USCMRPG

2179 AD, 6th October
Location: Sol system, Gateway Station, USS Fidanza, Docking Bay
Mission timer: 00:01:56

"Flight control, Alpha one four two and Alpha one four one requesting departure clearance. Roger, clearance recieved will use bravo five niner corridor approach. Over and out. Ok all set - Disengage primary couplings. Check. Switch to DFA from RFA ranging. Check. Port? Clear. Starboard? Clear. Crew positions prepare for drop, cross check and report. Crew reports dropstations secure - All clear. Roger - Prepare for drop on my mark. Five. Four. Three. Two. One. Mark!"

The dropship was immidiately caught in the gravity of the large blue planet and started accelerating with break neck speed downwards. The two dropships, 001 and 002, descended with a mere kilometer between them. The pilot of 001 could clearly see how 002 was already starting to pick particle ionization in from of them with increasing frequency. What at first was a faint glow increased to a roaring glimmering fireball that all but engulfed the dropship. Moments later 001 vision was blurred as it entered the very outer layer of the atmosphere. With that all radio communication was broken, two minutes of silence before being able to communicate. The ship rattled and shook, the sinking feeling in the stomach increased further as the negative G forces tugged and jerked the marines inside the APCs in their respective dropships. Platoon command and Squad one rode in 001 and second, third and the support squad were crammed into 001. The support squad actually rode in the cargo bay of 002, a quite unpleasant place to be during an atmospheric drop - Extremely noisy and hot. The fact that a huge APC stood just a few feet away secured only by two magnetic locks was also a bit unnerving.

The marines would be landing around 1900 hours local time, New York, United Americas. After just two minutes the shaking lessened quite noticeably and although the ships were still bumping along it was not as jerky as before.

>


 

Sitting in her 'hot seat', Sam grimaced as the Dropship accelerated down through the atmosphere. God, I HATE this part!, she thought to herself as she felt the G-forces in the pit of her stomach. She also kept glancing nervously at the APC just a few feet away and praying that it stayed where it was. She really didn't want to leave this world crushed against the side of a Dropship like a bug on a windshield.

Forcing herself to think positively, she smiled at the memory of Jean talking to her. She really liked the synthetic woman and not noticing the irony of the thought, she truly admired the fact that she wasn't the least bit fake.

Chris ignored the vicious rattling of the transport. He straddled his M240 Incinerator, flicking the ignitor on...off....on...off...on...off... He was lost in thought, staring down at the metal floor. He had never been to New York City. He grew up in Southie, Boston. It was either the street life or the military. He decided to choose the latter.

Sixtus had his head leaned back against the headrest of his seat, his eyes closed and his head rocking along with the dropship. His chest rose and fall as his breathing was slow and regular. Only the longtime veterans of the platoon knew that the medic was actually dozing off during the drop. Everyone had their little way of coping...

The rumbling of the dropship was something that got old fast. Morse's expression was one of discontent and insubordination. He rattled with the shaking of the compartment they sat in. He liked the fact that they were gonna be on Earth, but hated the idea that they were goin to New York. Morse had been there only once, and it was a sprawling city of filth, where the people were always angry, and were goin no where. He just kept on rattling with the rattling waiting for the ride to end.

Morse pulled the flask outa his pocket and took a slug off it. The air around him started to reek with the stinging scent of the 'homebrew' he made anytime he got the chance. He had two flasks this time around, he kept the last in his med-bag. He just sat there staring blankly across at the wall opposite him. 

It was Jeans’ first drop, but she was strapped into the APC’s drivers-seat and knew exactly what to do. The small heads up display above the plasma screen told her that they had another minute of clearing turns before they managed to get to a slow enough speed to use their E6B Flight Computers in the cockpit to judge their landing spot.

It was odd for the ship to be picking up hull ionization of this magnitude because usually the ships are dropped from geosync orbit to avoid being 17,500 miles per hours when they hit the atmosphere. When at a range of forty miles in HEO orbit, it cancelled out the need for avoiding the ionization in the ionosphere altogether. This was all in her programming. To her, she may as well have done this a million times because she knew what to expect.

She supposed whoever was piloting the dropship was a hotdog pilot. Jean checked her gun that was issued to her. Her Asimov chip was running hot after hearing the conversations about nuking the city. She didn’t assume to think for a moment that she would ever need a sidearm. The young looking girl pulled the sidearm from her holster and ejected the magazine and pulled back the slider.

She was right.

There was a bullet in the breach. It ejected from the receiver and she caught it with her opposite hand despite the extreme turbulence of the unorthodox atmospheric entry procedure. Jean didn’t want any risk of her gun going of. This was her programming and there was nothing much she could do about it aside from follow the guidelines that were hard wired into her 1s and 0s.

She snapped that round back into the magazine, and then slapped it into her pistol. No one would find out that it wasn’t ready to fire. The last thing she wanted was to hurt a human being. She snapped the pistol into her holster and held on for the rest of the ride.

Dirk sat, locked in the seat as the dropship was being readied for the drop. He almost laughed at the thought of droping on Earth. The last time he did a drop here was his first. Hell he hadn't even been Earth side in years. He thought. Not that there was anyone for him to see anyway. The only thing he wanted to happen on this op was to take care of this mess and catch a Yankee game.

The ship dropped and the bottom seem to fall out of the ship. He went from gravity to zero grav to a couple Gs in a few seconds. It was always a blast.

"Ok third. Once we hit the beach I want everyone ready to go. But remember, we are in a Earth city, so watch it. I don't want any of you apes blowing up Yankee stadium before I get so see a game." He said as he put a cigaret in his mouth, leaving it unlit.

Kurosaki glanced around at his squad in Dropship 001. Kurosaki had a burning question.

"What are we going to do about the press? What's our game plan?"

Sergeant wrote: Kurosaki glanced around at his squad in Dropship 001. Kurosaki had a burning question.

"What are we going to do about the press? What's our game plan?"

Jean could hear Kurosaki's question. She pulled at her restraints so that she could lean over the narrow barrier between the squad compartment and the drivers compartment. She kept having to move her straight shoulder length synthetic black hair behind her ear so that it wouldn't keep dangling in front of her eyes as she did so. She yelled over the turbulence.

“Headquarters never told us anything about it,â€

Morse heard the strained speaking of a man who seemed to talk without moving his teeth or lips. He pinned the voice to his Dirk. Morse still had the flask in his hand and his devious looking smile appeared on his face. He absolutely despised the fact that they were going to New York, but from what he could tell Dirk seemed to be liking the idea of it.

"God Dangit Dirk, What the hell you wanna be done goin to some damn game a yanks? You know them games rigged tighter then barrel full a brew. What done after that insident in 28 wa'nt it?... Shit i don't watch em damn things. But what dern difference it make to you what we do to this heap a bugs n' filth?" Morse said it all very quickly. Taking another slug off of his flask.

< Tag Dirk

patch sat quietly in drop 001, this was only his 3rd?.. no 4th real drop and lets face it simulation just didn't cut it.
he looked round the command squad, all present and correct, he was just hoping that the new LT lasted longer than the last and knew what the fuck they were doing.

he tapped the comms channel through to the pilot " smooth ride guys, love ya long time...ETA?"

His arms resting in his lap, Obi snuggled a little deeper in his seat and pushed his head back into the headrest.  Closing his eyes and keeping his body relaxed, rocking along with the buffering of the dropship as it entered the atmosphere and flew through the air.  Obi blocked out the voices and noise around him and tried enjoy a few more minutes of peace....

Erik hated dropship insertions but there was no way around them. But they always brought up the memory of a childhood tragedy of when he had been about 15 and at an amusement park, where a spinning ride had malfunctioned and put 2 kids through a chain link fence like pieces of cheese through a cheese grater.
He tried not to think of it but with the dropship ride feeling so much like a ride at carnivals it always came to the front. Also the suddeness of the freefall and reentry, it always upset his stomach. So he just sat quietly and endured the feelings and mental pain, knowing it would end some time soon.

Monks was slowly dozing and re waking up. He knew he would fall asleep quite easily  and remembered from is childhood, having sleep over and always falling asleep first and After three drops he was still private first class which incited him because there are some new fresh cadets that have never been in a drop and yet are higher rank than he  and think they can make a good first impression on there senior officers.
"Dirk do you think we'll encounter those bug things again or just need to shoot some humans" Said the private.

(tag Dirk)

Morse wrote: "God Dangit Dirk, What the hell you wanna be done goin to some damn game a yanks? You know them games rigged tighter then barrel full a brew. What done after that insident in 28 wa'nt it?... Shit i don't watch em damn things. But what dern difference it make to you what we do to this heap a bugs n' filth?" Morse said it all very quickly. Taking another slug off of his flask.



Then turning towards Monks "I hope that tose things haven't burst out of those guys yet. We might be able to take them alive, but we'll do whatever we have to do." He said in a low voice.