RP [8556th] Chapter Two - The Fight for Objective Grigori

Arieg

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#1
Landing Area Fyodor, Space Port 18
Planet Santa-Torga Prime
108 Hours Into Operation Argent Saber


The Command or 'God' Track sat in an open courtyard surrounded by all manner of support vehicles, supplies, parts, and other logitical mess that continued to be managed by a myriad of personnel and support robots. Such is the life in the rear of a now substantial ground army thats on the move. Standing in the vehicle's dropped rear door was on the only figure not frantically waving about or extremely concentrated on the goings on of the digital display table in the interior of the command track. Average in height and of weathed greying looks, he wore the desert battle dress variant of the light armored exosuit with various digital tans, greys, and browns. Unlike those surrounding him however he wore the three pyramids of a Marine Command General, his old slate grey eyes stared out across the open expanse to the west beyond the broken far wall of the courtyard. The alien star of this world was just beginning to peek over the mountains far off in the distance, some small piece of intel at the back of his mind reminding him this world rotated against its orbit. He watched the sunrise for a few moments longer before returning to the milder chaos of the command track's interior. Most of the predawn darkness had been spent organizing the chase forces into something more coherent along the defensive lines of their next targeted settlement, designated Objective Grigori. As he stepped closer to the table his DNI or direct neural interface, wirelessly linked to it, bringing up a much larger augmented reality layout of the situation playing out across several thousand kilometers of ground.

So far the effort which had been given the name 'Operation Argent Saber' had been wholely on his end of the effort, their landings coming down hard enough and fast enough that most of the estimated ten thousand defenders had simply routed across the northern desert toward the next town. The first objective, a collection of sandstone and mud brick dwellings wrapped around a large flat expanse that passed for a light spaceport had been a practical walk in. Of course intel hadn't reported many in the way of the alien creatures and thus mostly the occupiers here had been the pirates and mercenaries, trash in the face of a professional military force. The next one however... his mind brought up a satellite image of a armored floating creature among a throng of humanoid shapes. Pushing it away with his mind he returned to the task at hand, his mental picture reaching out for force compositions as he pulled a coffee can from a dispensor on the wall. Almost shuddering as the caffine rushed into nerves that hadn't rested in seventy two hours, of course he chided himself somewhat.... some of the men on vehicles or marching across the sand hadn't slept in twice that.

Nearly three divsions or thirty thousand men and their associated mix of armor and support vehicles sat inside the rapidly growing peremeter of the small space port. Another five, all Colonial Pact Marine mechanized units which had been initially landed in the first assault where out in the north. Originally chasing the retreating forces and forcing contact where they could with the smaller formations, some had been slowed by last stands on various ridges and hilltops by sacrifical holding units. It had allowed an estimated half of the defenders from the space port to reach the lines of Objective Grigori, something the General hadn't wanted but alas war was war. Now he had them formed up, rallying and organizing into stepping off points for a full scale assault on the southern peremter of Grigori... the question was when would be the time to begin.

8556th Pact Marine Mechanized Division - Mustering Area 20 Km South of Objective Grigori
Planet Santa-Torga Prime
108 Hours Into Operation Argent Saber


Major Petrovik sat on a supply crate in a sea of the damn things, near him the crew of a light dropship, all two of them, continued to crawl over their craft checking for signs of damage or issue. He'd ordered them to do it twice, they where his ride into town after all. He was still in his Kortik, although he had already spent the time and effort to fix the dings, dents, and lack of armaments on it after his impromptu dive from altitude. He'd sent the Corporal off to do the same while he sat, eating for the first time in two days and waited for the replacements he'd put in for. His eyes looked out across the mass of armor, supplies, and men running around preparing, checking, and arming their tools of war. After being picked up it hadn't taken them long to find their way back into the fighting, a general near the head of one of the armored formations having flown them and a bunch of other air cav units in behind a hilltop not even ten kilometers away. They'd taken it... with losses... as the strange dusky skinned female humanoids fought to nearly a man. Shaking his head of those thoughts, he finished the last of the ration and stowed the trash in an empty open top crate someone and setup for just a purpose before pulling a cigar from the chest pocket. A moment later it was lit and he let the calming nicotine flow into his system as he watched and waited to see what would hopefully be a replacement squad.... as he tried to bury the memories of the first one...

OOC: To those just joining the plot I just need you to effectively walk up, annouce yourself, salute, and give a general paragraph of who and what you are and what sort of equipment you have onboard. The links to the pages to pull from are below just bare in mind some of these are still in image only. As far as where you might come from your probably a colonial pact marine either part of the 8556th or a replacement drawn up, if you have any questions you can tag me on site chat, PM me, or give me a poke in discord and I'll answer them the best I can!
 

HarperMadi

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#2
A tall, thin woman of core system birth stepped forward, her back straight as her red-brown curls bounced across her back, tightly held against her ponytail. Her body was covered by a skin tight power armor sensor suit, with standard issue black BDUs hanging off her hips and an ancient ultrahard ceramic broadsword clattering against her hip. Her Pact Marine Corps jacket shifted across her shoulders as a crisp knife hand was brought up to her forehead in a sharp salute as she called out, "Sir! Specialist Andrake, anti-armor and heavy weapons. My armor's en route to the field station now. I trust it will be an honor to work with you."

Her attitude, though crisp and professional, was honed by many years as a Colonial Marine, and though she was technically out of uniform, she was visibly not the type to disobey a direct order, or fail to take an opportunity when one presented itself. One could see the well defined muscles moving under the sensor web, and though the figure was dainty, she carried the air of one highly trained in shield and rifle combat. And one who was either working on her armor or training in downtime, rather than something she felt was foolish, such as drinking or wasting time. Her record would show exemplary performance, though a few minor family issues and bitterness about injuries sustained early in her career, but nothing interesting besides the stubbornness of a born officer and a passion for learning the technical details of anything she was likely to go up against, if only to find the best way to render it nonfunctional.

OOC: Spc Andrake CS
 
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HAMnJAM

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A tired, yet weathered Marine stepped from behind a crate, stuffing a harmonica into a pocket and fixing his cover. He was dressed in the BDU of the day bearing the insignia of the Marine Corps. His service rifle was danging about his waist, pointing up, on it's sling on his left shoulder. Despite his somewhat young appearance, the rank of Sergeant bore weight on his BDU as well as his cover on his head. He looked somewhat clean-shaven, the beginning of a five-o'-clock shadow trying to make an appearance as he began walking towards the Armor-clad Major his Implants were telling him was now his superior.

He had his left hand tucked in his rifle sling and his right hand not bothering to move as he spoke with the weather of someone long in service. "Sergeant Andrei Morozov, reporting. I got shit around here somewhere from my last outfit, somewhat dinged though. By the looks of your piece, looks like you didn't fair better than we did Major."

His expression was rather blank, though his posture and the way his eyes were locked with the Major's showed the respect the Sergeant had for him. For a veteran, he wasn't saluting because of the threat of snipers wanting to take down officers. Though to a greenhorn, he might look like the cockiest son of a bitch this side of the Colonies.
 
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Immortal Cyan

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8556th Pact Marine Mechanized Division - Mustering Area 20 Km South of Objective Grigori
Planet Santa-Torga Prime


Vianne's introduction to Santa-Torga Prime had been unceremonious, spontaneous, and, grim. In spite of her extensive and intensive training, the Kalmarian space-borne marine still felt ill at ease planetside. The constant sandstorms only worsened her anxiety and apprehension. As a result, Vianne felt just as tense and disquieted since her crash landing in the desert with half of her weapons lost to the wind.

She had just finished rearming, repairing, and cleaning her Kortik power armor. Although the armor had taken little in the way of damage, she had needed to almost completely restock her ammunition and ordnance supplies. The routine had cleared her anxiety, but only for a brief moment. Taking a glance at her surroundings, Vianne frowned when she realized how ill-suited the environment was for what she needed.

Her religion was celestial in nature and practice. If planetside, prayer was best done before a clear night sky. In space, one was by default closer to the stars. Therefore, prayer was only a matter of timing. At present, she was surrounded by nothing but sandstorms and soldiers. Taking up her sidearm for protection, Vianne walked to the outskirts of the mustering area, doing her best to avoid eye contact with the other soldiers in the camp.

Salvation came in the form of an expansive clearing at the outskirts of the camp. For once, she thought it was peaceful in a way, the sand blowing gently into the wind and making a noise that concealed the background sounds of chatter, engines, and activity.

Vianne knelt in the sand, her back facing the wind as she closed her eyes, bowed her head, and began to say a prayer to the stars. She prayed for Audrey Weaver, for her health, happiness and strength. She did the same for the Major and the rest of the soldiers in her division. Finally, she prayed for herself, for continued vitality, prosperity, and enlightenment.

Although the prayer was shorter and less intensive than what she normally did, like an oasis in the desert, the prayer relieved and quenched her anxiety. As she opened her eyes, Vianne felt her muscles spontaneously relax beneath her skin.

Clad in nothing else but her skinsuit, Vianne returned to the mustering area and began the process of entering her armor. She stepped into the legs of her armor before pulling down the upper section and placing her arms into the slots. The soft interior of the armor and her full ammunition stocks further relieved her apprehension.

The weight of her monstrous rail rifle felt comfortable in her hands. With the rest of her kit already attached to her armor, Vianne walked towards the mess of supply crates where her DNI had marked the location of the Major. After approaching her CO from the front, Vianne gave a quick field salute before speaking.

"Corporal Vianne Weaver, reporting.", she said calmly.
 
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Ethereal

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A soldier came towards the group with a rather unusual gait, a cigarette glowing in his lips as he did. It was if he glided across the sun-beaten earth, each step strangely deliberate as if there was some strange pattern to his walk. Funnily enough, along with the rifle slung across his back and pistol firmly at the hip, this newcomer was twirling a bonesaw around one finger.

Coming closer, his shock of messy crimson hair was obvious, along with his strange red leather jacket he wore over his uniform. A sort of tune came from his mouth, he wasn't whistling was he. He was.. A merry tune, in fact. With his free hand, the soldier brushed his hair generally to one side, keeping it free from his eyes as he drew closer.

Finally, he paused in his gait before the others, saluting the Major briskly as he ceased whistling, a small halo of smoke forming around him from the cigarette. "Corporal Gallimore present, sir."
 
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Arieg

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The older man seemed to regard the three newcomers with a judgmental eye, his gaze never really changing in shape or expression as he looked each of them up and down. His teeth gritting slightly as he moved between them, before finally settling on the Sergeant and nodding, "Sorry to call you over here Morozov but command wants your somewhere else." He said before transmitting the updated orders sheet to the man's personal HUD. The Sergeant almost grunted in annoyance before turning and walking off toward the CP, throwing a hand over his shoulder. A moment later the Major turned back to the three remaining persons standing before him. "I want all three of you to get into Kortiks and pick up these loadouts," He said as the same action repeated itself, windows appearing in their vision as the command circuit of the DNIs or Direct Neural Interfaces received the Major's inventory sets.

It listed the Kortik power armor with a primary weapon of their choice with the one complication that it be at least exo-suit grade, the secondary was a mandatory plasma rifle with an underslung GL or plasma projector. Their shoulder and hip hardpoints where to be loaded with 6 and 8 shot 42mm missile launchers for a total of 22 micro-missiles. But what would probabaly raise eyes was the need for at least one shoulder flexi-point to be occupied with a three shot Molok missile launcher. Heavy ordinance for what they would all thing was a assault on the town.

"Everyone get your gear and get any shit you need to get done before we step off, be back here in five mikes, acknowledged?" He asked, pinning them with that hard stare most senior officer's in the Pact Marines developed after several decades of service.
 

HarperMadi

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#7
"My kind of party, sir." Mike dropped her stance with a grin. She turned on her heel and broke into a run for the motorpool, where her Kortik was parked.

As she moved, she transmitted an order for the loadout, requesting an armor piercing heavy railgun for the shoulder point and an electromagnetic disruption rifle for her primary weapon. Along side that, she requested a secondary set of maneuvering thrusters, jumping into her suit's cockpit at the three minute mark. A heavy clunk from behind her signalled the finishing of her loadout and she smiled, synchronizing her standard issue implants with the suit and booting up.

"Damnit, they scratched off my kill count! All my nice paint work's missing!"
 
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Immortal Cyan

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Vianne dropped her stance and silently turned away from the major to attach the final pieces of her kit. Along with the big rail rifle, Vianne was taking a plasma rifle with an underslung plasma projector, 6 and 6 shot 42mm missile launchers, and a Molok missile launcher.

After equipping her gear, Vianne returned to the major promptly and efficiently.
 

Ethereal

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Felix brushed his hair a little, taking a long drag on his cigarette before throwing it down and grinding it into the dirt with his foot. "You got it boss." The surgeon nodded, a little smile creeping onto his face. He almost strolled to the his Kortik, only reaching it as the others were already armed. His setup included a shotgun of some description as the most notable feature as the slim crimson-haired medic slipped into his PA, closing it just as the 5 minute mark ticked over, almost to the second.
 
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HAMnJAM

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Morozov eventually came back, dressed to the nines in his own Kortik with a dull-white '8-BALL' emblazoned on the chest piece above his rank marker. His weapon was still resting on its strap in front of him, though his right hand stayed ready on the grip with his finger on the body of the gun. He looked to the Major and waved a datastick out like a flare.

"Major, think fast!"

He then lugged the datastick out towards him.
 

Arieg

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The Major hadn't moved from his perch even as they all filed in within the same ten second stretch, those unforgiving eyes looking each one of them up and down. They weren't at a full replacement level but this half strength recon squad would have to do, command got what commanded wanted after all. The last piece of data needed for just want the group of higher ups wanted came sailing in from the sergeant, the Major's hand moving inhumanly fast to snatch the object out of the air before giving the sergeant a look that could melt lead in a mere moment.

"Do you throw shit at all your officers or am I special Sergeant?" He asked, knowing the response would be gruff and moving to cut it off. Sergeants where sergeants for a reason and knew what they could get away with. Stepping up and off the crate he moved and motioned them all to take up a half circle around him as he plugged the stick into his Kortik's wrist mounted computer, waiting those few seconds for the crypto to line up and unlock the data. A moment later the streams of information began flowing through their squad level datanet and each Marine's augmented reality visual implant began showing aerial recon data that wasn't available on the common B-net. It showed a town of mostly mud brick buildings and a few metal structures marked as hostile strong points spread evenly throughout. Thousands of small red dots of varying scales representing moving living objects swarmed throughout the image, a large number where concentrated on the settlement's southern rim. Others seemed to be moving toward the northern end of town on larger blotches... vehicles.

"This is Objective Grigori, it'll be one hell of a fight but it ain't ours." The Major said gruffly, almost annoyed as the image shifted, moving just north east of town. The blue-white AR hologram showing another sandy valley with a hardened surface running up its middle off into the distance. "Command wants us and a few other units to setup and ambush and coordinate with air to make sure nothing gets out of town with a free ride. Hope you all paid attention during your anti-armor cert classes." The Major's words punctuating a myriad of mechanical noises and the whines of electric turbines starting up. The movement around them starting to pick up in tempo. "Any questions?" He finished.
 
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HarperMadi

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#12
A push of Mike's thoughts recorded the breifing for later review, if she got bored or if she managed to get lost. Though she paid attention, her attentions were more actively focused on her Kortik's diagnostic readouts, making sure everything was perfect before the mission. Satisfied, she returned her attention to the images floating across the inside of her faceplate. "I got none, sir. Fliers become gliders and trucks become rollers. Tanks and mecha become hulls. Another day at the office, sir."

With that last comment, her main weapon gave a thump and a growing hum as the onboard computer initialized and tested the system.
 
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HAMnJAM

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Andrei shook his head, "No, no questions. You just give me orders and I'll bark out my own to supplement." He checked his rifle before sighing to himself for some idle reason. His readout went through a checklist as he made interior notes on his implants as well as making a few marks on a minimap for points of interest.

"Let's roll."
 
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Immortal Cyan

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#14
Vianne processed and absorbed the information with efficiency, relying on human intuition and the calculations of her implants to draw conclusions regarding the objective from the quick briefing. Her eyes danced back and forth as the information feed streamed across her augmented reality display. When she was done reading and processing the data, Vianne let out an inaudible sigh and opened her mouth to speak.

"How closely will we be working with air support? Will we be utilizing aerial firepower to take care of the hostile armor assets?"
 

Ethereal

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"No questions." the crimson man nodded, slinging his shotgun over one shoulder. The shoulder of his armor was emblazoned with a red cross and had satchels full of supplies strapped on various places. "Go in, kill things, get out. Simple enough." Felix's eyes swept to the others he'd be fighting with - they all seemed capable people.
 

Arieg

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Behind the Major over a large cleared section designated as an LZ for smaller transports a solitary dropship slowly faded in for a landing, the Ghoul's lifting thrusters flaring into bright heat as sand was kicked up from below. Its frame bristled with armaments, the most noticeable to the ground team being the trio of twin 30 mm plasma cannon mounts that seemed to move and track with a mind of their own. Its stub wings hung heavy with rockets and anti-tank missiles. As soon as it reached less then three meters it rotated longways toward the squad revealing the open side troop doors, each with an exo-suit equipped gunner manning a fixed tri-barreled plasma cannon. Their optic covered helmets looking at the squad with an insectoid manner as the crew chief waved toward the Major. Petrovik turned and nodded, shuffling off the crate pulling on his helmet and syncing the squad to his personal command net. Data flowed as each squad member soon found themselves in a somewhat customized HUD, each with a name and rank bar hovering in their augmented reality. Status's from ammunition count, to suit integrity, to the health of the operators hung in the air before them.

"Well the waiting games over gents!" Petrovik roared before turning and running toward the waiting transport, his heavier then normal Kortik armor digging into the sand as he ran. Of course he wasn't the only one....

All around the squad the mighty logistical snake that had coiled itself for the last several hours slowly began to unwind and move into its striking posture. All of that built up energy, manpower, and firepower was stiring into action all around them and over them. Even as they watched the air began to vibrate... and then their bones... their displays flagging and identifying a low flying destroyer easing into position over the ground forces.
 
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HAMnJAM

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Andrei said something but was drowned out by the roar of the engines. As he ran towards the awaiting chariot of battle, he ran through a final check of his gear and weapons before looking to some of the lowers and checking theirs as they went in. To be honest, he didn't know completely if he was acting as the Major's second or as his own. It didn't bother him too much though, all drops were the same except when shit hit the fan. Then they just got exciting.

As he stepped onboard after the Major, he looked towards him and give a thumbs up to signal he was ready and able.
 
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Ethereal

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"Let's get going, shall we?" Felix stated in a nonchalant tone as he paced towards the noisy craft with that same manner as if a thin invisible barrier was protecting him. It was as if he was simply boarding a plane than flying into combat as he hopped aboard, shotgun over his shoulder.
 

Arieg

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The Major watched as they all ran toward the sitting transport, its gunners anxiously glancing around the outside not liking the idea of sitting still this close to possible hostile fire. He was next to the opened hatch as they each arrived one by one, tapping them on the back as they shuffled into the cramp confines of the aerospace dropship. Against the backwall of the interior where jumpseats all configured to accept a powerarmor with a backpack unit, comfort of course was secondary but in the end sitting down in an armored suit never helps matters. As they all secured themselves he to stepped in, however he took a hand hold near the open right hatch, clipping himself to a safety line as the dropship roared back into the air. Both gunners tracking anything that moved beyond the two sliding hatches. In the top of his HUD the timer for their landing slowly ticked off as the local battlenet continued to feed BLUE force and RED force tracking information, relevant icons floating through his view as units outside moved and went about their particular end of the massive operation around them.

For a moment he looked back, watching the four helmeted heads that stared about, at him, at the bulkhead, he didn't know what was going through their heads but he knew what was going through his. The three slots in his squad that had been emptied through one bout of bad luck. The information for the three replacements slowly scrolled across his visual field, he didn't like the short end of the straw he'd been handed but alas... command wanted usable units and the leftovers from the first day had been pieced back together the Major's being one of many. Still that didn't sit well with the sixty year old Helshen, briefly stomping his feet against the decking as if the quash the random anger boiling up at what had effectively been a lucky shot.

Of course these thoughts where tossed aside as something flashed into his augmentation's communications hub, flash high priority traffic earmarked for them. As the encryption was decyphered and the contents streamed across his awareness his eyes widened, his body visibly stiffening. They wanted them to what?

Tapping the side of his helmet, something the rest of the squad could see, he opened a channel straight to the pilot. The results of the brief conversation, one that got a headshake from the helmeted figure in the cockpit forward of the main dropship section, was the dropship turning north. Three others in the formation earmarked to cut off a possible enemy routing also did the same.... they where heading for the city.

Next he opened the squad's network, "Change of plans people.... we have a SAR mission just in front of the advancing boots on the ground. Looks like a gunship crew went and got themselves shot down over the city. Any of you have an experience in an urban setting?" The question was somewhat retorical, it was part of the year long second stage of Marine training both in atmosphere and in habitats on worlds without a curtain of gasses. "If not... looks like you get to learn fast." The Major finished, his tone grim as he leaned out of the hatch and looked out at the apprroaching outer buildings of the settlement.
 
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