conversations of those around her, no one knew what was going on either.

<TAG everyone>

[Quicksilver]

An off-road vehicle with marine insignia speed along a dusty Martian highway, radio blaring out country tunes. As it got closer, the marines in side could be seen – a scrawny private was driving, his slightly over regulation weight mate was sitting in the passenger’s seat, snacking on a pastry. Suddenly there was a thump. The driver slammed on the brakes, skidding the jeep to a stop. The two got out and walked forward, the camera panning around them to reveal the alien they’d just struck with the vehicle.

“What the hell’s that?” the scrawny one asked, in an accent that seemed like a comical exaggeration of Morse’s own.

“That, there is a xenomorph.” The larger replied. The two looked at it for a second before a sound drew their attention. They were clearly frightened by what they saw. The pastry dropped out of the larger one’s hands. In front of them, a queen crested over a dramatically placed hill, her shadow passing over the poor marines. The radio in the jeep blared a warning tone before the scene cut out. The alarm, however didn’t.

Mark could still hear the alarm when his eyes opened. He blinked the dream away. It was his own particular dream peculiarity, and not one restricted to cryo dreams. Somehow, no matter what they were about, Mark himself was never in them. His dreams were like movies, there was always a screen between him and whatever was going on. The disassociation was useful. No matter how frightening (or comical) the dreams got, there was always a degree of separation. He was never actually there.

Mark stumbled out the cryo tube and, like most of his fellow marines immediately shuffled in the direction of his locker, his eyes screwed shut against the light. He felt the edge, popped it open and pushed his dark ‘post-cryo’ sunglasses over his eyes. A few minutes and a couple of pills later he too was on his way to the mess hall for something to eat.

Equipped with packets of dehydrated coffee, dehydrated milk, dehydrated spreads and rehydrated bisects, the comm tech joined the rest of the platoon at the chow table. While he ate, he held his e-reader in his left hand, punching his way through a relatively low-grade logic game in an attempt to wake his brain back up. Somehow it always seemed to lag behind the rest of him on wake up, and he’d found if he didn't do something to push it, it might not bother showing up till halfway through a mission.

[Quinn]

Quinn, now dressed in his camouflage uniform, or "cammies" by the slang of the Corps, climbed up the series of ladders and through a tube to the vessel's bridge.

They were still aboard the Snakefighter, although scuttlebutt said that they were to be going back to the Conestoga-class Cruiser. Sixtus didn't mind this all that much, as that would give him access to the orbital assets that a Conestoga could bring to bear, even if it meant dealing with Navy pukes. He doubted he was in as much good graces with the Corps to be given the dual command of Navy and Marines as well.

He opened the door to the "bridge", although it was little more than an enlarged cockpit. Pope was "flying" as it were as the android was suited well to keeping them on course in deep space. The cockpit was arranged in the same "off center" arrangement that the UD-4L dropship had.

And now they were on anti-piracy and anti-smuggling patrol. The patrol would take years, although with the advantage of cryosleep, it would only seem like weeks.

"Talk to me Goose." Quinn quipped, quoting an ancient movie.

[Morse]

Working his way over to the mess hall in full gear, Morse had a small amount of trouble navigating the process of getting food while also holding his Smartgun. He could hold the weapon one handed, but that still left him needing to do everything one handed. And because of that he was forced to setting the tray down and sliding it along, as he grabbed as much as he could.

Morse was not incredibly large. He had well toned muscle capacity, but his size was not overly affected by it. He tended to keep himself just enough in shape to hold everything he needed to hold, and that was all.

He had a nice tray full of synthetic potatoes, beef, corn, beans, and a few pieces of bread. Most of it was likely made by a machine that was on board the vessel with them. Still Morse rarely had any complaints. He liked his food bland anyway, and that was exactly how the machines made it, though he would likely be the only one who’d actually call it ‘food’.

Morse found a place at the table, and disconnected his M56 Smartgun, setting it down beneath him, and placing a foot on it. He didn’t know if they would be jerked out of subspace anytime soon, so in case of a gravity flux, he didn’t want it sliding around.

He looked over and saw the civilian Doctor with them, Oksana. He didn’t realize they were still with them, but at times he had a hazy memory coming out of hypersleep. He noted the mans inability to walk, which was leaving him in low spirits.

The constant visual of the cripple was not exactly a boost for morale, and Morse hoped they’d be ditching him as soon as possible. It wasn’t good for them to have reminders all the time of the worst parts about the job.

Morse looked over at Colson. ”Aint they got nothin’ to give ya fer front chomp?” Morse asked wondering if there was anything the med bay had that could work along the line of dentures. He had never had to consider it so he personally wasn’t sure what would go into that. ”Like fake tooths… or pieces a gum?” He questioned with a shrug.

< Tag Colson

[taimdala]

Oksana pushed the food around on her plate. It wasn't that she didn't like it--truth be told, it wasn't that much different from the research facility she'd just left routinely served. Her stomach was still a little unsettled from cryo. She made herself eat anyway. She didn't know when she'd have the opportunity to eat again and it made sense to fuel up against whatever happened next.

As for that ... she looked right and saw that Dmitri was holding his own and didn't need her for anything. Looking left, she was surprised to find Sam sitting beside her. She was grateful for it. Not one for socializing in the normal course of events, Oksana was nevertheless glad she had another woman to talk to aboard. She leaned in and said so that only Sam could hear:

"It's good to see you, Sam. I hope cryo was kinder to you than me. Are you all right?" Oksana asked sincerely.

<TAG: Sam>

[MarcusOTerra]

As he entered the mess, Sal heard Morse giving Colson a hard time over not having gotten his false teeth in yet. The Ship's infirmary should have already done molds for some place holders while they got proper false teeth made up for implants.

Course, the ship doc probably expected the marines to be under for another week or two, so it hadn't been the most urgent of tasks.

"Maybe the docs mixed up his order with the ship dog's?" He made a weak jab at the conversation. "Wouldn't it suck to get a Schnauzer's chompers?" He continued, and picked up a packed of rehydrated electrolytes, a libelous label calling it 'juice' on the pack.

[Corporal Hicks]

Roberts set down his smartgun once he entered the mess hall. He then grabbed a tray and loaded it up with some synthetic food. He sat down between Sam Hall and Mark Giosso, who were now his squad-mates. He figured he'd better get to know them while he could. He secretly feared making human connections after losing so many friends before, but he wouldn't allow himself to be isolated by that fear.

Roberts offered a handshake to the skinny man on his left, "Eric Roberts. It's Giosso, right?"

<Tag Giosso>

[maxvale76]

Samantha had belatedly realized that an alarm was in progress and everyone had been ordered to 'gear up'; so with a grumble she quickly donned her armor; belted on her sidearm and retrieved her Pulse Rifle from the rack; making sure it was in fine working order as she made her way to the Galley with everyone else.

Seeing Oksana and poor Dmitri; she got her tray of food and sat down next to the Doctor and her husband; happy to see that her squad had followed her. She smiled at Mark and Eric; happy to see Eric introduce himself to Giosso and then turned towards the good Doctor as she spoke to her.

"It's good to see you as well; I slept like a baby in cryo. Apparently I'm one of the lucky few that pretty much handle cryo with no issues.....I think you Scientist types officially call us 'Freaks'. Am I pronouncing that correctly?"; she replied back with a grin.

<Tag Giosso, Roberts & Oksana>

[taimdala]

"Actually, I think the correct pronunciation is 'fortunate'," Oksana said with a smile. "Truly, you are, when you can sleep without nightmares. Do you know what is going on?"

Oksana gestured at the general mess hall with her fork and ignored the soft snort from Dmitri.

<TAG: Sam>

[Pale Rider]

"Talk to me Goose." Quinn quipped, quoting an ancient movie.

Pope looked up over his shoulder as he took over the controls from the automatic pilot, "Roger, I got them. 900 knots closure. Sir, the enemy is closing in fast and they have locked guns onto our engines. They will be within firing range in T-minus 60 seconds. I am instituting evasive actions now."

<Action>

[Quicksilver]

Mark smiled and put down the e-reader to free up his hand to take Roberts’. “Yeah.” He gave his fellow marine’s hand a single shake before letting go and pushing the sunglasses back up to completely cover his eyes. “I see the cryo didn’t dull your appetite much.” He commented with a joking tone.

A half second later he felt his head swim. It was a particular type of swimming, caused by the rapid push and pull of the ship on him as the evasive maneuvers began. Just as every USN ship had artificial gravity, each one had a battery of generators designed to keep you, your coffee (and everything else) from getting squished against the walls when the spacecraft accelerated or turned at the equivalent of dozens of Gs. Of course, change accelerations to often (say, because your jinking to avoid gunfire) and the generators have hard time keeping up. The result, that swimming feeling of gravity being different on your head than it is on you feet.

It took Mark a minute to recognize the feeling, but when he did, he swore. “Anyone else feel that?” Mark asked, looking for confirmation he wasn't just making it up, or having a new reaction to cryo & biscuits. “Ether Pope forgot how to fly, or we're just about out of time for breakfast.”

<Tag 1st squad, Oksana>

[MarcusOTerra]

Sal was sitting on a bench when the G's shifted everyone to the side. He slide, slightly, down the bench and tried to remain flippant as his hand squeezed juice into his face. He let out a low, agitated, groan and wiped his face before. "Yeah, We felt that." Sal grumbles.

"Doesn't feel like whoever we found is even TRYING to play nice." Sal picked up his rifle and slung it over his shoulder. He tried to recall what kind of weapons the Snakefighter brought to the space game.

He tossed the 'juice' bag into a bin and was on his way out the mess door, then paused. "Shit. Think we might need to go EVA for this crap,?" He asked those in the mess.

<Tag people in the mess>

[taimdala]

Oksana had her coffee halfway to her lips when the flux hit her head, making her sway in her chair. Some of the stinging hot coffee sloshed on her hand and she managed to put it down before she spilled more. She braced herself and quickly looked at Dmitri, saw he was doing the same, and she closed her eyes to ride the queasiness out.

“Anyone else feel that?” Mark asked, looking for confirmation he wasn't just making it up, or having a new reaction to cryo & biscuits. “Ether Pope forgot how to fly, or we're just about out of time for breakfast.”

"Copy that," Oksana said to Giosso. She swallowed hard as her stomach lurched. She turned to Sam and asked, "Is there a place my husband and I can strap in securely and stay out of the way?"

<Tag: Giosso, Sam