Turn 2

[Pale Rider]

At 0200 the Easy Eights had fallen into Formation within the bowels of the C-9 Skytrain V, a cargo/transport vessel in The Colonial Marine Aerospace Wing. Not as large as the Conestoga Class vessels, it was still a large and formidable ship. The Ground Force units were on the very bottom level of the ship. It consisted of Berthing, an Armory, Mechanical Room, Tech Room, Situation Room, Weight Room, Cryo-Chamber for long flights, gym/training field, and Mess Hall.

The chamber was large enough to house an entire Rifle Platoon. The Easy Eights had a total strength of 25 marines when you counted all the total personnel involved: The Lieutenant, APC Drivers, Cheyenne Crew, and the Squads. Besides the Two Primary Squads the Eights also had two squads led by another of Lieutenant Gruber's Self Picked Sergeants. Sergeant Maighread Forney led the Call Shots and the Anchor Shots. All Four Squads stood ready for Review.

"Attention, Attention. Titans Dreaming is nearing its Port of Call, I repeat we have reached the outer limits of Pluto's Orbit. We will be making drop in three hours. All personnel slated for duty have your gear stowed by 0430."

The intercom went silent as LT. Gruber approached Sergeant Abdovah, "Sergeant, are your squads ready for review?" She asked as she returned his salute.

"Ma'am, yes Ma'am."

"Very well, lead me through the ranks."

The Lieutenant and Sergeant moved to stand before Corporal Hall.

"Corporal Hall, is your squad ready for review?"

<Tag Hall>

[Corporal Hicks]

Roberts stood sharply at attention, as still as a statue. He had shaved after eating. He had cut himself a little with the razor. His hands were shaky, especially after drinking caffeine. Regardless, he looked sharp.

[pants]

Having fallen in with the rest of his squad, Terence tried to look like he was paying attention without falling asleep.

[maxvale76]

Samantha had never been a huge fan of inspections, drills, parades or the like as she really didn't feel like that was a particularly important part of her job; but nonetheless, she had done her best to get herself and her squad in order.

When the new LT came over and asked the question, she stayed at attention and fixing her eyes on an imaginary point in time-honored fashion, she responded in the way she had bee taught. "Yes, ma'am". Internally, she was rolling her eyes and impatiently waiting for this silly ritual to be over with; but externally, she was stock still and perfectly at attention.


<Tag LT>

[MarcusOTerra]

Sal had let muscle memory see him through all the salutes and stances of standing in formation. His brain firmly focused on the planet below, with the occasional segue to Morse's state. The circumstances of his injury had been sudden, violent, quite possibly a consequence of leaked information.

Now as the new LT walked up to Sam and questioned if her squad was ready for inspection, Sal felt his back stand just a bit straighter, his eyes focus a slight further into the far bulkhead, and kept his mouth stapled shut.

[Quicksilver]

Mark knew what he was doing, but yet for some reason inspections alway resulted in an unavoidable case of butterflies in the stomach. Regardless of how confident he was, there was always a part of him that was worried there was something, somewhere that he forgot to do. He tried to clear his mind of it's racing considerations when he heard his squad leader speak. This would be the moment of truth, then it would be over.

[Pale Rider]

As the Lieutenant and Sergeant Abdovah, began their walk through the Ranks of First Squad and alarm sounded off. And a familiar voice came through over the Ships intercoms:

“Attention, this Lt. Colonel McGahee, I need to see Lt. Gruber, Sergeants Abdovah and Forney as well as the Squad Leaders in the Situation Room. Marines this is a Code Red Alert. The base on Pluto is under attack so get your gear stowed and ready to launch as soon as I have had a moment to brief the command staff.”

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Five minutes later and the Easy Eights along with the Lt. Colonel are sitting in the Ready Room.

“Okay, gentlemen and ladies, I am going to be blunt with you on this one. We do not know exactly what the full situation is on the base; however, what I do know is that someone or something has gone rogue and has taken the scientific leaders hostage. So we at least know it is a sentient being. Unfortunately, all of the members of the 29th Platoon are assumed dead at the least they are incapacitated,” McGahee paused for a moment.

“We have limited Intel on this and seeing as you have never been inside the base you will be at a disadvantage to whomever is currently holding the command staff hostage."

“Sir,” Lt. Gruber interrupted McGahee, after Sgt. Abdovah leaned over and whispered something in her ear, “We have a member of the 1st Squad who spent some time on planet several years ago. He may be an asset to the mission.”

Frowning at the interruption McGahee tersely replied, “Lieutenant, I am fully aware of Pvt. Booths prior time spent on this planet. However, that was some time ago and the mines and the fortifications have undergone some changes since then. Now if there are no further interruptions get your platoon loaded into the drop ships and make planet fall, Dismissed!”

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After strapping in their gear the Marines felt the slight rumble as the magnetic clamps were released and then they were falling through spaces towards the surface of Pluto.

“Next Stop, the Halls of Hades,” the Pilot joked!

<Tag Easy Eights>

[Corporal Hicks]

As the Lieutenant and Sergeant Abdovah, began their walk through the Ranks of First Squad and alarm sounded off. And a familiar voice came through over the Ships intercoms:

“Attention, this Lt. Colonel McGahee, I need to see Lt. Gruber, Sergeants Abdovah and Forney as well as the Squad Leaders in the Situation Room. Marines this is a Code Red Alert. The base on Pluto is under attack so get your gear stowed and ready to launch as soon as I have had a moment to brief the command staff.”

Eric Roberts stood stone-still until he heard the words "Code Red Alert", then he looked up toward the sound of the speaker. As the leadership hurried off for a briefing, he went to get his gear stowed. "Let's go, marines," he said to the others and gave Boothe a friendly slap on the back.

Eric jogged to the armory and readied his M56 Smart-gun. He packed three spare batteries in his pocket. He put on his flak jacket and his green baseball cap on backwards. Over this he put the Smart-gun array and his headset. "Check, check," he said, hearing his voice come back through the ear-piece. Finally, he loaded his backpack with the usual gear: canteen, a few rations, flares, and a disassembled Ithaca shotgun. As an afterthought he grabbed a signal flare, like the one that he had used to save them on Ekylprillion. Better to have it and not need it...

He went with the other marines and clambered onto the APC. He stowed his Smart-gun in its holster on the wall and sat down in the seat next to it, closest to the door. "Oo-rah!" he said enthusiastically. They hadn't seen action in many months; hopefully they were still ready!

[Whisky]

Internally Colson grumbled about having to go through the motions of inspection. Since he got out of bootcamp the Easy Eights had been rather lax about protocol, something told me this new LT was about to shake things up. When the alert went up he only felt slightly bad at the feeling of relief of not having to stand to attention anymore.

Although now he was sat in the briefing room and getting a sit rap he almost groaned out loud. "Do they not know who the easy eights are? Us on a hostage rescue?" He thought to himself.

As they loaded up onto APC, thermal gear itching in places no place had right to itch he wasn't in the best of moods.

"Morse, keep an eye on that leg's interface. Last thing we need is you getting frostbite from the prosthetic." he reminded his squad mate. "And no, your homebrew isn't a valid means of keeping you defrosted." he added with a wry smirk.

<Tag Morse

[Dirk Pitt]

As Dirk listened to the briefing his mind raced. An attack on Pulto? That was close to Earth, too close for anyone to risk a strike unless the potential gain was worth the strike that would be sent, fast. As they would dismissed Dirk stood at attention as the Lt. Colonel left the room.

"Pluto, looks like its a cold shower for the lot of us." He grumbled to Sam as they left the room.
<Tag Sam>

Walking quickly to the hanger where the Marines were he thought a moment about what had happened. He had lost a stripe and his position as NCOIC of the eights. All because of a little thing like destroying a prototype Snakefighter the thought wryly. Now that he really cared. He had Second squad back, home. Now was going to be the first time that he only had to worry about his men, strange but ok.

"Ok second, on me. We have a situation on Pluto. Someone has taken the base and hostages are in play. 29th Platoon was on site, but they are assumed to be KIA so this is a combat drop. I want extra rounds for your weapons and scatter rounds for the grenade launchers. A few grenades, but we don't want a breach in the bases walls. Move it people."
<Tag Second squad>

That said Dirk lit a cigarette as he gathered his personal weapons and ammo.

[MarcusOTerra]

Booth felt a sigh of relief leave his lips when the siren rang and when Eric slapped him on the back, he turned and slapped him on the back of his head. In a good natured way, it got the blood flowing and got a person revved the way annoying bells never did.

Once the briefing came in Sal wanted to smile. Someone, someone really stupid, had decided to attack Pluto and stick around. However it was, they couldn't have picked a less valuable chunk of Sol real estate.

He let the grin shine through. If his previous engagements with the Eights were anything to go on, they'd be leaving a multi-megaton parting gift on their way out.

"I finally get to watch this rock burn." He smiled as he loaded up his gear and then turned to the rest of the group.

"Make sure to grab some kind of breather gear, if our shots pop a pipe you don't want to be breathing any industrial grade gas." He grabbed a breather mask like he'd used on the Bug planet, damn he forgot what it was called Euro-deck-a?
<Tag Marines>

--

When the all clear was given, Sal checked his kit and smiled. "I really hope we get to blow this place up," He let himself whisper like a prayer.

[Morse]

They knew nothing about what they were doing. Morse had been with the Eights for years, and nothing had changed at all. He had at this point gotten used to it. Either they were inserting without knowing the enemies position, size, strength, power, or species. Generally speaking they were sent at things without the slightest clue what they were doing.

And while some could assert that it meant that they were the best, and most capable, Morse was not forgetting a simple reality. Most of their missions resulted in tactical failures. Large casualties and a failed operation, that ended in a tactical nuke drop, or a complete area quarantine, which could have been done without sending them in at all.

So to the ice ball of Pluto they were heading. Inside the Sol system, but so far that it might as well have been considered a mid rim colony. Morse had never been there, nor had he had the urge to visit. Sol or not, a colony was a colony, and he had no interest in them whatsoever.

Dirk had ordered them to load up for protracted engagement, and noted that there were hostages. Morse couldn’t help but blink at the typical futility of the situation. ”Hostages?” Morse echoed, moving next to Dirk shaking his head. ”They grabbed the wrong platoon.” Dirk would know as well as Morse did that they were not typical for that sort of thing, but there was nothing to do about it. ”I’m bringin’ the peace-pipe” Morse said, regarding his M5 Rocket Launcher. ”Just in case.”

< Tag Dirk

There was nothing else he could bring along that would be overly helpful. If he was in a situation where he’d run out of Smartgun rounds, or the weapon itself, then they were in more trouble then carrying an SMG for back up would help.

Later during the loading up phase, Colson mentioned his cybernetic leg might give him frostbite. Morse was not entirely sure he was joking, especially with the mention of his drinking. He’d been hearing a lot about his drinking in the last few days, and not all of it positive. But still he opted to treat it like it was a joke.

”Might not be valid, Coleslaw, but neithers’ Dirk’s psyche evals, n’ he’s still good for runnin’ us.” Morse countered with a joke of his own. ”Aint about what’s valid. S’bout what’s good n’ gets the job done.”

< Tag Colson

Still Morse did hate operating in cold environments, and had yet to see how the device that acted as his leg would react to the unfamiliar environment. Only thing he could do was hope for the best.

[maxvale76]

Samantha nodded wryly at Dirk's comment and attended the meeting with the officers and NCOs of the platoon and came out feeling quite worried.

Hostages? A facility on a world where any kind of breach could lead to catastrophic losses? A platoon filled with folks who liked to blast anything that moved with overwhelming automatic fire and/or explosive ordinance? This did NOT seem like it was going to end well.

Samantha gritted her teeth and gathered her squad together and gave them the run-down. At the end she added; "Okay....when we go in; if there's enough space we'll go in 2 by 1 by 1 formation with Boothe, due to your experience here....I'll ask you to join me in taking point; Roberts you're behind us and Mark, you've got the drag. With the possibility of hostages, make DAMN sure you check your targets and watch your background as much as possible. Time to prove the old adage; 'every man a RIFLE-man' and put your shots where they count. Giosso; see if the personnel on this base all have PDTs (Personal Data Transmitters), and if so, there might be a way to utilize that info in Eric's Smartgun sensor. Everybody load up on 'beehive' and 'flash-bang' grenades if they're available...we do NOT want to be punching holes in the facility as it is MIGHTY cold out there on Pluto."

Hall looked her people over; "Everybody good?"

<Tag 1st Squad>

[Corporal Hicks]

Hall looked her people over; "Everybody good?"

Eric nodded. "Yes... Sam" he said hesitantly, almost saying "Yes Ma'am" on accident. He made sure to grab some flash-bangs (if they are available.)
<Tag Sam>

[Whisky]

”Might not be valid, Coleslaw, but neithers’ Dirk’s psyche evals, n’ he’s still good for runnin’ us.” Morse countered with a joke of his own. ”Aint about what’s valid. S’bout what’s good n’ gets the job done.”

< Tag Colson

Still Morse did hate operating in cold environments, and had yet to see how the device that acted as his leg would react to the unfamiliar environment. Only thing he could do was hope for the best.

"True," Colson mused "Still, it's not like anyone in this squad is playing with a full deck these days" he responded, sticking his false teeth out at Morse.

Truth be told he was glad Morse had responded in his normal manner, despite the bigoted beliefs, rough tongue and borderline psychosis Morse was a good squad mate and even better Marine. Colson wasn't sure how badly losing a leg would have effected Morse. He was glad he was still in the same squad though.

"That being said, keep an eye on that leg. I'm medic, not a mechanic and we ain't carrying any spares."

<Tag Morse

"So boss," Colson said getting Dirks attention, "What's the game plan for when we hit the ground?" He hated going in blind, although you think he'd be used to it now. However what he hated worse was not having a clear sense of purpose once the ball started rolling.

<Tag Dirk