USCMRPG

Closing his eyes Obi gritted his teeth as the ship took violent evasive action. Pope's voice blared through the main broadcast warning the marines that the enemy ship had let loose a missile. The ships engines whined in protest and the lights flickered both going out completely leaving only the emergency lights and the marines shoulder lamps to provide illumination. EMP, these guys want to board us. Either they are seriously ballsy or they do not realise they have hit a Colonial Marine transport. Obi thought grimly as his unspoken thoughts were confirmed as Popes voice came across the main broadcast again stating they were going to be boarded. Reaching down into his webbing Obi removed a pulse rifle magazine and loaded his M-41. Cocking the weapon Obi left it on safe, however, with a flick of his thumb his rifle was ready to fire.

"I agree with Sam, let's hit these bastards hard and fast as soon as they dock." Obi nodded in agreement in Sams idea.

Roberts unhooked himself from his harness. He turned around and jammed his foot into his seat to give him leverage, and pulled his smartgun off of the wall. The zero-gravity made him feel uncomfortable, but he was determined and pushed it aside. After he attached the gun to his waist, he reached up and pulled down a re-breather to wear. Then he clicked on his shoulder lamp, and pulled down his infrared scanner. "I'm ready to rock and roll!" he said enthusiastically. "Let's put the fear a' God into these little pukes."

<Tag Anyone>

Roberts saw his squad-mate Giosso lugging along a sentry-gun box. 'Smart man,' he thought to himself. He was trained in special weapons operation. "Hey Giosso, I'll take that sentry-gun. Grab another one and bring it upstairs. I'll start setting this one up."

<Tag Giosso>

"Roberts, give Giosso a hand. Get two of those set up with overlapping fields of fire. If we have to fall back to the snake fighter those things will give them a warm reception. Just make sure the IFF is on." Dirk said as he passed the men with the auto turret. "Oh, and by the way. Outstanding initiative."
<Tag Roberts and Giosso>

Walking quickly to the most likely entry point Dirk readied his Pulse rifle. The excited feeling washed over him again. The feeling before combat. He had felt it every time. From the first moment he charged off the transport with his smartgun and took his spot on the wall to now. It was always the same.

"Ok people, get ready. I'll lead the assault this time. Morse, get your people on my ass and then hit the engine room. Sam, follow up and hit the bridge. It's all or nothing people, so lets make sure we win. If it were me, I would toss some flash bangs before I hit us, so be ready for it. Good luck and I'll see all of you on the other side."
<Tag Platoon>

"We're set up and ready to push them back sir."
<Tag Quinn>

There was no hesitation in Morse’s mind. The moment Dirk gave the confirmation to go to the engine room, and the under the table approval to kill everything he saw, Morse obeyed the call to get behind him.

Nothing had changed as far as Morse was concerned from the first days to the last days. Morse was getting his orders from his friend, and following them to the best of his ability, the only difference was they were slightly higher on the ladder. Morse had to give some orders too, but his squad was taking them well.

Though both of them were fairly new marines, they still had long months of working with Morse, and they had all been in combat together. They knew the basics of how each other operated, and they had all managed to get on the same page of dealing with the a problem however they had to, even if that method was a bit unorthodox.

”Deadshots. Frontline. Ready for shreddin’. Hope you fuckers a bullmount a bullets.” Morse ordered complying with Dirk’s order.

< Tag Colson and Eyeball

They got to their position and Morse lined up behind Morse. It was essentially like they were sitting in the same squad with the numbers they had, and Morse had his weapon ready. ”Well…Beats the shit outa garrison duty.” Morse commented to Dirk as they lined up, regarding their current situation.

< Tag Dirk

Sam moved to cover Giosso with her Pusle Rifle at the ready while he set up the Sentry Gun and called out; "Sal; cover Roberts while he's setting up that other Sentry Gun. After Dirk and Morse's squad make the first rush we go in hard and fast right behind them. Roberts; normally I'd take point; but with that Smartgun you're the only one of us who can sweep a room with friendlies in it and be guaranteed of not hitting any of our own; so you're first. I'm next; Mark right behind me and Sal you've got the drag."

"I don't know what the crew of the ship is likely to do; fight, surrender, rig traps or whatever. If they've got hands up; secure them if possible as they might be a good source of Intel. On the other hand; any signs of resistance; drop them in a heartbeat and we'll figure out what we can from whatever's on the ship or their bodies. Everybody good? Look sharp people!"

<Tag Giosso, Roberts & Sal>

Dirk Pitt wrote:
Moving over to Oksana he leaned down so the platoon couldn't hear him. "Listen closely. The locker room has survival suits. Get in them. If we take the other ship the LT or I will send for you two. If we don't.." He sighed at the thought "If we don't I want you two to surrender. Someone will come for you. Good luck"
<Tag Oksana>

Oksana nodded and unbuckled from her seat carefully. Gravity was out. Everything that wasn't nailed down had already started to float and drift. One advantage: Dmitri's disability was no longer a problem. All the hours he'd spent in rehab building up his strength hadn't been wasted. He easily pushed free of his chair and was already dodging the other Marines on his way to the locker room, graceful as a swimmer underwater. Oksana followed him as best she could.

Donning the suits in micro-grav wasn't easy but working together, husband and wife got the job done. Without even discussing it, they both armed themselves with the pistols they'd packed with them and taped their extra clips to their suits.

"Now what?" Oksana asked.

"Hide," Dmitri said and gave her a little push that sent her floating free. "I'll hold them off."

"Don't be an ass," she hissed back and grabbed his shoulder, halting her drift. "We stick together. Besides, where would I hide? None of the lockers are big enough. Not with the suit." Not quite the truth, but given the time they had left before they were boarded, it was close enough as made no difference. "We stick together. Two can shoot better than one."

"'Sana—," Dmitri began, clearly ready to argue but Oksana put her fingers over his lips.

"Live or die, I'm not going without you," Oksana said, hard and unmovable. Dmitri might be the captain of his own boat, but Oksana wasn't the head of her lab for nothing. "We brace for fire some place defendable and we stand ready to shoot."

Dmitri took one look at his wife and knew there was no getting around her, not when she was like this. Dmitri mentally counted the bullets they had between them and resolved to save one back … for her. He had no illusions what would happen to his wife if she were captured alive. Looking in her eyes, he saw her thoughts followed the same line, for him and for herself. Yet, she didn't flinch but met the problem head on.

How the hell did he get so lucky to have someone like her?

In an instant, all the rancor of the past several months fell away and Dmitri's course, shrouded so long in bitterness and self-loathing, lay clear before him.

"Let's go," he said.

Dirk Pitt wrote:"Roberts, give Giosso a hand. Get two of those set up with overlapping fields of fire. If we have to fall back to the snake fighter those things will give them a warm reception. Just make sure the IFF is on." Dirk said as he passed the men with the auto turret. "Oh, and by the way. Outstanding initiative."

"Copy that, Sir," he said to Dirk. Roberts dragged the sentry-gun crate up the stairs, holding his smartgun with the other hand. He found a position that would cover two doors and decided to set up the gun there. He laced his fingers into the grating on the floor and pulled himself down to it. Propping his leg against the leg of the mess table, he opened the sentry gun box. First he pulled out the tripod, and held it about where he wanted it. He searched his memory for a second, then he found the magnetic switch under the top of the tripod. He switched it to 'on', and the tripod stuck to the floor. Holding onto it as his new grip, he pulled out the gun itself, and latched it onto the tripod. After he had finished setting it up, he pulled out the computer monitor, and finally let go of the crate that had been trying to escape him in the zero-gravity. Eric locked the monitor to the ground magnetically, and then he started to work.
SYSTEM MODE: AUTO-REMOTE
WEAPON STATUS: SAFE
IFF STATUS: SEARCH
TEST ROUTINE: SELECTIVE
TARGET PROFILE: SOFT
SPECTRAL PROFILE: BIO
TARGET SELECT: MULTI SPEC

After he had set these routines, he switched it to armed. It wouldn't shoot friendlies, but anything else that was alive was in for a world of hurt.

(Roll Special Weapons Operation: Novice)

Roberts; normally I'd take point; but with that Smartgun you're the only one of us who can sweep a room with friendlies in it and be guaranteed of not hitting any of our own; so you're first. I'm next; Mark right behind me and Sal you've got the drag."

"I don't know what the crew of the ship is likely to do; fight, surrender, rig traps or whatever. If they've got hands up; secure them if possible as they might be a good source of Intel. On the other hand; any signs of resistance; drop them in a heartbeat and we'll figure out what we can from whatever's on the ship or their bodies. Everybody good? Look sharp people!"

"Yes ma'am," Roberts said obediently. He worked his way over to her and the others in his squad.

<Tag Sam>

“Right, sir, Catch” Mark replied to Roberts, giving him a moment to realize what that would mean before propelling the packed smartgun case in his direction, an act that sent the relatively light Giosso flying back the way he came, catching Dirk’s comment as he departed. He felt a small swelling of pride – there was still a paternal approval effect that came from the NCO recognizing you.

He caught himself on a handle on the wall and arrested his momentum before quickly floating his way back to storage. There he struggled to pull out another of the sentry turret boxes. It got free, but he knocked a box of pistol ammunition doing so, sending the rounds spilling out across the armory. Swimming his way through the floating bullets, he pulled himself and the gun back up to where the boarding was expecting to happen.

Once in position, he cracked open the case and started attempting to assemble the turret. The over-tight foam casing proved helpful, for once, by keeping the pieces in the box until he needed them, but every other part of the operation was at least doubled in complexity by the lack of gravity and rush to complete before the boarding took place.

“Crap!” Mark called out shortly after Sam’s instructions to the squad. He’d bumped the magazine while adjusting the bolt and it started floating all so gently away from him. He stretched to reach for the magazine as it floated away, but to no avail. “Sir, can you knock that back to me.”

<Tag Roberts>
<Tag Person magazine is floating towards.>

Quicksilver wrote:“Crap!” Mark called out shortly after Sam’s instructions to the squad. He’d bumped the magazine while adjusting the bolt and it started floating all so gently away from him. He stretched to reach for the magazine as it floated away, but to no avail. “Sir, can you knock that back to me.”

<Tag Roberts>

"Roger that," he said. As the magazine approached him he pushed it back through the air with his right hand. "I hope you can catch, Mark!" he joked.

<Tag Giosso>

Sal floated through the air as he held his rifle in hand. Sam instructed to keep the others covered and that's what He did, from an elevated position. One of the elements to Zero G was that it gave a person the ability to defend, attack, and advance at angles that were impossible otherwise.

So as Sal positioned himself relative to one of the walls, back against one of the support struts, and both hands on the rifle, set to single fire, he was out of the way of the smart gunner, the sentry gun, and most everyone eles's line of fire.

Space marines, ooh-rah. He thought as his finger caressed the trigger, ready to fire a shot into the first tango of the encounter.

< Roll Awareness>
<Ready roll Gun Combat on enemy sighting>

Colson floated up into position behind Morse. Anchoring himself by hooking a foot under a nearby manifold he grasped the back of Morse's smartgun harness and pushed down. The idea being that he could help keep Morse stable when he opened fire with his smartgun. Last thing they needed was a spinning angry Morse with a live weapon. Colson's weapon was easy to carry in the zero G, and being a SMG wouldn't have the kick of the larger guns should he need to fire one handed.

Trying to filter out the chatter and noise of his teammates Colson listened intently for any other sounds that might help locate their enemy.

<Roll Awareness

When the EMP missile hit the Snakefighter, the lights inside all died along with everything else. Only the starlight out the viewport provided any light or sense of movement as the craft kept tumbling, providing an odd sense of gravity.

Sixtus flicked the switch to activate the emergency generator, but nothing happened. He glared at the panel and tried another route. Again, nothing. "Crap."

He hit the clasp on the harness holding him in, then opened the panel in an attempt to find a solution to power up the ship. After removing a section of casing, he pulled a chem-light from his uniform, bent it until it cracked, shook it until a dull green light shone from the tube. "Pope, get down here."

The android joined him as they tried to puzzle out a run in order to restore power to the ship. After five minutes, nothing was found. Quinn cursed and pushed off of the panel. "Entire damn system is blown. She's dead in the water."

Pope nodded in silence. "Okay, we're doing this the hard way."

He pushed his feet off the rear seat, propelling himself down the ladder towards the squad bay with the green glow of his chem light showing the way just as Dirk gave the status report.

"Well done Sergeant." Quinn was glad for Dirk's usual efficiency at getting things done, it let him think on other things. "Like how to get us out of this mess." he muttered under his breath.

Arriving at his locker, Quinn pulled on his armor as fast as he dared while speaking aloud to the platoon. "Alright Marines, here's the play. After we beat back the pirate's first push, we're going to counter-assault their craft before they can detach. Sam, your squad will take the enemy bridge. Dirk and I will take the Engineering section. Morse, you're on combat patrol, seek and destroy. Try not to break anything vital."

Quinn slapped the locks on his armor and floated over to the weapon racks, opening the locker with his name upon it. Inside was an incinerator and a pump-action shotgun. He withdrew the shotgun and drew extra shells. He slipped several inside the weapon and floated over towards the gathering of Marines. "No incinerators, no frag grenades, no missiles. Stock up on smokers and flashbangs. Do this hard and fast, show them they fucked with the wrong ship."

<tag Marines>

A dark shadow passed over the Snakefighter as the incoming freighter drew near, like a shark stalking it's prey, the larger ship circled. Each pass drew it closer.

A low, thump can be heard as well as felt. The slow tumble of the ship stops abruptly.
<Actions>

Roberts cocked his smartgun, readying for the fight. He propped himself against the food and beverage dispenser of the mess hall. He would need to steady himself against this wall to prevent being thrown back by firing his weapon. He aimed it at Airlock B, the only door that wasn't well covered by the sentry guns. He figured that 2nd Squad would cover Airlock C behind them.

Roberts said a small prayer in his head. Since he had left active duty years ago, he had struggled with the religion he had previously been so fanatic about. But with the eyes of death squarely upon him, and no immediate task to occupy his mind, his faith returned unchallenged.

In the moments before Mark was braced with the rest of 1nd squad, pistol in one hand and motion tracker in the other. Like the others, he was knocked around as the spinning ship came to a sudden halt, throwing him into the deck. Stumbling, he was forced to holster the tracker to free a hand and secure himself again. Wedging his boots in a corner again, he struggled to keep his pistol trained on the door as he got back in position. At least the turrets are stable. he thought comfortingly, remembering the one he'd secured to the “roof” nearby.

“They've latched” he commented, stating the obvious. “Is anyone still near a window, can you see what side they’re on?

<Tag Anyone>