Turn 20: Rewards
- Corporal Hicks
- Major
- Posts: 1733
- Joined: Wed Apr 11, 2007 10:13 pm
- Location: Utica, Polaris System
- Contact:
Turn 20: Rewards
Morse and Barayev threw the facehugger, which skidded along the metal deck. Private Henniger took careful aim and blasted it away, with Morse’s pistol rounds peppering the point of impact. The Marines fired into the hordes of aliens that drew in around them as they fell back to the now landed dropship. The aliens seemed wary of the dropship, not having witnessed such a large creature before. The alien queen controlled each warrior like pawns on a chessboard, but she wasn’t over eager to lose fifty at one time to some huge creature.
The queen underestimated the range of the dropship. Its seemingly passive features lit up like hellfire. The missiles and gatling guns tore into the horde, splattering acid blood all over the hangar bay. Then, realizing their error too late, the aliens all charged at once. Orozco splattered one at the front as she ran up the ramp of the hangar. The civilians were all running up the ramp with the leading Marines. Sykes stopped at the base of the ramp and covered the retreat of the others.
One alien charged at the stumbling pair of Barayev and Henniger. The injured Private raised his pulse rifle and splashed its guts across the deck. Another alien went for Lance Corporal Paulson, but he unleashed his last burst of flame right in its face, burning it to a crisp. The pilot light at the barrel of the weapon was extinguished as the last fuel was gone.
The last two Marines to climb up the ramp were Sykes and Sokolova. The xenomorphs tried to swarm the ramp as it started to rise, but Sokolova fired a harpoon SHARP explosive right into the deck. It exploded and scattered the aliens like nine-pins. Now the ramp was closed, and the survivors were rapidly strapping themselves in for a bumpy ride. The pilots looked calm as they navigated the ascent. The co-pilot attempted to open the hangar doors remotely, but they were not responding. “That’s fine, hang on,” said Dizzy. He opened fire with a dozen missiles that hit the hangar doors with a fiery explosion. The dropship lurched as the hangar explosively decompressed (literally and figuratively.)
“Hang on,” said the pilot as the dropship thudded past the remaining chunks of hangar door and exited into space. The Marines looked around at each other in disbelief. Suddenly, there was nothing to do, no order to follow, no objective to achieve. They had survived.
The next four days involved a lot of tedious work as the various U.A. Navy vessels worked out all of the details of their trip home to earth. On the second day, Gaia Station’s reactor gave out again and the station plummeted into the gas giant which it orbited. This would save the Navy the ordinance, and possibly save Commander Zimmerman’s career as he had not fired the shot. For the Marines however, it involved hours and hours of waiting, followed by various quarantine protocols, psychiatric evaluations, and on and on. At the end of it, they were happy to be back on the U.S.S. Heimlich and headed home.
Date: October 10th, 2189
Time: 09:35:00
Location: Earth
The Marines sat in rows at a series of tables. The tables were adorned with expensive white cloth and numerous expensive silver dishes. The food on their plates was about twenty steps above anything they had ever eaten while in the Marine Corps. The survivors of the wreck of the U.S.S. Shiloh were being honored at an official Navy banquet. Not only had they overcome all odds in surviving the harsh climate of Capua, they had flown directly into more danger to warn the residents of Orion’s Belt. Their actions aboard Gaia Station may have saved as many as four thousand lives. As far as Earth was concerned, every one of them was a hero. And the Navy wasn’t going to miss any chance to take advantage of this opportunity to boost recruitment. The Marines had been away from earth for over six months, ever since they left for Operation Fury in late March.
Captain Tucker Nelson of the U.S.S. Omaha, formerly Lieutenant Nelson of the U.S.S. Shiloh, stood up and cleared his throat. He spoke at length about a number of things before he finally came to the Marines. “Now I would like to ask every member of the United States Colonial Marines to please stand up. I would like to personally thank every one of you. I’m sure you’ve all heard the jokes that sailors like to make about Marines.” The room chuckled dutifully. “But I want to tell you that you all were invaluable throughout the two campaigns we fought together. If it were not for you, us Navy guys all would have died on Capua. I am quite assured of that. When I was so out of my element, it made all the difference to be able to rely on sturdy men and women who were up to the task. I would like to personally thank Sergeant Major Daniel Sykes, Staff Sergeant Allen Morse, Sergeant Juan Perez, and Sergeant Samantha Hall for their leadership.”
The room clapped and whooped for the Marines who were so utterly unused to any kind of thanks or praise for their gritty work. As it quieted down, Nelson spoke again. “But all of that is just talk. I am happy to say, that I have used my new-found influence in your favor! Each and every one of you will be granted three months furlough! No doubt you’ll all jump at the chance to spend your hard-won earnings but hear me out! Hear me out!” he spoke louder to be overheard above the buzz of excited voices and outright cheering. Sykes and a few other NCOs quieted the rank and file through barked orders and threats and order was quickly restored. “But there is more. For anyone who desires the opportunity, the publicity department is going to take a 36-day tour around all the major cities of Earth to show off the heroes of the Nembus Campaign and the Orion’s Belt Campaign. You will have all expenses paid, five-star hotel rooms, banquets, and award ceremonies, and you’ll see the world you all fought so hard to protect. Thank you all for your service.”
(OOC: Thank you all for playing in my campaigns! Please take this turn to roleplay your character however you would like and tell us what your character does with three months of furlough. The Polaris Campaign is scheduled to begin next weekend with JuanPerez taking the lead.)
The queen underestimated the range of the dropship. Its seemingly passive features lit up like hellfire. The missiles and gatling guns tore into the horde, splattering acid blood all over the hangar bay. Then, realizing their error too late, the aliens all charged at once. Orozco splattered one at the front as she ran up the ramp of the hangar. The civilians were all running up the ramp with the leading Marines. Sykes stopped at the base of the ramp and covered the retreat of the others.
One alien charged at the stumbling pair of Barayev and Henniger. The injured Private raised his pulse rifle and splashed its guts across the deck. Another alien went for Lance Corporal Paulson, but he unleashed his last burst of flame right in its face, burning it to a crisp. The pilot light at the barrel of the weapon was extinguished as the last fuel was gone.
The last two Marines to climb up the ramp were Sykes and Sokolova. The xenomorphs tried to swarm the ramp as it started to rise, but Sokolova fired a harpoon SHARP explosive right into the deck. It exploded and scattered the aliens like nine-pins. Now the ramp was closed, and the survivors were rapidly strapping themselves in for a bumpy ride. The pilots looked calm as they navigated the ascent. The co-pilot attempted to open the hangar doors remotely, but they were not responding. “That’s fine, hang on,” said Dizzy. He opened fire with a dozen missiles that hit the hangar doors with a fiery explosion. The dropship lurched as the hangar explosively decompressed (literally and figuratively.)
“Hang on,” said the pilot as the dropship thudded past the remaining chunks of hangar door and exited into space. The Marines looked around at each other in disbelief. Suddenly, there was nothing to do, no order to follow, no objective to achieve. They had survived.
The next four days involved a lot of tedious work as the various U.A. Navy vessels worked out all of the details of their trip home to earth. On the second day, Gaia Station’s reactor gave out again and the station plummeted into the gas giant which it orbited. This would save the Navy the ordinance, and possibly save Commander Zimmerman’s career as he had not fired the shot. For the Marines however, it involved hours and hours of waiting, followed by various quarantine protocols, psychiatric evaluations, and on and on. At the end of it, they were happy to be back on the U.S.S. Heimlich and headed home.
Date: October 10th, 2189
Time: 09:35:00
Location: Earth
The Marines sat in rows at a series of tables. The tables were adorned with expensive white cloth and numerous expensive silver dishes. The food on their plates was about twenty steps above anything they had ever eaten while in the Marine Corps. The survivors of the wreck of the U.S.S. Shiloh were being honored at an official Navy banquet. Not only had they overcome all odds in surviving the harsh climate of Capua, they had flown directly into more danger to warn the residents of Orion’s Belt. Their actions aboard Gaia Station may have saved as many as four thousand lives. As far as Earth was concerned, every one of them was a hero. And the Navy wasn’t going to miss any chance to take advantage of this opportunity to boost recruitment. The Marines had been away from earth for over six months, ever since they left for Operation Fury in late March.
Captain Tucker Nelson of the U.S.S. Omaha, formerly Lieutenant Nelson of the U.S.S. Shiloh, stood up and cleared his throat. He spoke at length about a number of things before he finally came to the Marines. “Now I would like to ask every member of the United States Colonial Marines to please stand up. I would like to personally thank every one of you. I’m sure you’ve all heard the jokes that sailors like to make about Marines.” The room chuckled dutifully. “But I want to tell you that you all were invaluable throughout the two campaigns we fought together. If it were not for you, us Navy guys all would have died on Capua. I am quite assured of that. When I was so out of my element, it made all the difference to be able to rely on sturdy men and women who were up to the task. I would like to personally thank Sergeant Major Daniel Sykes, Staff Sergeant Allen Morse, Sergeant Juan Perez, and Sergeant Samantha Hall for their leadership.”
The room clapped and whooped for the Marines who were so utterly unused to any kind of thanks or praise for their gritty work. As it quieted down, Nelson spoke again. “But all of that is just talk. I am happy to say, that I have used my new-found influence in your favor! Each and every one of you will be granted three months furlough! No doubt you’ll all jump at the chance to spend your hard-won earnings but hear me out! Hear me out!” he spoke louder to be overheard above the buzz of excited voices and outright cheering. Sykes and a few other NCOs quieted the rank and file through barked orders and threats and order was quickly restored. “But there is more. For anyone who desires the opportunity, the publicity department is going to take a 36-day tour around all the major cities of Earth to show off the heroes of the Nembus Campaign and the Orion’s Belt Campaign. You will have all expenses paid, five-star hotel rooms, banquets, and award ceremonies, and you’ll see the world you all fought so hard to protect. Thank you all for your service.”
(OOC: Thank you all for playing in my campaigns! Please take this turn to roleplay your character however you would like and tell us what your character does with three months of furlough. The Polaris Campaign is scheduled to begin next weekend with JuanPerez taking the lead.)
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USCM Special Forces Recon Team
Serial Number: D26/TQ6.3.48412E9
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- BarbarianMathematics
- Sergeant
- Posts: 100
- Joined: Sun Dec 30, 2018 9:41 pm
- Location: USA
Re: Turn 20: Rewards
As soon as Corporal Pushkin arrived at Earth, the medical staff got him out of the cryosleep casket and rushed him to the ICU. Once there, he had to first get his head treated for the quite invasive reconstructive surgery that was needed to replace a large part of his skull. Secondly, once the skull plate was put into place, they realized that his brain was functioning but was not entirely intact. The sniper round had not achieved its goal, but it had not failed completely. They decided to send him off to get both physical and mental therapy. This was also to see if he would eventually be able to go back and serve in the line of duty. During his time there, he had to go through physical therapy, though the tests showed he had recovered his motor-functions quite well. They found what the major issue was when the nurses came in to feed him his meal, realizing too late when they saw him go into a fit of rage over a dish of beef stroganoff that his frontal lobe was the part needing fixed. No doubt he could learn to control his now significantly diminished inhibition, but it would be a long process.
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USCM Special Forces Recon Team
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Corporal Nikolai Pushkin - ComTech
(Currently recovering)
Re: Turn 20: Rewards
Henniger was able to limp on his own two feet during the return journey. After a surgery, a few skin grafts and skin packs, not to mention an IV drip that ran night and day to increase his liquid volume to boost blood cell replenishment and blood pressure after the blood loss, he was returned under light duty restrictions. The med techs at Gateway enroute to earth put him through physical therapy. It hurt but his platoon mates frequently dropped in to provoke harder work in his exercises. His leg was for intents and Marine Corps purposes declared fit for active service. He was handed his Purple Heart at some point, and he seemed to be one of the team amongst the Recon Marines.
His leg healed, but the moment he was helped off the Cheyenne after the hot exfil and onto their ship the implications of what he had just seen and survived hit him like a cold fist that made his whole body numb. Throughout the journey to earth he struggled with what he knew was out there. A species of hostile, horrifying creatures that could show up practically anywhere in small numbers and within days completely destroy a human population. That destruction involved horrific human carnage and horror. Not a way to go he'd wish on his most hated enemy. He dwelled on that horror until another thought struck him. He knew. He knew about this threat and not many did. He could never go home again. He could not risk his family being targeted by the Company or the United Americas government because they'd been in contact with him. This realization stripped him of his ideal of home. He'd carried his home in the back of his mind throughout his first four years as an infantryman. He'd not known that he had, but he knew now. He had nowhere to go back to.
He languished over this for some time before coming to the realization that he only had one family left now. The others also had this terrible knowledge. He knew the USCM and the Company were in bed together. He knew how they both worked. As long as he had value to them, they'd keep him around. As long as he could fight, he'd be an asset, treated like a son at least on the surface. They were all he had now. And if his new existence was to fight nightmare monsters that actually existed as well as any human stupid enough to make enemies of the Colonial Marines, he needed information. He needed every scrap of intel he could find. Fighting huge banana headed monsters who bled acid and had two sets of teeth had been mind numbing enough. But after the struggle with the crab creature that was clearly some kind of larval representation of the banana heads, he knew that he didn't know anywhere near enough. If there were two equally horrifying types, there were likely more.
He decided to go to his current squad leader and talk this over.
<tag Morse>
Sitting in the accommodations in his dress blues on his bunk, he reflected on the captains words and the banquet in general. As he stripped bits of his uniform off and carefully stowed them away, he watched his platoon mates banter and discuss their options put forth by the captain. Now that he knew that these men and women were his world now, he would go along with the majority. He certainly wouldn't risk using his furlough to expose his parents to his liability.
He cleared his throat, lit a smoke, and looked around.
"So what's the plan?"
<tag everyone>
His leg healed, but the moment he was helped off the Cheyenne after the hot exfil and onto their ship the implications of what he had just seen and survived hit him like a cold fist that made his whole body numb. Throughout the journey to earth he struggled with what he knew was out there. A species of hostile, horrifying creatures that could show up practically anywhere in small numbers and within days completely destroy a human population. That destruction involved horrific human carnage and horror. Not a way to go he'd wish on his most hated enemy. He dwelled on that horror until another thought struck him. He knew. He knew about this threat and not many did. He could never go home again. He could not risk his family being targeted by the Company or the United Americas government because they'd been in contact with him. This realization stripped him of his ideal of home. He'd carried his home in the back of his mind throughout his first four years as an infantryman. He'd not known that he had, but he knew now. He had nowhere to go back to.
He languished over this for some time before coming to the realization that he only had one family left now. The others also had this terrible knowledge. He knew the USCM and the Company were in bed together. He knew how they both worked. As long as he had value to them, they'd keep him around. As long as he could fight, he'd be an asset, treated like a son at least on the surface. They were all he had now. And if his new existence was to fight nightmare monsters that actually existed as well as any human stupid enough to make enemies of the Colonial Marines, he needed information. He needed every scrap of intel he could find. Fighting huge banana headed monsters who bled acid and had two sets of teeth had been mind numbing enough. But after the struggle with the crab creature that was clearly some kind of larval representation of the banana heads, he knew that he didn't know anywhere near enough. If there were two equally horrifying types, there were likely more.
He decided to go to his current squad leader and talk this over.
<tag Morse>
Sitting in the accommodations in his dress blues on his bunk, he reflected on the captains words and the banquet in general. As he stripped bits of his uniform off and carefully stowed them away, he watched his platoon mates banter and discuss their options put forth by the captain. Now that he knew that these men and women were his world now, he would go along with the majority. He certainly wouldn't risk using his furlough to expose his parents to his liability.
He cleared his throat, lit a smoke, and looked around.
"So what's the plan?"
<tag everyone>
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A11/TQ2.0.22146E1
U.S.S. Chimera
Recon Rifleman, Comtech electronics secondary
3rd FTL, Call Sign Devil Dawgs.
Armor and webbing
M41A Pulse Rifle + 7 mags
M40 Grenades x 10
Hand Welder
Service Pistol + 2 Mags
Mk. 1 Combat Knife
Rations/Water
Com-Tech Bypass Device
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Re: Turn 20: Rewards
time off had been a mixed blessing, the meal and medal show had felt just like that, a dog and pony show parading the survivors out for some kind of political gain, but Paulson knew this would happen and grinned and bared it, nodding in the right places and agreeing with the higher ups when needed, the food had actually been pretty good.
after this Paulson had taken some time away to himself to try and deal with the mixed emotions he had come away with, the nightmares where bad to start with but had eased with time, eventually he had drifted back to re-certify with his special weapons school concentrating more on use of flamer than he had sentry towers which is what he had majored in last time, the classes had been lacking and not very realistic but he felt he had gained a little from the experience he came away still unsure whether he would take a flamer or pulse rifle next time he drew weapons for combat.
finally Paulson had returned to camp after a month of just trying to get back in shape, in training school he had let himself relax a bit and it had been easy to drink to well and eat to much or vice versa, so the last month had been a hard sweat to get back into and in fact better than the shape he had been in before. now he found himself back in the mess hall just as the new recruits where beginning to turn up from their basic rotations and he wondered how they would take to special forces devil dawgs life.
after this Paulson had taken some time away to himself to try and deal with the mixed emotions he had come away with, the nightmares where bad to start with but had eased with time, eventually he had drifted back to re-certify with his special weapons school concentrating more on use of flamer than he had sentry towers which is what he had majored in last time, the classes had been lacking and not very realistic but he felt he had gained a little from the experience he came away still unsure whether he would take a flamer or pulse rifle next time he drew weapons for combat.
finally Paulson had returned to camp after a month of just trying to get back in shape, in training school he had let himself relax a bit and it had been easy to drink to well and eat to much or vice versa, so the last month had been a hard sweat to get back into and in fact better than the shape he had been in before. now he found himself back in the mess hall just as the new recruits where beginning to turn up from their basic rotations and he wondered how they would take to special forces devil dawgs life.
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incinerator, 2 spare fuel bottles, motion detector, first aid kit, pistol, knife, 2 frag.
special weapons tech
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- BarbarianMathematics
- Sergeant
- Posts: 100
- Joined: Sun Dec 30, 2018 9:41 pm
- Location: USA
Re: Turn 20: Rewards
Tanya Sokolova took them up on the offer of going about on the military parade, figuring it would be a way to see the world without any of the cost coming from her earnings, even if it was just for publicity. First though, she got her leg cleaned up from the chip in her kneecap. Seeing as the chip was minor, the doctors were able to get her patched up and out before they went and had their field trip around the world. The trip was relaxing, having to try the finest cuisines and see the sights that people have suggested going within the allotted time between. However, she figured this might only be a once in a lifetime deal for them, save for being "paraded" around the galaxy to parts unknown.
Once the days of the traveling ended, she took a month or so long vacation back home to Sevastopol to visit the beaches, family, recouping from her time spent the next star system over, and to relax. Some of the memories she saw from the previous two years would stick with her for a long time, especially the things that were too classified to talk about, given Sykes had both tried hitting on her half-heartedly once they were off the clock, but also explained what some of the classified documents were pertaining to some of the lifeforms they had seen, now that she was officially part of the Devil Dawgs. Saying her goodbyes to old family and friends, she headed back to the states to start her regiment again and make sure she was in top shape for the next deployment they would be facing.
Once the days of the traveling ended, she took a month or so long vacation back home to Sevastopol to visit the beaches, family, recouping from her time spent the next star system over, and to relax. Some of the memories she saw from the previous two years would stick with her for a long time, especially the things that were too classified to talk about, given Sykes had both tried hitting on her half-heartedly once they were off the clock, but also explained what some of the classified documents were pertaining to some of the lifeforms they had seen, now that she was officially part of the Devil Dawgs. Saying her goodbyes to old family and friends, she headed back to the states to start her regiment again and make sure she was in top shape for the next deployment they would be facing.
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USCM Special Forces Recon Team
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Corporal Nikolai Pushkin - ComTech
(Currently recovering)
Re: Turn 20: Rewards
After his chain of command gave him digital disks with all their current intelligence on what the Marine Corps called Xenomorphs, newly minted PFC Henniger studied and trained. His first four years under his belt, he reflected. In the modern Colonial Marines, promotions didn't come like his history studies in university said the 20th Century had. Nowadays you could do eight years in the grunts and still be a buck private. Colonial Marines were so versatile and technical on the individual level that the TOE didn't award and promote those simply good at their jobs. His PFC chevron came down from his leadership and the honor wasn't lost on him.
He ended up taking his furlough at the Marine Corps' Camp Pendleton. His platoon had mostly headed off on the PR tour. He had decided on a happy medium of being near a base and clearing his head. It was tough being back in his home country/state of California/USAA and not seeing his parents. He went to the beach on and off post every day and surfed. He ran on the cliffs overlooking San Onofre and the old decomped nuclear power station. He piggy backed on some parachute jumps with 1st Recon at Camp Margarita but left right after he turned his rig in so as not to expose those Marines to the contagion of his knowledge.
He got his orders for San Diego during his furlough and reported early since it was a forty minute drive from North Gate Pendleton.
He ended up taking his furlough at the Marine Corps' Camp Pendleton. His platoon had mostly headed off on the PR tour. He had decided on a happy medium of being near a base and clearing his head. It was tough being back in his home country/state of California/USAA and not seeing his parents. He went to the beach on and off post every day and surfed. He ran on the cliffs overlooking San Onofre and the old decomped nuclear power station. He piggy backed on some parachute jumps with 1st Recon at Camp Margarita but left right after he turned his rig in so as not to expose those Marines to the contagion of his knowledge.
He got his orders for San Diego during his furlough and reported early since it was a forty minute drive from North Gate Pendleton.
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A11/TQ2.0.22146E1
U.S.S. Chimera
Recon Rifleman, Comtech electronics secondary
3rd FTL, Call Sign Devil Dawgs.
Armor and webbing
M41A Pulse Rifle + 7 mags
M40 Grenades x 10
Hand Welder
Service Pistol + 2 Mags
Mk. 1 Combat Knife
Rations/Water
Com-Tech Bypass Device
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- Medic Guy
- Master Sergeant
- Posts: 253
- Joined: Tue Feb 24, 2015 3:17 am
- Location: Southern United States
Re: Turn 20: Rewards
Digital Journal of Isabel Orozco:
10 October, 2189
Everyone received orders today to attend a dinner this evening at one of the nicest hotels that I've ever seen. I was overwhelmed by the formality of everything at the banquet. This was one of the fanciest places I could even imagine. The table clothes felt like a fancy dress, silver tableware that had a mirror shine to it, chandeliers, wine glasses. Felt like we'd been invited to dinner with the president of the ICC or something,
old guy. The formality of it all was refreshing and made me queasy to my stomach at the same time.
Lieutenant Nelson got promoted to Captain after we got home and actually gave a pretty good speech. I'm not sure that I'd feel comfortable getting up in front of all the people that were in that ballroom without feeling like I was going to throw up everything in my stomach. We get a three month furlough!!! I'm so excited that I'll get to do something with out being ordered to for a bit.
There is also an option to go on a 36 day tour around the big cities on Earth
I've never seen most of Earth, it's so different from Bastille, The whole place looks like Tipolla city just kept growing and growing all over the place. I want to see if
Quinn
is going to go on the tour or not, wish I'd had my journal available back on planet, maybe I'll add more in later. Gives me the flutters just thinking about it now, Garota, você tem que manter sua cabeça no lugar. Gostaria de poder conversar com a mãe sobre tudo o que aconteceu nos últimos meses.
The nightmares...I'll save that for another entry, I'm in too good a mood to bring myself down right now. This bed is so soft and warm. Later...
Izzy
end of tranmission...
10 October, 2189
Everyone received orders today to attend a dinner this evening at one of the nicest hotels that I've ever seen. I was overwhelmed by the formality of everything at the banquet. This was one of the fanciest places I could even imagine. The table clothes felt like a fancy dress, silver tableware that had a mirror shine to it, chandeliers, wine glasses. Felt like we'd been invited to dinner with the president of the ICC or something,
![Roll Eyes ::)](./images/smilies/rolleyes.gif)
Lieutenant Nelson got promoted to Captain after we got home and actually gave a pretty good speech. I'm not sure that I'd feel comfortable getting up in front of all the people that were in that ballroom without feeling like I was going to throw up everything in my stomach. We get a three month furlough!!! I'm so excited that I'll get to do something with out being ordered to for a bit.
There is also an option to go on a 36 day tour around the big cities on Earth
![Shocked :o](./images/smilies/shocked.gif)
![Lips Sealed :-X](./images/smilies/lipsrsealed.gif)
![Kiss :-*](./images/smilies/kiss.gif)
![Kiss :-*](./images/smilies/kiss.gif)
The nightmares...I'll save that for another entry, I'm in too good a mood to bring myself down right now. This bed is so soft and warm. Later...
Izzy
end of tranmission...
![Image](https://i.imgur.com/Q64noBv.png)
USCM Special Forces Recon Team
Serial Number: L69/EA5.2.31782M9
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Pvt. Isabel Orozco - Rifleman; formerly of the U.S.S. Shiloh Marine Detachment, currently on public relations campaign.
Private Dave Halbert - unknown location
- Corporal Hicks
- Major
- Posts: 1733
- Joined: Wed Apr 11, 2007 10:13 pm
- Location: Utica, Polaris System
- Contact:
Re: Turn 20: Rewards
Danny Sykes wolfed down the delicious food on the plates before him. He paused from time to time and grinned at the people around him. Even after all these years as a gruff NCO, he still had that glowing and ingenuous smile, not to mention the personal magnetism. Currently, he was just trying to soak it all in. Sure, he might be as jaded as the next Corps lifer, but he had sweated and bled and thought he was going to die plenty of times over the last six months. He was making an active, enterprising effort to enjoy this.
He was as pleased as anyone else to hear the news about the furlough and the publicity tour. Just the thought of running wild in town was enough to get him really amped. Beers, bourbons, cigars, and girls, he was going to live it up. “Hey, what do I always tell you people?!” he asked loudly of the tables of Marines. “In the Marine Corps, every meal’s a banquet!” He paraphrased the popular slogan to the sound of groans from the people around him. “No, seriously though. I want every one of you to live it up and enjoy yourselves while you have the chance. That’s an order!”
<Tag Everyone>
A Marine had to live from day to day in Sykes’ estimation. He was always pulled from place to place with no control over his destiny, and every day he went to work could be his last. That’s why as soon as the banquet was done, he called up a girl he knew in Denver. He wasn’t going to miss the publicity tour, but he had a week until then.
November 21st, 2189
Sykes stared at the morphine administrator in his hand, half a meter above the sink. Uncharacteristic tears ran down his face and his hand trembled. The morphine had been his old friend, his standby, for so long. He had been addicted on and off ever since that alien ripped his leg open on Acheron, years ago now. It was the only way he could fight the pain and the nightmares that haunted him. He squeezed the device in his hand angrily and shook with emotion.
The publicity tour had affected him more than he had expected. All those people treating him like a hero. Kids staring at him with awe and getting his autograph. Fresh tears poured down his cheeks as the thoughts welled up again. They didn’t know who he really was, what he really was. They didn’t know he was shit, worthless shit, human trash. He squeezed his eyes shut and allowed the anger and unhappiness to wash over him. Danny was done with it! He smashed the morphine administrator in the sink and watched the precious fluid run down the drain. He saw a droplet of red and looked at his hand, bleeding from a glass cut.
“Danny? Are you okay?” asked a feminine voice behind him. He inhaled sharply and tried to master his features. Opening his eyes, he saw the concerned face of his girl standing behind him and looking at him in the mirror. “Jessie… I’m fine. I just cut my hand,” he lied, but it couldn’t be more obvious. His face was red and tear streaked. She came up behind him and hugged him, looking down into the sink. “You broke it?” she asked calmly but compassionately. “Yes, I broke it. I’m done with it!” he replied forcefully. He meant it, too.
He was as pleased as anyone else to hear the news about the furlough and the publicity tour. Just the thought of running wild in town was enough to get him really amped. Beers, bourbons, cigars, and girls, he was going to live it up. “Hey, what do I always tell you people?!” he asked loudly of the tables of Marines. “In the Marine Corps, every meal’s a banquet!” He paraphrased the popular slogan to the sound of groans from the people around him. “No, seriously though. I want every one of you to live it up and enjoy yourselves while you have the chance. That’s an order!”
<Tag Everyone>
A Marine had to live from day to day in Sykes’ estimation. He was always pulled from place to place with no control over his destiny, and every day he went to work could be his last. That’s why as soon as the banquet was done, he called up a girl he knew in Denver. He wasn’t going to miss the publicity tour, but he had a week until then.
November 21st, 2189
Sykes stared at the morphine administrator in his hand, half a meter above the sink. Uncharacteristic tears ran down his face and his hand trembled. The morphine had been his old friend, his standby, for so long. He had been addicted on and off ever since that alien ripped his leg open on Acheron, years ago now. It was the only way he could fight the pain and the nightmares that haunted him. He squeezed the device in his hand angrily and shook with emotion.
The publicity tour had affected him more than he had expected. All those people treating him like a hero. Kids staring at him with awe and getting his autograph. Fresh tears poured down his cheeks as the thoughts welled up again. They didn’t know who he really was, what he really was. They didn’t know he was shit, worthless shit, human trash. He squeezed his eyes shut and allowed the anger and unhappiness to wash over him. Danny was done with it! He smashed the morphine administrator in the sink and watched the precious fluid run down the drain. He saw a droplet of red and looked at his hand, bleeding from a glass cut.
“Danny? Are you okay?” asked a feminine voice behind him. He inhaled sharply and tried to master his features. Opening his eyes, he saw the concerned face of his girl standing behind him and looking at him in the mirror. “Jessie… I’m fine. I just cut my hand,” he lied, but it couldn’t be more obvious. His face was red and tear streaked. She came up behind him and hugged him, looking down into the sink. “You broke it?” she asked calmly but compassionately. “Yes, I broke it. I’m done with it!” he replied forcefully. He meant it, too.
![Image](https://i.imgur.com/miTMpGZ.png)
USCM Special Forces Recon Team
Serial Number: D26/TQ6.3.48412E9
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Re: Turn 20: Rewards
The return to Gateway was feeling more and more routine each time, and the general excitement of finally being so close to Earth was fading. Morse had been going out into the black and back for over a decade, much of it being spent in Cryo. People he knew were aging faster then he was, but his body was riddled with far more stress then most. A rush of psych evaluations and clinical visits were what awaited before actually being released for any period of time, and even then the time wasn't really yours. It was dedicated to the missions of the past and the missions of the future, at least in a marine like Morse's head. He couldn't stop it, and he opted out of medications that would help. He was starting to just go through motions, and lose touch with most around him in what was the real world. It was to no fault of his own, but trauma without a support system tended to linger and wallow in itself, and Morse was running low on family or friends beyond those that wore uniforms like his own.
He recognized the early signs of this change occurring in Henniger when he was approached. Morse did not really know what to say for it, realizing his own path had not been the healthiest. It was hard to grasp ones place in the universe when you were just a number, fighting an endless mission on worlds most never heard of, that seemed to accomplish nothing. He imagined most people felt that way, but the sheer lack of creature comforts and the threat of imminent death was what kept an invisible barrier between the USCM and everyone else. Corporate types didn't understand them, civilians didn't understand them, and the veterans, while understanding it, had no proper words to describe it. That was about all Morse could tell him about coping with it. He hated the idea of it, but the USCM was the only real world that were suited for, and he could no longer comprehend a life outside of it... if one could even exist.
When asked Morse elaborated what he'd seen in their years encountering the ever increasing threat that was those monsters. He knew they came in many varieties, with the similar traits of secondary mouths, razor sharp claws and teeth, hard exoskeletons, supernatural strength, and acid for blood. They ate peoples faces as larvae, put a second stage in the chest of a victim, and grew to a third stage that was the most unnatural killing machine in the universe. He did not know where they came from, he did not know why they were spreading, but they were spreading. Corporates were studying them, Colonial terrorists were trying to use them as bio weapons, and then there was just random plagues appearing all over the galaxy with no cause. He suspected even Weyland-Yutani and perhaps the U.A were also studying them, and that they were being handed missions to clean up their mess under a different guise. It was clear that the situation was getting worse, but going public would only accelerate what might be a cancer in the universe that had no real cure.
Morse went on the publicity tour… at least half of it. Half way through the first leg, Morse had got himself talking. Not about classified information, more about their purpose. He was babbling out many questions that all started with why… and this was not slowed down when alcohol was involved. All the questions were rhetorical, but revealed a deep seeded hatred of what they did and an inability to come to terms with why he continued. He was politely asked to go back to seeing the therapists for another ‘random health and welfare check.’
Morse was what he was, and was good at a few things, and that had its uses. To who and for what he may never know, but he wasted the last time of freedom breathing the filthy air of Earth he loved so much, mucking around in dirt, and finding bars in alleys that he could hear other peoples ramblings for once and return the favor as long as the place was still open.
He recognized the early signs of this change occurring in Henniger when he was approached. Morse did not really know what to say for it, realizing his own path had not been the healthiest. It was hard to grasp ones place in the universe when you were just a number, fighting an endless mission on worlds most never heard of, that seemed to accomplish nothing. He imagined most people felt that way, but the sheer lack of creature comforts and the threat of imminent death was what kept an invisible barrier between the USCM and everyone else. Corporate types didn't understand them, civilians didn't understand them, and the veterans, while understanding it, had no proper words to describe it. That was about all Morse could tell him about coping with it. He hated the idea of it, but the USCM was the only real world that were suited for, and he could no longer comprehend a life outside of it... if one could even exist.
When asked Morse elaborated what he'd seen in their years encountering the ever increasing threat that was those monsters. He knew they came in many varieties, with the similar traits of secondary mouths, razor sharp claws and teeth, hard exoskeletons, supernatural strength, and acid for blood. They ate peoples faces as larvae, put a second stage in the chest of a victim, and grew to a third stage that was the most unnatural killing machine in the universe. He did not know where they came from, he did not know why they were spreading, but they were spreading. Corporates were studying them, Colonial terrorists were trying to use them as bio weapons, and then there was just random plagues appearing all over the galaxy with no cause. He suspected even Weyland-Yutani and perhaps the U.A were also studying them, and that they were being handed missions to clean up their mess under a different guise. It was clear that the situation was getting worse, but going public would only accelerate what might be a cancer in the universe that had no real cure.
Morse went on the publicity tour… at least half of it. Half way through the first leg, Morse had got himself talking. Not about classified information, more about their purpose. He was babbling out many questions that all started with why… and this was not slowed down when alcohol was involved. All the questions were rhetorical, but revealed a deep seeded hatred of what they did and an inability to come to terms with why he continued. He was politely asked to go back to seeing the therapists for another ‘random health and welfare check.’
Morse was what he was, and was good at a few things, and that had its uses. To who and for what he may never know, but he wasted the last time of freedom breathing the filthy air of Earth he loved so much, mucking around in dirt, and finding bars in alleys that he could hear other peoples ramblings for once and return the favor as long as the place was still open.
![Image](https://i.imgur.com/rZIX9P2.png)
-3rd Bn, 2nd Reg, 1st Co, 8th Plt
- DEVIL DAWG
- M41A Pulse Rifle - M4 Pistol - Med Kit
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Re: Turn 20: Rewards
"Dizzy" remained aboard during the return to Earth and sat in the wings at the awards ceremony. The Marine combat rescue pilot hadn't shared in the trials of fire the Devil Dawgs had weathered but he felt a bond nonetheless. He had just saved over a hundred civilians and the Marines and he just couldn't shake the feeling his business with the Devil Dawgs wasn't over. He filed his transfer with Captain Tucker to be attached to the Devil Dawgs as the Regiment's combat pilot.
He sought out Sykes's early on into the Marines' furlough and left a comm message to the Devil Dawgs CO.
[I know we didn't get the best timing to talk at length but you and your boys left their mark on my heart that day. I hadn't put any thought to who I was going back for again and again to lift as many survivors off Gaia as my bird could. Something in my gut told me to try for one last run despite my fuel tanks being close the bingo. I'm damn proud I took the risk and I watched your Marines make their stand and that was the final piece to a puzzle I have been struggling with. I had to make sure my brothers got out of there and it was a pleasure burning the remaining ammo I had left to grease those nightmares. I filed my transfer weeks ago and fingers crossed we will meet again. 'Crazyhorse' actual signing off.]
"Dizzy" ended the recording and shut down the terminal in his quarters ground side. He had chosen to enlist in combat flight school to polish his skills in hotzone rescue/evac and train into a more front line heavy combat pilot. The Devil Dawgs would be needing a ferrymen and he felt he was right for the job.
He sought out Sykes's early on into the Marines' furlough and left a comm message to the Devil Dawgs CO.
[I know we didn't get the best timing to talk at length but you and your boys left their mark on my heart that day. I hadn't put any thought to who I was going back for again and again to lift as many survivors off Gaia as my bird could. Something in my gut told me to try for one last run despite my fuel tanks being close the bingo. I'm damn proud I took the risk and I watched your Marines make their stand and that was the final piece to a puzzle I have been struggling with. I had to make sure my brothers got out of there and it was a pleasure burning the remaining ammo I had left to grease those nightmares. I filed my transfer weeks ago and fingers crossed we will meet again. 'Crazyhorse' actual signing off.]
"Dizzy" ended the recording and shut down the terminal in his quarters ground side. He had chosen to enlist in combat flight school to polish his skills in hotzone rescue/evac and train into a more front line heavy combat pilot. The Devil Dawgs would be needing a ferrymen and he felt he was right for the job.
Combat Equipment:
- Sniper Rifle (2 clips)
- Pulse Rifle (2 clips)
- M4A4 .45 ACP (2 clips)
- 8 Granades
- Demo kit
- KBAR Knife
Non-Combat Equipment
- Framepack
(20 days rations, Entrentching Tool, Mess Kit, 2 Demo kit)
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