Turn 3 Remember the Alamo

The fourth mission
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Pale Rider
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Turn 3 Remember the Alamo

Post by Pale Rider » Sat Jan 04, 2014 5:27 pm

Planet: Gliese 876b
Location: Ekylprillion, Lunar Satellite
Date: October 1st, 2080
Mission Time: 0930

The Eights quickly snapped up the fleeing human and fell back into the Firebase, their use of modern weapons effectively held the enemy at bay by destroying large swathes of them, but unfortunately this only barely allowed them to fall into the base and slam shut the doors.
In seconds the base was surrounded by close to two hundred xenomorphs, their claws striking at the surface of the prefab barricades filling the air with a sound not too dissimilar to nails on a chalk board. Quinn, examined the Xenos with a pair of macro-binoculars and realized that his initial assumption was correct! These were not the run of the mill Xenos that they had encountered previously. An assortment of peculiarities: vaguely feline characteristics, crocodilian, bovine, a few had horns coming out of their craniums, some had webbed appendages, and the most bizarre had no legs at all but reared up like snakes. But there was one thing he knew for a fact if they breeched the barricade in any way shape or form they were all doomed.

Looking out over the field he noticed that one in particular stood back, out of range of all their weapons except for perhaps the Snakefighter, from this distance it appeared huge and it stuck within the outer edges of the Rainforest. Using a tree as a reference he estimated the creature stood a good 7 meters tall (27 feet) and from tip of it’s nose to the end of it’s tail it was approximately 16 meters long (52 feet). It’s hide was covered in a grainy substance and it’s jaws were slightly elongated. It swayed side to side, and if it had eyes they would probably be closed.

The Xenos withdrew and formed a skirmish line around the base, their numbers were not clumped together so as to not provide a single large target. A high pitch scream not to unlike a steam whistle sounded across the field and the first wave began it’s assault.
<ACTIONS>
Equipment:
6 M-94 Flares, Knife, Hand Welder, Compass, Nylon, Rope, M4A3 PistolM-3 Armor (Ghillie Suit), Entrenching/ Utility Tool, 3 M1000 Flares, 8 M-40 Grenades,Binoculars (High Quality), Short Range Comm, M42A Scope Rifle, and Tomahawk

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Morse
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Re: Turn 3 Remember the Alamo

Post by Morse » Sun Jan 05, 2014 12:29 am

The suppressing fire was normal. It was nothing to Morse. He had not a care in the world when he fired his weapon. Whether it was a combat zone or a target range, he never hesitated or thought about it. He knew when to shoot, and he knew when to hold. He knew there were a lot of targets out there though, but he had assumed it was more of an animal stampede of something indigenous.

But when he saw the eyeless head. The skin that looked almost like inner ship workings. Claws, tails, and horrific silver teeth, alll through the ocular piece, he was filled with fear. His eyes shot wide.

”OH NO!” Morse yelled. ”FUUUUUUUCK! ITS EM!!!! He screamed.

From his M56 Smartgun he let out a long spray, his targeting device locking onto a new target every time he turned the weapon even a centimeter.

”BRAAAAAAHHH! RUUUUUN! He yelled to everyone, not waiting a moment to do so himself. He could not afford to back peddle. This was far too serious. Granted this was the situation he preferred, being on an open field, but he had never seen this many Xenomorphs like that, certainly not that many species.

As he ran he held his weapon around the back. The targeting system was still picking up targets, and he fired. His vision was shaky due to seeing what was in front with his left eye, and what was behind with the other. But he didn’t care.

DiDiDiDDiDDiDDiDDiDDiDDiDDiDDiDDiDDiDDiDDiDi

His weapon roared the scream that it did every time he pulled the trigger. He hoped someone would be smart enough to fire a grenade, but it didn’t matter, they needed to leave.

But they made it back. Morse could not believe they made it back. But they made it back.

Now came a new challenge, one Morse had never encountered, and neither had the others. But if they were ever prepared to handle it, this was the moment.

”Whiskey! Eyeball! Get at those wall holes!” Morse ordered. Though they were in an enclosed environment, they had the ability to open up hatches to fire on the enemy. He did not want them too far, but they needed to do something. ”Grenades, bullets, smoke, whatever the fuck’ya got. Put it on em!” Morse finished.

He reloaded his smartgun on the go and made it to one of the wall hatches himself. He tapped on his com as he ran however. ”Quinn! We should bail! Fuckin’ bugs’r everywhere! N’there big!” Morse said commenting on the fact that he’d never seen this sorts before.

Morse arrived at one of the firing positions, which was still safely behind a small piece of wall that the bugs could not reach.

”FUCK OFF MY WALL!” Morse yelled firing relentlessly at anything that came within his line of sight.

<Tag All
< Roll Fully Auto Smartgun
-SGT Allen Morse - Medic
-3rd Bn, 2nd Reg, 1st Co, 8th Plt
- DEVIL DAWG
- M41A Pulse Rifle - Med Kit

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Re: Turn 3 Remember the Alamo

Post by Quinn » Sun Jan 05, 2014 12:28 pm

Quinn's eyes went wide with horror as his PTSD kicked into overdrive. "FUCK!!!" he yelped, his fingers dancing over the keyboard, the miniguns on the front roaring death into the xeno horde. "Pope, get us the fuck outta here!"

The APC shuddered as something hit it, the miniguns tracking and hitting a target in midair. The vehicle kept moving straight back, over a series of trenches, knocking over a sentry turret and slamming into the wall of the habitat. The engine died with a stuttering cough.

"Pope, what the fu..." Quinn barked as he opened the driver's compartment. The cab was a mess, with the crysteel pane melted through along with the control panel and the android that was driving. The target the miniguns hit must've burst in midair, showering the front of the vehicle with acidic blood. Swearing profusely, Quinn retrieved his "go-bag". The bag was heavy, but contained everything he felt that he'd need. He grabbed the door of the vehicle, thought for a moment, then grabbed a large weapon off the ceiling rack, slinging it across his shoulder. Drawing his sidearm, he opened the vehicle and hauled ass outside.

As his boots hit the mud, he saw creatures crawling, walking, jumping and even slithering up the hill towards the sealed hab. The platoon was holding them off and pulling back as orderly as they could. The door was on the other side of the hab, and the Lieutenant was effectively cut off. There was a small window of opportunity, and Quinn ran for it. Moving as fast as he could, he would barely make it to the door.

One-hundred yards. He saw Recon go through, followed by First Squad, then Second Squad. Seventy-five yards. They were laying down fire through the door. He heard Morse's screaming over the shooting. Fifty yards. Quinn chanced a look behind him, seeing a movement snaking towards him through the mud. He opened fire on it with his M4A4 sidearm, the forty-five caliber rounds banging off towards the creature. Magazine dry, no time to check for effect or reload. Twenty-five yards. He saw a Marine standing at the door, screaming at him to move it. Something was behind Quinn, he could feel it. Lungs burning from the heavy air, he gave his last bit of energy and bolted for the door. It slammed shut behind him. He helped move the bar into place in time to feel the door shudder with a BOOM.

"Shit, that was close." he thought aloud. "Marines, SOUND OFF!" he barked, getting the count of the men and women he had left under his command. "On the ready line Marines, kill the sons of bitches!"

Unrolling the go-bag and letting the green cylinder fall to the floor next to him, he suited action to words as he got up with a flamer in his hands. Before he even became an NCO, he habitually carried the M240 Flamer as a standard weapon. And he was good with it.

Getting to a shutter and seeing something snap out of mouth in front of his face, he poured liquid fire through the opening. The roar of the flame combined with the horrible keening shriek was a unique sound to be heard as the Marine Lieutenant fought the monsters of his darkest nightmares.
Current Gear
M41A Mk. 2 Pulse Rifle, suppressed and advanced sight
M4A4 .45 ACP caliber Sidearm, Suppressed
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Whisky
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Re: Turn 3 Remember the Alamo

Post by Whisky » Sun Jan 05, 2014 1:46 pm

What Colson saw in front of him was the stuff of nightmares, and when Morse gave the order to retreat he didn't hesitate, he turned and sprinted, getting to the door to provide cover to his squad mates.

"MOVE IT!" He yelled at the people outside. As the last one entered he slammed the doors shut and slammed the bolts into place.
”Whiskey! Eyeball! Get at those wall holes!” Morse ordered. Though they were in an enclosed environment, they had the ability to open up hatches to fire on the enemy. He did not want them too far, but they needed to do something. ”Grenades, bullets, smoke, whatever the fuck’ya got. Put it on em!” Morse finished.
What was outside was bad, what made it worse was the reaction it got out of Morse. It added that raw edge. Following orders he rushed to the nearest fire hole and started shooting.

< M41A Fire Full Auto
Pvt. Thomas Colson
2nd Squad - Medic

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Re: Turn 3 Remember the Alamo

Post by Dirk Pitt » Sun Jan 05, 2014 7:49 pm

The weapons roared as Dirk watched, with relief, the W.Y. woman frantically run passed the line of Marines falling back towards base. He hadn't been sure if she would and would have felt guilty if she hadn't. That was a victory, he mused as he turned towards the base.
Morse wrote: ”OH NO!” Morse yelled. ”FUUUUUUUCK! ITS EM!!!! He screamed.

From his M56 Smartgun he let out a long spray, his targeting device locking onto a new target every time he turned the weapon even a centimeter.

”BRAAAAAAHHH! RUUUUUN! He yelled to everyone, not waiting a moment to do so himself. He could not afford to back peddle. This was far too serious. Granted this was the situation he preferred, being on an open field, but he had never seen this many Xenomorphs like that, certainly not that many species.
Dirk looked back towards the clearing, his eyes open wide with shock and recognition. It was the things again. "Damn" He managed to whisper as the things ran towards the men.

"Fall back! Fall back! Get in the damn base now! Move! Move! Move!" he shouted to the Marines, his voice a mixture of terror and command as he ran to the thick door that would be their only possibility of safety.
<Tag Second squad>

Raising his M-41A to his shoulder Dirk let loose a steady stream of fire on the run. The things burst into acidic clouds as his AP rounds slammed into them, sending what was left flailing wildly as they screamed the high pitch scream that would haunt his nightmares for the rest of his life.

Reaching the firebase Dirk slammed his back against the wall by the door hard as he covered the Marines entering as best he could. Firing until the counter ran down to zero he let the magazine fall to the ground and slammed another one in it's place. The process took no more than a few moments, but it seemed like much longer. That's when he noticed, they were different. The same features but different creatures. What the hell was going on?

As the last Marine followed the civi through the door Dirk dove through as it closed tight, keeping the nightmares out, for now. He lay there on his back for a few moments as he caught his breath and steadied his nerves. Standing up on shaky legs he heard the sounds of the things against the walls. They wanted in, and he couldn't think of a time that the things couldn't get passed whatever was put in their way.
Quinn wrote:
"Shit, that was close." he thought aloud. "Marines, SOUND OFF!" he barked, getting the count of the men and women he had left under his command. "On the ready line Marines, kill the sons of bitches!"
"This is Pitt" He managed at last. "Everyone accounted for plus one civi. I'll send her your way LT."
<Tag Quinn>

Shaking the head he replaced the fear of those things with anger. IF they wanted a fight, they came to the right place. Defensive positions people. Lets give our new guests a warm receptions. Be smart, and remember this, no one dies today. That's an order." He said, remembering the old saying that Marines were not allowed to die without orders.
<Tag everyone>

"Ma'am, you'll need to come with me. Lt. Quinn will need to ask you some questions." Dirk said to the woman.
<Tag WY woman>
Cpl Dirk Pitt
First squad leader

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M1911 Colt .45 caliber Sidearm
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Re: Turn 3 Remember the Alamo

Post by Duncan » Sun Jan 05, 2014 8:00 pm

"It's Duncan, I'm good," the marine said, panting heavily. Duncan assessed the situation. His rifle would still be useful during a lull in waves, but to stop the xenos from storming the base, he needed something different. He rested the sniper rifle on its bipod near him and drew his SPAS-18.

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Re: Turn 3 Remember the Alamo

Post by maxvale76 » Sun Jan 05, 2014 9:58 pm

Samantha's eyes widened at the sight of the horde of various versions of Xenomorphs rushing towards them; and upon seeing the woman race past them and Morse's yell to run; she raised her Pulse Rifle to her shoulder and cut loose a long burst followed by a quick dash of 50 yards or so and then repeated this until she was back inside the fort.

Ejecting her clip; she slammed in a new one and immediately moved to get a 'topside' position on the wall. As she did so; she called out over the squad-channel; "Mark; stay where you are and direct those sentry guns until ordered otherwise.....Obi; see if you can't find a crate of M40 grenades....QUICK!"; she ordered. Upon reaching the top of the wall; she moved to a position where she could use the grenade launcher and waited until the horde had charged into range; aiming at as large a mass of them as she could find....

<Tag First Squad>

<Aim for 5 actions; fire Grenade>
CPL Samantha "Sam" Hall

M41A Pulse Rifle

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eyeball
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Re: Turn 3 Remember the Alamo

Post by eyeball » Mon Jan 06, 2014 1:48 am

”BRAAAAAAHHH! RUUUUUN!
eyeball new a good order when he heard one and this was one of the best, clear and precise, possibly a little panicked but hey you can't have everything.
"right with you mate" eyeball replied as he raced along with Morse and Whisky.
they made it back to the base camp, spinning round to pour cover fire behind the last man in and then slamming the gate.
”Whiskey! Eyeball! Get at those wall holes! Grenades, bullets, smoke, whatever the fuck’ya got. Put it on em!”
Morse sounded real edgy not his usual self, Eyeball responded instantly, he looked down at his motion tracker and saw a solid wall of blips, "contacts all around"he reported feeling a little stupid, every one probably knew that "numbers maxed out, over 150" Eyeball opened a wall port let a blast off through it and closed it again, it was a wall of targets, he couldn't miss, the creature exploded spraying its inner fluids all around. "are these wall resistant?" Eyeball looked at Morse and Whiskey as he voiced his query.
then suddenly the xenos pulled back, they formed a skirmish line, taking cover dodging, spreading out to as not present easy targets.
"Is that normal?" Eyeball asked, and almost as soon as he did a wave started rushing the walls. he pulled up his pulse rifle again and started shooting, 6 round bursts, new target six more, new target, everyone was shooting the smartguns were screaming rounds out, then flammers opened up as they got closer.
"Morse, this makes no sense" Eyeball sent to his squad leader, "they showed inteligence and tactics by pulling back and now this? just a head long rush?"
pulling up his motion scanner eyeball span round looking to see if there was unspotted movement away from this obvious assault.

<tag Morse, Whisky>
<roll firing>
<roll motion tracker>

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Re: Turn 3 Remember the Alamo

Post by Morse » Mon Jan 06, 2014 8:06 am

A stream of rounds. An explosion of acid. A stream of round. An explosion of acid.

This was what fighting these things always amounted to. And they were adding in the human component to it now, which made it feel even more where it typically was. Varying degree of panic, and the overwhelming thought that the situation may be a bit hopeless.

Morse could think of only two times they had come across this species and not fled in a fury. Only those two times could be considered a “Victory”. But those times involved ones that were not as large. The first encounter on that list involved less then ten, and the second only two.

This was the most he’d ever seen in one place. But on the “Elevator to Hell” there could have easily been as many, it was just dark and hard to see them.

His squad had taken the order without any argument or hesitation. This was the first time either of them were really in a serious engagement with these sorts of creatures, and it was a very dangerous one at that. With Xenomorphs running all around, and the constant thought that there may just be too many, it was shaping up to be the perfect crushing defeat.

Hearing Eyeball call out, Morse took a step back and yelled as well. ”Anythin’ about these goddamn crickets from hell seem normal t’you!?” He responded.

Morse was the marine equivalent to an expert on the creatures, and the only real thing he knew was that you had to hit them fast and you almost always ended up running.

He continued to fire rounds relentlessly through his tiny opening at distance. His hyper accurate and lethal weapon was devastating, but there were just a massive number at that moment.

”Aint no sense to these fuckers! Just kill enough and hope thems stop!” Morse yelled over the roar of his weapon.

< Tag Eyeball
-SGT Allen Morse - Medic
-3rd Bn, 2nd Reg, 1st Co, 8th Plt
- DEVIL DAWG
- M41A Pulse Rifle - Med Kit

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Re: Turn 3 Remember the Alamo

Post by Whisky » Mon Jan 06, 2014 6:32 pm

Within moments his mag ran dry, dropping down he reloaded. As he did he heard Eyeball's questions. "Be damned if I know squat." He replied. The other question had him worried, he had not seen it first hand but had been briefed on the acid blood. All he knew right now was to trust in his training and superiors.

The initial surge of adrenaline now under control he took a breath and found his balance. Time to ride the storm. Colson came back up to the fire point and started taking more controlled bursts, picking his targets.

<Reload M41A
<Fire two bursts
Pvt. Thomas Colson
2nd Squad - Medic

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Re: Turn 3 Remember the Alamo

Post by eyeball » Tue Jan 07, 2014 12:01 pm

"ok shutting up and shooting" replied Eyeball after both squad mates had answered with what amounted to "NFI"
Eyeball let rip with more burst of fire but continued to check his motion tracker every now and then.
What harm could it do, better this way than get caught by surprise.

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Re: Turn 3 Remember the Alamo

Post by Pale Rider » Tue Jan 07, 2014 3:25 pm

Xenos were dropping like flies when the assault suddenly stops as it started. The smaller xenos disappear into the Temperate Rain Forest. The large Xenomorph stands rocking slightly from side to side. It's lips peeled back in a snarl, before it turns and vanishes into the forest.
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Re: Turn 3 Remember the Alamo

Post by Morse » Tue Jan 07, 2014 7:00 pm

The firing never stopped. Not as the xenomorph line seemed to thin. Not as they seemed to run away. The firing just continued as they tried to completely thin out the line that advanced upon them.

But as Morse ran out of targets there were within his line of sight, he stepped back. ”What the fuck they doin’.” He muttered to himself. He had never really seen a tactic such as that done by them, or by any combatant that had them completely on the run.

He did not really ask that out loud. Instead he opted for something that was more of a declaration to his squad. ”Reload’n stay on line.” Morse yelled out. ”Em’s’s prolly gonna come runnin’ hard here any second.”

He actually had no idea at all of that was what they would be doing, but Morse did not like trying to rationalize or figure those things out. They were so far removed from humans and the way any other animal operated that it was basically impossible to guess what they would do or were trying to do. The best option was just to be as prepared as possible and see how many bullets it would take before they stopped running at you.

Morse himself began to reload the large smartgun, moving the drum he had onto his leg, replacing it with one of the others he had strapped there. It had only twenty one rounds remaining, but he did not like to waste what he didn’t have to in terms of ordinance when he really needed it.

<Tag Anyone
<Roll Awareness
-SGT Allen Morse - Medic
-3rd Bn, 2nd Reg, 1st Co, 8th Plt
- DEVIL DAWG
- M41A Pulse Rifle - Med Kit

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Re: Turn 3 Remember the Alamo

Post by Quicksilver » Tue Jan 07, 2014 10:01 pm

Mark had only encountered these creatures maybe twice before, and each time they had been devastating and suicidal. Given that, he wasn’t sure why the xenos had called off the all-out assault on their little firebase, but he was thankful for it none the less. It had been a devastatingly intense minute and not something Mark would seek out to experience a second time.

“Sir, Ma’am.” Mark called out over the radio, directing them at Quinn and Sam respectively. “Permission to reload and re-barrel the auto turrets?”

During the final push, Mark had accessed the defense network and removed both the cool down cycle and the confirmation requirement on the autoturret grid. As a result they’d turned from precision firing to bullet hoses firing rounds as literally as quickly as turrets survos could point the weapon in the right direction. As a result half a dozen of them were giving him heat-stress warnings despite the light cooling rain, and all of them were reading ammunition out.

<Security Systems>
Pvt. Mark Giosso
3rd Bn, 2nd Reg, 1st Co, 8th Plt
Security Systems Master
Communications / Computer and Motion Tracker Operation Expert
Surveillance Equipment Operation Professional

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Re: Turn 3 Remember the Alamo

Post by Dirk Pitt » Wed Jan 08, 2014 5:44 am

As he lead the WY woman by the arm towards Quinn Dirk listened to the chatter on the comm. It was a massive attack by the Xenos. One that had to be repelled now, before they could question their newest guest. Stopping in lid stride he turned the woman towards him.

"I want you to run to the command hut. It's the short green building over there." He said pointing towards Quinn's office. "Lock the door and wait for one of us to get you. If we get over run I want you to use the transmitter on the back wall. Say these words. Broken arrow. Need evac on my position. Don't do it unless you see those things in the firebase. Our ship will get you out of here. Now go"
<Tag WY Woman>

Without another word Dirk charged back to the wall and joined the defenders. Raising his M41A he let loose a barrage of fire at the oncoming hoard. Emptying one clip he quickly slammed another one in it's place. Looking over at Morse, who was standing next to him, he grinned.

"I hope you didn't miss me too much. Looks like we're doing about as well as usual, with or without me." He said to his old friend "Any bets on how long these fuckers can keep this up?"
<Tag Morse and anyone>

Roll Machine gun and weapons
Cpl Dirk Pitt
First squad leader

Gear
Pulse Rifle w/ 4 grenades, 8 canister shells
M1911 Colt .45 caliber Sidearm
Smoke Grenade x2
KBAR Combat Knife
Portable Welder
Ithaca Shotgun

Non Combat Equipment
Zippo lighter
Cigarettes

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