RP: NSS Altomir [Mission 1.1] Gathering the Bearings

A weaker man, a less reserved man, would have lost his cool as the warnings being presented grew, and the bulleted list of just exactly what kind of hell was coming at them had grown.

Krystian was just about ready to.

A little over one hundred meters from the platform, and double that from his fellow tunnel sentry, Krystian felt absolutely useless where he was now. The enemy was thundering down from on high and he had been given a post to maintain that seemed about as far from his fellow Marines as he could get without leaving the planet. Well -- not really. It just seemed like it right now. So rising up from his crouch, Krystian kept his Impaler trained down the tunnel (never too careful) as he took a few tenative steps to the rear in order to take cover in another inlet of the wall closer to the actual station. Camouflage still activated, he keyed his radio back to the Marines at the station platform. If orders were sustained, he would stay where he was, but he would quite possibly be one of the most anxious and impatient Marines in the world.

"Admiral De Luca, Private Czarnecki." He began, "Requesting permission to fall back to the station platform."

Bernhard looked back down the stairs, at the two Admirals. From behind his helmet, he pleaded silently to be let loose. Like a dog straining on its collar, Bernhard wanted to either get stuck in or do something. There were, in the words of the Most Brilliant Medic in the Universe, too many idiots around here who didn't know how to do their job. If there was one thing Bernhard could do well, it was doing his job.

He had been in charge of their sector's civilian evacuation on Tange and been wounded for it. He knew how to prosecute the enemies of the Imperium. How many times had he been through the simulations and then the real deal? Bernhard didn't consider himself to be a "veteran" per se but people like Mayhew were. Losing her was worse than losing ten idiots like Mort and Marsh.

Kokuten said:

"Civilians, sir. Mayhew has reported that a Marine is driving a truck with civilians. They are being tailed by three Ripper Power Armors and one Render Heavy-Gunner Frame. The armored NMX squadron seems extremely intent on destroying the vehicle, considering the reported fire and size of armament." reported Saveli to the out-of-the-loop Fleet Admiral.

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"Intent on destroying, private?" Flint Vanderhuge replied, sounding extremely skeptical about the situation. "Son, that truck is going 90 miles an hour, tops. If a Ripper, hell, if a Render wanted that truck gone, it would be gone, plain and simple," the massive ID-SOL shared a bit of wisdom, speaking to the entire group rather than just Saveli as he tightened the straps on his gun belt. "This is a ploy. They're trailing that vehicle and giving chase to those civilians in order to draw more of us out."

"Admiral De Luca, Private Czarnecki." He began, "Requesting permission to fall back to the station platform."

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Violetta, who had been listening intently to Flint Vanderhuge's revelation of the NMX and their foul play, snapped out of her concentration and turned to the privates direction. She seemed at a loss for words, however; Grand Admiral Vanderhuge had taken the floor from her. Prior to him interrupting, she would have continued setting the marines about in order to ambush the small group and rescue the bystanders.

"All marines will hold position and remain in low emission to avoid detection until they pass us by," Flint gave the order, glancing around the room with sharp eyes beneath his thick brow. "We're about to undertake a very important mission to regain the advantage over Bal'Sharok, and the last thing we need is for the NMX to be aware of us."

Thomas listened intently the chatter about the truck and its pursuers as he stared into the darkness of the tunnel, half crouched against the wall, taking his attention away from what he was supposed to be watching; He wasn't sure if his other partner -who had been watching the opposite side- had been doing the same. If anything, the prospect of combat had gotten his blood boiling again.

His first instinct was to leave his post and assist the marines on the surface in any way that he could, but he maintained his position until he was ordered to do otherwise. Flint's orders to hold position did little to lessen it.

"Yes, sir." Thomas replied over the comms, turning his attention back to the tunnel but still listening to the chatter.

Devlin scrunched his face as he pushed away from the wall, tapping his foot in thought before his eyes widened in horror. “But, Admiral, what about Private Mayhew,” he asked, frantically gesturing both arms in the marooned private’s general direction, "She is still on the surface! If the marine in the truck is wearing a suit, and had received the short-range broadcast directing him to the station, he might already be heading here.” He was now bouncing on his heels in a mix of concern and anticipation, with indigestion creeping in as the sudden activity set off the digested MANLY Meat. Devlin was not sure how far the broadcast had reached, but if the driver had caught it, he may expecting a company of men with full armor support, rather than the band of misfits currently holding the rendezvous point.

“If he brings the enemy with him, then Mayhew will be stranded topside, with no backup!” Devlin froze, the flailing ceasing when he realized he spoke after vowing to keep his talk box shut, not ten seconds ago. Oh, well. Maybe they did not notice and I can reset my most sacred vow. But, he hoped they did for Alex’s sake.

It was an order. Stand by. Bernhard was used to those orders but that didn't make them any less palatable.

So he stayed where he was, near the top of the stairs to monitor the situation. Using his external speakers so that no transmission was sent, he raised a question. "How long have the NMX occupied this planet? What are the chances of civilians still being alive?"

On Tange, the 4th Fleet had arrived less than 48 hours after the initial NMX invasion. That, alone, had killed over 60% of the population. Even more had died as they tried to get to the Nepleslian-held evacuation ports. But if the NMX were efficient as they were deadly, then no one should have been alive on the planet's surface. The squids had been in control of Rok'Veru for over a year. His squad briefing hadn't mentioned anything about civilians. Then again, it hadn't been anything like the briefings in 4th Fleet where the Admiral was present. "Are we sure that this isn't a ploy?"

Some part of him wanted to throw up.

He just wanted to take off his helmet, walk off somewhere, and just shiver in the darkest corner available.

Those were people up there!

Yet those damned orders were bearing down on his shoulders. Not that he outwardly showed it. He was far too controlled, even by himself, in the darkness, and the silence of radio discipline. Were none of his fellow Marines would know, he still felt like he couldn't show it. It was equal parts personal strength and boot camp-induced Marine discipline that prevented him from filling his mask with the bile churning at the back of his throat. The worst part of it all was the sudden silence. That radio discipline-inducede silence that left the Marine sentry almost by himself in that tunnel suddenly so far from his fellow Marines. Only the information that their suit sensors relayed to him gave him any idea that those still at the platform were alive right now.

Still hunkered in cover and concealed, Krystian had no choice but to wait, and simply pray that the Creator didn't have a sick sense of humor today.

Alexandra frowned. What were they doing downstairs? Why did she see anyone in the tunnel. If they want to get the squids in crossfire, they will have to move their butts. Alexandra alone would just get herself killed like this. She sure that if that come to it, with snake-skin activated and in low-emission mode, the squids would not noticed them.

"How about those bloody orders?" She asked via comms. "I have squid in my sights. That marine driving is doind his best, but he can't dodge enemy fire forever!" She reported, her voice sounding quite angry.

"S-sir, we're not just going to leave them, are we?" asked Saveli, looking between both Flint and Violetta, his accent become unusually thick there. The Iromakuanhe's mono-eye shifted side to side, looking at the firm-stanced woman, and the steely Fleet Admiral. He was in no position to question orders, as he was much the lowest rank of possible entry-level soldiers. Yet, something about those orders did not sit well with him. "Ruh help us."

This man, this Vanderhuge, was very much like Mu'Klamal. Where as the ancient Makuori general sheathed his form in fearsome armor, Flint nearly left himself exposed. Yet he believed that the Vanderhuge would wear armor for the same reasons Mu'Klamal did, to put fear in the hearts of the enemy.

The general fought in close quarters, sometimes bare-handed when he had become deficit of weapons, tearing and ripping with his claws. Flint's massive hands were claws of their own right, gripping and manipulating force he had only expected to see from Power Armor. They both beheld a stoic nature that the Book of Dreams reported was 'as calming as it was unsettling'.

That comfortable nature with the battlefield is what set some Iromakuanhe aside from others. Saveli ha been born into misfortune, forced in the risky surveying business, in which pirates and the unknown were out to kill him. Yet, there was always that hesitation, a prioritization that was of the life first. He never found it easy to put the mission first when things became grim. Perhaps this is what Flint, and Violetta understood, the meaning of war.

Mu'Klamal had been renowned for this, with an almost clairvoyant ability to read the outcomes of battle. They say that before every major battle, his finest wine went to the units he knew were going to die.

"Sir. If it's not too much, I could draw them off, misdirect them. We could... could preserve our stealth, while at the same time ensuring the safety of the civilians."

As the truck sped up through the turn, kicking up more dirt and gravel in the process, the marine driving it shifted his gear down so as not to flip the vehicle over. Still, the rear shuddered and tilted some, tossing those in the back around.

The Marine shouted forward, loud enough to be heard over the rumble of the engine. He dared not take his eyes off the road.

"Hold on! Stay down!"

"And we have two enemy armors. Sitting there, not being put to good use." Yuriko had to nod her head toward what remained of the Mindy suits. "Why not use those suits to our advantage. Monitor enemy radio traffic with their equipment provided it is stripped of any locator beacons. Better yet, put those suits to work and throw the Squids a damn curve ball."

As a handful of the marines began voicing differing opinions, Flint lifted the visor of his helmet and gave the room a cold, analytical stare. There was nary a readable emotion on the giant ID-SOL's expression; here merely watching them all speak to him through narrowed eyes and a stone-faced grimace. His look gave the impression that whatever points or arguments the soldiers were presenting held little substance; that their suggestions were, at best, fanciful thoughts.

Violetta De Luca, however, seemed much less decided on Flint's orders, watching each of the marines as they spoke their opinions on the matter. Violetta herself cast a heavy gaze over to Flint, who also returned her look with his own stern, expecting glance. "Sir, perhaps they have a point? It's possible that the marine driving that vehicle is coming to the gathering point on our call, and has come under attack. I do not mean to question your orders, sir, but if we are to complete this mission we will need all of the soldiers we can gather before we depart."

The female officer straightened back up, forming back into a determined pose as her momentum built back up her confidence. "If we eliminate all of the targets before they are able to escape, it's possible that they won't be able to properly broadcast a signal to nearby enemy forces, retaining our position's security. If anything goes wrong, I will take full responsibility for it, sir."

Flint listened to Violetta without a word, keeping quiet after she had finished. The Grand Admiral gave the woman a long stare, which Violetta reciprocated through her stern bespectacled eyes. After a moment more, Flint released a gruff chuckle beneath his breath, bringing his arm back up and readjusting his shoulderplate. "Alright De Luca, since you and a couple of the others seem so keen on it, I'll let you take this operation," Flint said in an almost casual tone. Violetta's eyes widened a bit in surprise, having apparently just been given controlling power over the Grand Admiral... for the time being, at least. "I'll be staying here, though. The moment this turns sour, I'm taking who we have left and moving to the north through the subway tunnels, with or without you and the rest. I can't afford to let this mission end here at this junction."

With that final word, Flint pulled off his helmet and sat back down on the stone ridge of the fountain behind him, his massive form sounding out a heavy thud as it touched the embankment. Setting his helmet off to the side, Flint pulled out his large pistol and began checking it, paying no further heed to the rest of the room.

Violetta De Luca only nodded once to Flint before turning back to the other marines, speaking through her headset in a commanding tone. "Marines, double time! I need marines in the building with Mayhew, and some at the mouth of the subway station entrance. Those of you in the tunnels, pull back and assist us. We will initiate a pincer when they get within firing distance, after the vehicle is safely in our proximity. Do not hesitate; our foes cannot be allowed to escape and inform others of our safezone. You have your orders, marines! Be ready for anything!"

At the top of the stairs, Bernhard didn't need telling twice. He activated his thrusters and shot towards the building Alex Mayhew was in. As he climbed the stairs to her position, he spoke with his external speakers, "Friendly coming up!" The last thing he wanted was to be shot by Mayhew.

Devlin dislodged the long-range rifle from the space above his rump. Detaching the bulky magazine from its bottom, he counted the number of rods he had to fire before depletion. Once satisfied, he loaded the rifle and took off for the stairs.

He followed Bernhard's lead and jetted across the intersection with the MPR held across his front. He would need the extra cover if there was a wait time between shots, and the station entrance would have given him little opportunity for refuge. Devlin still had the LSP, but that offered little consolation against the enemy mechs unless they were made of sheet metal.

Approaching Private Mayhew's position, he mimicked the other Hostile and announced his arrival.

Saveli gripped his rifle tightly as the entire group went into full-gear to assist the people and the marine in that truck. A little smile came over his face, knowing that what they were doing was good in the immediate. Mu'Klamal could shatter the peace of his dreams in the night and he would not care. As Muna would do nothing, but approve. These thoughts refreshed his mind as he charged up the stairs, taking a position by the entrance of the tunnel, with his robbed rifle

Muttering under her breath, Yuriko spat off to the side before her helmet clamped down around her head. There was a distinct Hiss as the suit became hermetically sealed once more.

"For the record, Ma'am, your idea would have taken too long to formulate and implement." Her Savtech told her in that bland tone it was oh so fond of using.

"Quiet," Yuriko growled.

"I am merely stating what Nepleslians are so fond of calling 'The Obvious'." The Savtech reasoned.

"And I'm saying: It. Would. Have. Worked." Argued the Private.

"And you boast technical expertise in Yamataian armor design, communications and computer operations?" Asked the Savtech.

"Yeah, I do. Long story, but we could've hijacked the communications gear and begun listening into the enemy comm channels. Easy fucking Intel, provided the AIES could've been made compliant it'd have given us a small edge. Maybe more, who the fuck knows now. All those possibilities down the shitter now if we have to pickup and haul ass."

"Who knows indeed... " The AI's tone turning thoughful.

"All I know is I'm about to take my growing frustration out on a brain slave pilot by shoving this size eighteen Nerimium boot up its ass. Then, then I'm going to drag that bastard across the concrete and broken glass of a sidewalk. WHILE it's still on the boot."

It took a moment for the Savtech to respond. Respond in a too damned condescending tone. "How very novel."

"You inspired it." Was all she could say as her Hostile stomped past the Grand Admiral and Admiral. Her destination, the Subway Entrance.

"I can see your fat arse Greer!" Was only comment Alex got from Bernhard. One of her monoeyes noticing movement from substations entrance showed a small screen. Bernie was there running towards the building followed by Marsh. Alex smiled under her helmet, at least it meant that officers downstairs finally decided to do something.

"Welcome to the party," Alex said to those two as the joined her in the builiding. Her hand pointed out of the window and then returned to grip her rifle. "There they are, I say the three of us focus our fire on the fron ripper. Hey Greer got any idea if MPR penetrates the Renders shields enough to deal some damage?" She asked him then. She had no previous experience with Renders. All she know was the fact that you are not supposed to be in front of it or above it.

"Copy that." Thomas answered, deactivating the Snakeskin camouflage on his Hostile and turning towards the subway station. He activated his thrusters, landing on the subway platform with his LSP and Vibrosaw at the ready, then quickly made his way to the entrance of the tunnel.

The marine regrouped with Saveli and Towa at the entrance of the tunnel, crouching down and looking towards the direction from where the truck was coming from.

Des didn't need to be told twice. She quickly went to the entrance of the station and took up an advantageous firing position behind a low concrete wall.

Over her comms, she said, "Caldwell in place near the entrance. I have a clear viewpoint from street level. Will await further orders."

Bernhard smirked, for the first time in a long time. "Hope you left some party gifts for me." For a moment, he was puzzled by the question Mayhew had posed to him. Who had an MPR... Oh, him.

"It could hurt a Ravager on Tange. It most definitely can hurt a Ripper. But is there anyone qualified to use it? I don't see Sergeant Volkov anywhere close by."

His HPAR was loaded and ready. Mayhew could be trusted. Marsh? He was nothing more than a body. Bernhard felt very uncomfortable trusting the biggest gun they had to an inexperienced P3C. Especially that first shot. But he also ready to admit that he had no skill with the weapon whatsoever. So he prayed Mayhew knew how to use it and would take it from Marsh.