Turn 4: Sappers Under the Walls

[Corporal Hicks]

Master Sergeant Soles took Paulson and Blake with him to retrieve the APC. They moved anxiously through the darkness to where the vehicle was parked. In daylight it had seemed much closer, but moving through pitch darkness with only a couple of shoulder lamps against a creature that didn’t show up on infrared was enough to send chills up their spines.

With the vehicle powered up, Blake at the wheel and Paulson on the gun, they returned to the platoon’s perimeter. Three civilians had been located by their infrared signatures and had joined them. Once everyone was stowed, they gratefully closed the door and set out for the mercenary tents.

The massive wheels of the vehicle tore up dew-coated grass and left deep ruts in the wet ground as it moved down the road. Up ahead, they could see various lights. Three tall spotlights pointed outward from the collection of tents, and half a dozen small flashlights waved back and forth as soldiers watched the perimeter. These men moved aside and waved the APC on into the center of their formation, more than grateful to have such a powerful mounted gun to provide support.

The Marines filed out of the vehicle to join the perimeter, leaving Sergeant Higley to man the gun, and Private Blake in the driver’s seat. Staff Sergeant Wesley walked up to Soles and the almost forgotten Lieutenant Fletcher. A pulse rifle hung loosely in the merc’s hands at waist level, but we swung it up to rest on his shoulder as he talked. “Two of my people are K.I.A. and another six are missing. We have rounded up as many civilians as we could, nearly twenty. We made contact with, well, what I have to assume are these xenomorphs. Hard to make a positive identification when their bodies melt down into the ground. Four of my team are wounded as well, but I have everyone that can stand on their feet pulling perimeter duty. As you can see, we’ve set up another ring of sentry guns to cover this camp, but I don’t understand how they got past the outer perimeter without tripping any of the guns. Anyway, I haven’t dared to send anyone out to look for more survivors in the dark. I think our best hope is to wait for dawn, which is in about an hour and forty minutes. But of course, that’s your call, Sir.”

Both sergeants looked to Lieutenant Fletcher, standing there bleary eyed in the semi-darkness. He blinked a few times, furrowed his brow as if thinking, then shifted uncomfortably. “Right. Thank you, Sergeant. Good work. And you too, Master Sergeant.” He licked his lips, “Well, I think your plan is right, uh, Wesley. We’d better hold here until we have some light to see by. I will need to contact command and tell them about this, this situation. Hold the perimeter for now.” He patted Soles’ shoulder plate and made his way back to the APC comms. “Giosso, help me with comms for a minute, would you?”
<Tag Soles and Giosso>

The next two hours passed without much event. Everyone was on high alert, and they heard a couple of shouts and screams in the distance, but the only xenomorphs that came near them were torn to shreds by the sentry guns before any human could see them. Another dozen civilians trickled into the camp as the time went by, but a large percentage of the town’s population was still missing.

The light of day revealed a scene of destruction, as the first rays of the red sun appeared in the east. Half of the buildings in town were in shambles, with shattered windows, broken down doors, and splashes of blood. The xenomorphs had left no trace of themselves, apart from a few melted holes in the ground and scattered bits of exoskeleton. Staff Sergeant Wesley began to send out teams of his remaining troops to search and clear houses and look for survivors. For now, the Marines of the Devil Dogs were still in the camp.

Lieutenant Fletcher came out of the APC and walked up to Master Sergeant Soles, nodding. “Well, I got some orders for us. We are to secure the town and try to locate the xenomorph nest if possible.”

Staff Sergeant Wesley came up to the small group, which included Quinn, Giosso, and Paulson. “You’ll wanna come see this.” As they followed him into the command tent, he waved to a soldier at a computer screen, and she clicked play on a video. “This is what we picked up on our camera. We enhanced the footage so you can see the xenomorph.”

The Marines clustered around the screen and saw a color-distorted clip of a xenomorph as it violently dragged a woman along the ground. She was thrashing helplessly in its claws, which gripped her body like a vice. As they watched, it crawled up the wall of one of the large factory feedlots where the animals were kept. It entered through an air vent on top of the building and disappeared from sight. “This is what we saw, the camera picked up multiple of them doing this. They all went into that building with the grows.” The Staff Sergeant’s voice was calm enough, but his eyes were unnaturally wide with anxiety.
<Tag Soles, Quinn, Giosso, Paulson, anyone else>

[BarbarianMathematics]

Pvt. Blake’s fingers drummed lightly on the edge of the driver’s seat as she stared out through the viewport. The rising sun barely lit the sky, casting long shadows across the camp. It was still too early for a full-on energy boost, but the early morning quiet had its way of getting to her. She shifted, trying to settle into the stillness.

Her stomach growled, a reminder that she hadn’t eaten since last night and who knows what time it was. Without a second thought, she unlatched her canteen and took a long swig of water, feeling it cool her throat as she leaned back slightly in the seat. "If only we had some of that powdered instant coffee or something. I'm running on nothing but adrenaline," She murmured to herself.

Once she set the canteen down, she listened to the hum of the vehicle, comforting almost. Leaning back in the driver’s seat, she might not have had the luxury of a hot meal, but she’d learned to make do with what was available until they could finally get orders for a proper meal. She returned her attention to the comms console to ensure everything was operational.

There wasn’t much more to do for now, so Ava took another glance out the viewport. Keeping watch, staying alert—those were things she’d been trained to do without needing to be told.

As she checked the APC's systems one more time, Ava's focus sharpened, her hands instinctively running through the actions needed to keep the vehicle ready. Every so often, her mind flicked back to the mission ahead, but for now, she could only wait, watch, and stay prepared.

[Pale Rider]

Soles glanced over at his superior when he absently patted him on his soldier before disappearing into the confines of the APC. Soles had studied old Earth history and remembered how members of the United States military had taken out some of their inept superiors during the Vietnam Conflict.

He didn't even acknowledge the man as he turned to the task at hand. He made certain that his troops were tied into the security feed.

As soon as he saw the feed of the Xenos entering the feed lot he knew what he had to do.

"All right Devil Dogs gear up! We are going on a bug hunt!"

[eyeball]

Paulson watched the recording with the others. the creature had scalled the building with ease even pulling a victim, he wasn't sure he could climb up with a harness on there better be a better whey in.
The big buildings where they kept the grows in hindsight not very well gaurded because of the smell was kind of a weak point they should have covered somehow. "What gasses make the smell so bad? are they leathal to unmasked humans are they flammable ?" Paulson asked subconsciously tapping his flammer.

Paulson needed to find out about the composition of the gas if the grows chambers if it was slightly flammable they would get away with pulse rifles but not his incinerator he would need to change out from the APC.

[Corporal Hicks]

Wesley scratched his head then leaned out of the tent. “Emma, come here a sec!” A middle aged woman entered the tent. Paulson put his question to the farmer and she replied, “Methane, nitrous oxide, carbon dioxide, ammonia. I don’t think it will kill you, but it can cause respiratory illness, and it’s foul as hell to breathe in.”

“Methane is highly flammable,” said Wesley, “Don’t know about that other crap.”

[eyeball]

Paulson sighed methane only needed to be about 5%-10% by volume to ignight, so on one side, it could be a great wat to clear a nest, on the other his flammer would kill every living thing in the room in one go.

Paulson resigned himself to pulse rifle duty and headed out to the APC to get ready to swap, He could be wrong, but if those numbers where above 5% best not risk it unless they wanted a big kaboom.

[Morse]

Ever since the ship touched the ground Morse had been quiet. Not quiet because he had reservations about the mission. Not quiet out of fear of what was to come, or could be lost. Not because he had been reprimanded and told one more instance of unprofessional behavior would result in his being involuntarily separated from the Corps (not that that such things ever happened-the corps was worse than the Corporations when it came to letting people go on their own terms). Morse had a been silent, nodding, saluting, and pointing for a simple reason.

He'd been sick. Hyperspace sickness was getting worse for him. The years of abuse on his system from homebrew alcohol had taken its ultimate toll on his ability to get in the tube and sleep. The drugs worked to knock him out fast enough when he got in the tube, but the wake up was an increasing nightmare.

And Morse knew that something was very wrong, but knew there wasn't much help for it other than just letting it pass... this time just took a lot longer.

The benefit was that it was relieving the inconsistent ache on his robotic leg, or at least he wasn't noticing that as much.

His combat load was fixed tightly, many of the personalized items removed from it. After getting snagged on a rail in an earlier mission due to having a trophy he took on his body armor, the lesson was learned to leave that all in a footlocker.

Age and experience had taught Morse a lot of things, and those lessons were always learned the hard way. So, as he came to be feeling actually mission capable, and not just giving a thumbs up, he made his way towards the edge of the APC, helmet fixed, and an M41A of factory standard ready to rock.

"Maybe the methane'll fuck with the bugs brain'n make it easier to kill."

<Tag Anyone

[Quicksilver]

“Sir.” Giosso responded before he even finished registering the request from the Lieutenant. As he approached the APC he wondered what nature of the request was - something that would require particular discussion and expertise or a simple case of the LT not knowing where the transmit button was. Didn’t matter - He was happy to be in the room with the message now that thing had gone to hell.

He heard Blake behind him as he slid into the other comm-system chair. Reaching into his shirt pocket, he produced a packet of instant espresso passed it off to her. “I never leave the ship without a few dozen.” he confided as he logged in.

[Tag Blake]

Leaving the APC again at the end of the Comms Session, Mark stared over to Quinn to ask about how Heinrich was doing, only to be caught moments later by Wesley.

“That explains how they bypassed the sentry guns. They learned quick - our system only got 22 rounds off before they took another way.”

[Corporal Hicks]

The Devil Dawgs loaded up again in their APC after a rapidly devoured meal of military rations. Staff Sergeant Wesley and a few of his mercs came along to provide additional support and cover their tail. The APC dug deep ruts in the soft soil, but managed to plow its way to the north side of Gnissau and up to the entrance to the second feedlot.

Cameras had revealed that the other four feedlots all appeared normal inside. The huge grows were standing in tiny pens, packed together in miserable conditions, but that was normal here. The cameras for Lot 2 were not functioning. One of the civilians remembered that a fellow farmer had gone to check on the cameras yesterday morning. He had not been seen since then.

The door of the APC slid open with a metallic grinding and then a heavy thump. Marines poured out onto the grass but saw no threats. The front of the feedlot appeared to be made of flimsy metal, painted white. There were no windows, but there was a small metal door in the center of the shorter wall. The longer walls on the sides had larger doors for moving livestock in and out, but these were chained and padlocked shut.
(Actions)

[Pale Rider]

*Soles, watched as the barn came into view. Ironically, the one they needed to infiltrate was also the only one with no camera feeds. Upon further review he also notices that the main doors are closed and locked.

"Marines, form up into your fire teams. Then setup a defensive formation facing the main doors."

Tag Devil Dawgs

"Giosso, I want you to see if you can gain a feed from the cameras. Until you tell me no, we will wait on your feed before we move forward"

Tag Giosso

[Quicksilver]

“On it, Sir.” Giosso said. With a practiced motion, he holstered his shotgun into the scabbard secured to the side of his backpack to free his hands and accessed the small tablet trapped to his forearm. He taped out a few commands, then after a pause, a few more.

“No-Go, Sir.” He said with a tone that indicated he had not expected much different. “No wireless signal off any of these or a master controller. Could be the wires cut, or they lost power. Or they just got turned off. These civilian surveillance models don’t come with a lot of redundancy.”

[BarbarianMathematics]

He heard Blake behind him as he slid into the other comm-system chair. Reaching into his shirt pocket, he produced a packet of instant espresso passed it off to her. “I never leave the ship without a few dozen.” he confided as he logged in.
[Tag Blake]

When she had a chance, Pvt. Blake looks to Giosso with a smile on her face, "Thanks! You're a lifesaver. Best thing to wake you up besides hair of the dog."
<Tag Giosso>
__________

It wasn't until later that she actually got to put it in her canteen, given the other routine they had to do during the morning. She reaches for the canteen hanging from her gear, unscrewing the cap and pouring in a measured amount of instant espresso into the water. It’s not gourmet, but it’ll help keep her head clear. As she swirls the mix, she takes in the scene: no movement, no obvious signs of life. She checks the straps on her shotgun and ensures the VP70 is secure and ready. Though a bit eager to get down some coffee, she listens in to their new destination.

Later on, during their next deployment from the APC, after having parked the vehicle and gotten time to have the drink and wake up, she took a moment to go over her pistol and shotgun. The shotgun was fine with a tiny polish, though the VP70, she got the modified stock attachment out, just in case. Though she took a look at the rounds for the shotgun, tapping a finger against them gently, curious if they'd be breaching the perimeter today. Best she keep a few handy just in case that was today's plan. Heading over into her team, she takes one last quick swig from her canteen before getting into formation.

[Medic Guy]

Kal enjoyed a little grub on the way over to feedlot 2. The large building looked kind of ramshackle in its construction. It sounded about right that the cameras were not working and that they could not be fixed at the moment. Kal looked at the other large buildings to see if any of the others were chained shut.

[Morse]

Morse dropped outta the APC last, boots sinking into the soft ground like the whole damn planet was tryin’ to eat him alive. He adjusted the strap of his Pulse Rifle across his chest, eyes locked on that barn like it owed him somethin’. No camera feed, no movement, no word from the civ that went lookin’.

Didn’t smell right. Didn’t feel right.

"First Squad, line out. Defensive posture facin’ them main doors. Spaced even, rifles up. You see anythin’ twitchin’ out here, you make sure it stops."

He moved up behind the formation, his gait uneven but practiced—compensating for the metal under him without drawin’ attention to it. His tone was level, not barkin’, but firm like stone—like someone who didn’t need volume to be obeyed.

“This whole damn setup stinks. Cameras don’t just die on their own, and farmers don’t forget where home is.”

He looked the length of the barn once, slow and deliberate.

“We ain’t goin’ in cold. Giosso’s workin’ the feed. We don’t move till I say. Not ‘cause I’m feelin’ careful—’cause I’ve seen what happens when we ain’t.”

He paused, breathing in deep through his nose. The air smelled like wet grass and cheap lies.

“Hold the line. Watch the dark. If it ain’t friendly, drop it.”

Tag Devil Dawgs

[BarbarianMathematics]

Nodding to Morse's request, she remembered at the moment to go get the rebreathers out of the APC. "Hold that thought. We'll want our rebreathers if the gases are as bad as they mentioned," Pvt. Blake mentioned before getting the APC open again to get the rebreathers out and closing it up right after.

Making sure to hand out enough for both squads, she distributed them accordingly and made sure to get back into position before getting her own rebreather on and ready. Making sure to get back in stance, she readied her shotgun once more.

<Tag all>