"We've got hostile aliens on the ship.
"Morrison, second squad will keep this corridor clear. Watch the floor grilles, if you see any movement assume it's hostile.
Hearing "his" boot curse and scramble Morrison grabbed him, turned him around, taking a quick peek at his nametag.
"Vaughan! Get the fuck back in formation! You're on the job now! Time to earn your pay- if it was serious, they would've told us. Copy!?" he barked, tension getting the better of him.
"Aliens!? What the hell..."
Morrison thought. Alien lifeforms did exist, sure enough- but most of them where microbes. Hostile alien lifeforms made his skin crawl. The tought was mindboggling. He shaked it out of his head and once again turned to his junior marines.
"Ok, FNG's you heard the lady! We're going to make sure none of these" he thumbed towards the slowly sinking mass of alien deadmeat behind him, "creepy little bastards get past us."
He then proceeded to manhandle his boots until all the directions where covered, and they where standing with their rifles at the ready-position. He kept himself in the middle, overlooking the fresh guys, keeping close enough to help if the crap would hit the fan.
"Let's just hope they can perform."
"Stay alert! Stay in contact! If you see anything, shoot, then call me. Don't get into a kneeling position- if the LT is right, and they are infact using the crawlspace- you'll just have your CBM closer to the hostile. Questions?"
Morrison was getting calmer now, seeing that he had done all he could.
OOC: CMB: "Center of Body Mass" or, if you will, the torso- where most of your weight is, and where Colonial Marines are trained to aim. FNG: "Fucking New Guy/s": Yet another
derogatory term for fresh soldiers/marines. Started sometime during the vietnam conflict, I beleive.