USCMRPG

Date: June 22, 2189
Location: Surface of Capua, Nembus System, Andromeda Cluster
Mission time: 05:55:30

Morse and First Platoon attempted to breach the door of the wreckage without setting off an alarm. Meanwhile the medics did what they could for the injured and Second Platoon stood guard. Some of them picked through the debris scattered across the ground and piled up any gear they could possibly use. So far they had found half a dozen space suits in various condition, a cannister of tear gas, two flashlights and some rations. It was possible that a deeper investigation would turn up even more useful gear.

Corporal Barayev got a pretty good swing and smashed in the side of the speaker. The next two swings did further damage before the fourth ripped it off the wall. The wiring hung limply where it had been. Petty Officer Fernandez was unable to locate a weak point in the wiring.

Sergeant Major Sykes took a portable welder from somebody in Second Platoon. “Here you go, this might work better than a crowbar.” He tossed it to Dimitri who began to weld through the door. This process took over a minute but the door inevitably fell outward with a thud as it hit the swampy ground. Peering inside, Dimitri saw a small, dark compartment. It seemed like much less space on the inside, the thick plating of the walls must have preserved this fragment from the impact.

They heard a groan of pain coming from the far end of the room. On the left was a computer station which still emitted a dull blue light from the shattered computer screens. They almost thought they could hear a quiet radio hail emanating from it.
(Actions)

Not one to waste anything useful, Dmitri threaded the bar through the Molle webbing on his pack before switching to his rifle.

He wrapped the rifle strap around his arm for stability and gave Morse a nod. He stood ready to advance and clear the space ahead.

Just give the order.

Mark pulled himself to the wreckage in slightly torn and mud-splattered clothing, a gift of tripping over the shrubbery around the lake and discovering perfusion of both jungle thorns and scraps of starship metal. Thankfully, no injury was sustained to him or the equipment, though it took him far and long enough to untangle himself without changing that.

Peering inside, Mark's eyes immediately caught the flickering console. "There's some kind of power. We might be able to use something there."

Pushkin heard the sound of the radio crackle in the wreckage. From his perspective he had his hopes up that they might actually have a way out of here. "Morse, I think I hear radio signal. I should investigate." Steeling his resolve, he prepared to step through the opening. He listened intently to zero in on the location of the sound. Shining his shoulder lamp around the dark room, he tried to get a clear picture of it before taking the risk. His gaze landed on Morse and with the experience of men who had fought together he left his remark unsaid; Just say the word.
<Tag Morse>

(Roll awareness)

Fernandez felt a strange dysphoria in this situation, while he was normally cautious and the marines seemed very cavalier to him he oddly felt the desire to step into the wreckage to explore. Maybe the metallic room felt enough like his home in space, enough so that he made a move to get around Pushkin and take a step into room. Fernandez turned and walked towards the computers while looking around cautiously.

(Roll Awareness)

Update from DM:

As Fernandez walks towards the monitors, he hears a quiet human sounding voice projecting from the systems. The voice sounds urgent as it lists off commands reverberating around the room, but Fernandez also hears a groan coming from the compartment next to him.

Fernandez yells out "There's someone alive in here!" and runs to open the door.

A grisly scene awaits Fernandez as he throws open the door to the dorm, a Navy officer is pinned to the floor by a chunk of the hull that caved in during reentry. His legs are hemorrhaging at the impact point and Fernandez sees a large opening into the ship from the external atmosphere. "We gotta get this man out before a god damn lizard shows up!"

<Tag Morse>

The man didn't seem to notice Fernandez at first, but he heard the shouting and looked up at him with a dazed look. "Help. Water..." he practically gasped with a croaking voice.
<Tag Fernandez>

Upon breaching the area the Marines had begun a swift search, which was executed due to the training that all of the marines had ingrained in them. The entire ship was a bit of a wreck, not exactly the best point for a shelter, but the alternative was not necessarily something the Morse was prepared to considered. At the very least it did not feel quite as humid in there as it outside.

When the notation of someone being alive over the radio came out, Morse was in favor of seeking it out... just not willing to let guard down to do it. "Find that signal... but keep rounds chambered... I don't wanna find out somethin's runnin' around here messing with our comms or our guys." Morse directed.

Morse looked back. "We ought keep together, search the ship'n mass. Not gettin' separated or lettin' anyone else get dragged off. Keep eyes up and weapons hot." The orders were simple, but even in the most hectic confrontation simple could work.

The yelling and roaring from the Navy troop got Morse's attention as they moved about. The scream of "alive" got him to immediately look outward. Though Morse had not expected survivors, he also had been in more then a few situations on an alien world where finding living troops was an ambush. Still they had to see what happened. But the Spacers directive of getting him out was not something he was readily wanting to do... especially since the lizards were known to be outside and not inside.

"If were treatin' him its gotta be in here." Morse noted. "get those rags clear." He pointed to the man's clothing that was pinned. They needed to see the damage, but Morse was not immediately wanting to touch him just because he did not know what may have been in the wreckage first.

<Roll Awareness
<Roll Medic
<Tag Anyone

as men continued to head inside Paulson realized his flamer would be more of a liability in there than an assistance. he briefly looked at the other wreckage, not wanting to search alone just incase there were more freaky lizards he called out to sgt perez for confirmation.
" should i search this outside area for anything useful"
<tag Perez>
<roll search>

Fernandez took out his canteen and placed it into the man's hand, helping him get a good grip on it before putting his attention elsewhere. He searched the compartment for a jagged piece of metal to use to cut off the clothing that was stuck under debris. After finding what could pass as a knife, at least perhaps to an overactive imagination, he began to slice through the cloth to inspect the damage.

<roll awareness>

Mark wasn't sickened or afraid of blood or bloody mangles of flesh, he'd been in the corp long enough to (mostly) get over that, but he had no particular desire to be near them either. He also knew his skills didn't lend themselves to being useful around them. So instead he crossed the wreckage to the lit terminal he had spied earlier and focused his attention on that. Better to get his mind focused on something else.

Mark knocked over a few small bits of debris in order to clear enough space to open up the intelligence case he was carrying. Rummaging through the extras he had tossed in there, he pulled out a small collection of tools and cables and got to work connecting the damaged terminal to his own tablet.

Dmitri took up a guard position near Fernadez and his patient, but faced outward, keeping an eye (and his rifle) at the ready for any surprises that might leap out at them from the mangled landscape of wreckage and jungle.

Quinn was moving with a limp, the oversized newt having cracked his numerous bone. So, he let the other Marines take point and remained behind to tend to Grisham as best he could. Upon the entering of the ship, Sixtus again stayed behind the main line so as not to get in the way.

And then the call for medical assistance came. He hobbled up, his leg in a basic splint of cloth and two sticks. He found Morse looking over the man, and saw his predicament. Sixtus moved to the impaled man’s side and looked it over, noting the man’s gasps for water.

”Give him a small sip.” he said to the room, pulled some shears from his medical kit and started cutting the man’s clothes away. Shit...

[[Roll Medicine]]