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RP: NSS Acadia Mission 5: Quick Save

Chad channeled in the Neko chick. "Hey, Harm right? Uh, is the auto pilot really necessary?" He attempted to move and once again found it impossible. "If you read my profile, you would see that I am perfectly capable of flying this beautiful piece of weaponry on my own, and maybe both of us will live instead of just you?"
 
Luke heard the order and nodded before realising that he wasn't anywhere near the voice, it was through the communicator.

"Yes ma'am!" he said with some inaudible murmuring afterwards, and moved off into the shuttle bay.

He took his Heavy Penetrating Rifle out of its holster and found the shuttle, boarding it, and waiting for deployment.

"Let's bring out the dogs!" Luke said, silently laughing at the purposefully hidden meaning he had added in his message.
 
When finally aboard the ship, Matt simply faded into the rest of the crowd. Why stand out when hungry? Some of the other Marines thought otherwise though, and made a mess. From what he saw earlier, they were annoying, loud, rancorous and most certainly unprofessional. As Matt sat there in the shuttle, he came to a conclusion; he could get used to this. As he slipped the helmet on and secured it to the Hostile, the unassuming man became just another faceless mook.

Still, facelessness did not mean without emotion. Though comforted by the weight of his HPAR, entertained by the other Marines, and eager with anticipation, there was a hint of...what was it? Was it fear? No. Apprehension? Perhaps. He wondered what it was while eying 'Harm'. For a person of his upbringing, it was only natural to have at least a distrust for anything belonging to the NH series, but - wait. Matt figured out what it was he felt.

'What the hell is a Neko doing on our ship?'

He sighed deeply; no use trying to figure out why. He could always make her into a mess if he had to, and the others looked like they were ready to do the same. On the other hand, she was a looker, and looking good in a warzone was not always a good thing for...certain reasons. Matteo didn't know these Marines yet, he would in due time, but for now, he wondered. Just what would they all decide to do to her if she tried to betray them?

He mentally went from one marine to the other, attempting to figure out what each would do in their own power armored boots. It was fun, and his opinions on them was always growing and changing as he learned more of them.
 
The Chief could only sit back and watch as the interaction between Chad and Harm turned comically uncomfortable, as the Neko disappeared down into the shuttle bay with a Nepleslian Marine in tow.

"...Well, we're going to have our work cut out for us." Was really all the Chief could say to a cold and uncaring HUD. Waiting for the last of the Marines to leave the hangar, the Chief opened up a secure communication line with Henry's DataJockey, as the Marine was still waiting for an armor at the time.

"Morris, I'm going to be busy for part of the mission. I need you to take control of the squad for a bit."
 
Viktor Kingston deemed the NMX the Official Universal Harbingers of Miserable Military Life. They'd forced the Acadia jump across the galaxy to save the Senate, split up his squad, and dumped half of them off an obliterated train track. Of course, even in their absence, the bastards still made things difficult. Now Kingston and company were issued suicide orders under the command of a Nekovalkyrja who clearly had a death wish for the entire party- sans one Neko. Things were not well, and Viktor's lunch didn't improve his mood in the slightest.

But whatever- soldiers troop on, and they make sure to vent some of that pent-up aggression along the way. P1C Kingston decided the best way for him to do so would be to take an Aggressor. There simply was no better way to ease one's frustrations than blowing Misshu to hell with the explosive properties of the AOP or shredding them to ribbons with the AMP. He was looking forward to it with an almost eager anticipation once he was suited up. This was only the second time Kingston had piloted a Power Armor other than his beloved M7 VOID, but for now that was fine. It lacked the brute killing power of the Aggressor.

"Kingston, ready to launch."
 
P3C Makari Aeron strapped himself in and did a final once over of his controls and consoles and then broadcasted to Harm, "This is P3C Makari, ready to launch."
 
"Kingston, goddamn, good to see you're still in one piece!" the hulking Aggressor bearing Anselm barked, hefting the barrel assembly of its BULLDOG in one hand as it embarked onto Viktor's shuttle and made a show of taking up space.

"I'm not liking this merc much, how about you?"
 

"So how big were that woman's breasts, did ya say?"

Orion lifted his right index finger up in the air. "Ah, yes, well, as I said, we Freespacers are usually very physically underdeveloped, so I was suprised she had clothing that fit her bust. She must have easily been Fs or Gs."
 
Leaving Morris to answer his request, Ran simply walked over to the elevator that would lead him down to the Shuttle Bay. A standard "montage" of sorts would follow; the dismal sounds of machinery and claustrophobia of wires and metal were all broken by the sudden appearance of a shuttle bay full of Marines decked out in Power Armors. A virtual town scrambling to get in line for the shuttles, all with the common goal of inflicting unimaginable pain against those who would dare to inflict harm upon their countrymen.

Finishing up his cigarette by smoking it down to the filter and swallowing it, the Chief then stood to the side of one of the lines leading to the shuttle. Administering the appropriate amount of cursing and threats, Ran watched as what had been a disorganized group of Marines form into several neat little lines leading to different shuttles. Relieved of his duty by a Sergeant, the Chief immediately made his way to a random shuttle...

...Finding himself in the company of Kingston and Anselm. Just for shits and giggles, the Chief opened a comm line with the two of them and Harm, as well as the rest of the Marines under his command, saying in a very grave voice, "Remember, guys. If you all lag behind in the assault, I'm not responsible for whatever kinky shit Harm does to you when you're out of my sight. You know those nekos." Ran also made sure that Harm could listen in on it, if not to grant her the ability to chime in and intimidate his Marines into performing exceptionally.

All of that being said, the Chief closed Kingston and Anselm's comm lines and sat back, awaiting both the go order from Wazu or a response from Morris.

That all done, the Chief immediately closed the comm links with the rest of his squad, preferring to sit out the moments before deployment in relative peace.
 
"Alright, I won't disappoint you, Chief," Henry nodded as he had half of his armour put on. He just had to wait for the chest cavity to close up around him.

He smiled as the familiar hum of the HUD came up and started to evaluate Henry's vital statistics and a mission diagnostic appeared on screen. Worryingly, Henry's internal bleeding from the previous mission wasn't fully resolved, and warned that further injury could open the wounds.

He first made a few preliminary checks to see that everything was fully loaded and functional, and left the Radio till last, noting that there were some familiar faces on the roster. He opened comm. lines with them, "Kingston, Anslem!" He radioed to the duo, "Great to see some familiar faces in this cavalcade of oddity."

He then proceeded to move to the shuttle he and his acquaintances were.
"I trust we're all looking forward to showing those squiddy bastards what's what?" He smiled under his metal shell and filled in the punch line, "Fantastic!"
 
Despite having no expression, one Hostile in particular recoiled it's helmeted head back a little in surprise as Ran swallowed his cigarette butt. The armor shook its helmet a little in surprise. "Might as well go with filterless ones if that's what he's going to do." Matt muttered to himself; it was, first of all, against the entire purpose of the filter, second, it was simply uncouth. And in an honest third? The former syndicate member kept on half expecting the Chief to pull it out of nowhere in a magic trick like that one guy always did. But, considering the circumstances, the only place the Chief was going to pull it out of was his own ass.

But the mention of the Neko? He stiffened and moved his HPAR a little to cover is softer spot despite being inside several F*ck Tons of armor. Matt wasn't the only Marine to shift either, though, some of them merely laughed it off. Matt however, already knew better, and wasn't going to bet on it.

It was always safe to assume the worse with those women.
 
Sean shrugged, not sure why Ran had needed to say it. He thought it went without saying that a cat behind you was a bad thing. Just on the principle of the thing, if nothing else. Nonetheless, as he boarded the shuttle, he made sure to sit among other marines, rather then anywhere near Harm. "Ready over here, too."
 
This was not how Cedric had imagined his career in the military would start. Of course he knew that he was going in to combat. A person would have been stupid to not think that they were going to be fighting the Mishu. He just hadn't planned on being rushed through the last parts of his training, hustled off to his new ship, and to be told that he was being put on a raid against a Mishu prison camp. Well, it was good to know that he would be saving (hopefully uninfected) Marines from an otherwise unavoidable hell.

He still felt almost naked without an AOP-01a...man that thing was awesome.

Cedric pulled himself from his own thoughts and brought himself back to reality. He was shoulder-to-shoulder with some Marines who he had been informed were his new squad mates. Introductions had been rather non-existant. The boys in charge of supplies had been more concerned with getting him a Hostile, his equipment, and directions where to go. His "meal" had been some THRUST and fries. A wonderful pre-mission meal: especially for a person's first time in combat.

"So, are you ready for this?" Cedric asked, turning to whatever Marine happened to be standing beside him in the shuttle.
 
"So, are you ready for this?"

"Wazzat?" Naomi asked, her head turning to see who was speaking to her, and the next words taking a moment as her preoccupied brain set in motion and processed what had been said.

"Oh," she said at last. "Yeah. Yeah, you bet your ass I'm ready. Why? Feeling a little nervous?"

Her voice sounded a little flat, and the young Marine silently cursed at her own nerves for being so jumpy right now. She had often heard that it was hardest to wait before an operation, to stand around with only a little idle chit-chat to fill up the idle minutes. She believed it now.

Her last meal - and wasn't that a precious thought? - had been a nice one, as military food is considered. Then it had been off to pick up her weapons and a Hostile, the hulking, bipedal tank in which she stood now, surrounded by fellow Marines, some talking, others quiet. She had no idea who some of them were, honestly.

"What, you worried about me?" she asked. "Nice of you, but I'm alright here. This isn't the first time I've fought, you know?"

Fairly confident that conversation was over, Naomi turned back to the idle thoughts which had occupied her mind.

'Down at a country fair, one evening I was there, when I heard a showman shouting 'neath the flair...'
 
Phaedra boarded the shuttle that was specifically devoid of Harm and as a plus, full of familiar armor silhouettes. She found a spot near the exit ramp and transferred the helmet from under the crook of her arm onto the bench. Phaedra reached behind her waist to retrieve the MPR stowed there; the weapon smoothly unfolding and extending to its full five-foot length. Taking a seat on the nearby bench, she inspected the rifle carefully before inserting a fresh 5-round magazine and slamming it into place. With a deft yank on the bolt, Phaedra advanced a round into the chamber.

Satisfied, Phaedra placed the stock of the rifle on the deck and let it lean against her armored right shoulder. She took a brief glance around the shuttle; she noted the presence of Anselm, Viktor, Henry and several of the new marines she had not offically met. With a sigh, she closed her remaining eye and prepared herself mentally for the mission to come.
 
Awaking with a start, Lucas jolted his body upright, pistol in hand. His breath coming out in ragged gasps, he took stock of the situation: he was in an unfamiliar bed, in an unfamiliar room, which he guessed was located in an unfamiliar spaceship based on the tell-tale hum of the generators and microvibrations in the hull. The young Marine toggled the safety of his gun and got dressed quickly, all the while images of the combat from before, his first, swirling through his head.

He remembered he had landed on Nepleslia from an orbital insertion to rescue the Senate, that much was certain. But details eluded him, though he vaguely recalled a skirmish in the streets with PA-equipped Misshu, but the rest of the mission was a blur. So much for my first mission... he though, sighing. He thought it would have been more...well, memorable, at least. Lucas finished strapping on his equipment and headed out to grab some food and find the rest of his team.

Entering the cafeteria and subsequently being verbally assailed by the drone chef, he politely ordered some eggs and sausage, reasoning that since he just got up, so it was breakfast. He sat down with the other members of his team, then started to scarf down his food; Lucas didn't realize he had been so hungry.

Mid-bite, he noticed the green-haired woman who walked in. His only contact with a Nekovalkyrja had been with his mother, but she was a different kind, newer but looking as if she was the same age as the boy's adoptive mother. He couldn't help but stare, the combination of sensual and deadly in this woman/WMD holding his thoughts hostage. Before he could make a fool of himself for staring, his thoughts were interrupted thanks to Chad's trio of shots at the Junker chef. Lucas winced at the punishing blow Phaedra delivered to the other rookie in response, then shook his head. Some outfit I got myself in he thought to himself, smiling slightly.

He didn't have time to dwell on any of it, as the Neko named Harm ordered them to double time it to the hangar and get suited up. He swallowed what was left of his breakfast and headed down to get ready. The Quartermaster Junker issued him the Ripshot he had down on Nepleslia, as well as a suit down the line, a basic Hostile, which he strapped into and powered on, checking the readouts and nodding, satisfied. He grabbed the standard HPAR and four standard grenades, which he strapped to the skirt armor of the suit. He followed the rest of the team to the shuttle and climbed aboard, noting it would probably get cramped fairly quickly with all the armor. He gave a terse "Ready to go, sir."
 
Kingston smiled at the sight and sound of Anselm. Though it could not be seen, it was more than obvious in his tone of voice. "Anselm! And Morris! The same to you both." He quickly switched to a direct line between the three of them. "Is it just me or do the higher-ups seem to find some sadistic pleasure in making us jump fiery hoops with stray mutts? No offense to the new guys, it's just that we've been getting so many. Did the NMX really draw such a crowd?"

Just then the Chief bumped in with a quick quip, and again he smirked. "I don't know, sir, I'd imagine she'd save that for the victory party: easier to get away with." He made sure to send it directly to Ran Rui, if only to evade the malevolent cat-woman's wrath.

Then, he was back to his old comrades. "Yes, and more than usual. If they weren't here in the first place, we wouldn't have to deal with this psycho."
 


“When you sober up a bit,” Harm replied to Chad as the shuttle began filling with other power armored soldiers “Serious Jackassery while I’m eating leads to you getting the short straw on this assignment. If you happen to make it to the surface then we’ll talk about letting you fly again.”

"Remember, guys. If you all lag behind in the assault, I'm not responsible for whatever kinky shit Harm does to you when you're out of my sight. You know those nekos."

To which the disappointed response from harm came, “… you don’t want to watch?”

---

The shuttle doors would slide closed followed by a soft hissing as the interiors were over pressurized. Displays integrated into the sides of the shuttle would start showing the launch bay, the numerous dart shaped ground attack craft, and the single tank that they would have backing them up. The launch bay itself would depressurize and the outer doors would open, showing off a massive green and blue ball below them. Large golden balls of light were arcing up from the surface only to pop long before they reached the ship sending large flashes of light through the sky as the system’s star began to rise behind them, shadows stretching out from the various small hills and mountains below as light began to fill the surface of the planet.

Then a voice came over the group channel for the marines. “Hey Everyone this is GreenBean and I’ll be your escort for today. I’m in the fighter to your left with the cockpit.” He would then raise his hand, waving it at the pair of shuttles through the golden bubble cockpit of his fighter craft. “Green Squadron will be in charge of ensure your safe flight to the battlezone. In the event of an emergency exits are located to your sides and below you. Should your shuttle disintegrate on re-entry we will try and guide your power armor to the LZ manually. Sitting behind my is GreenHorn, he will be remotely piloting your shuttles and probably won’t wreck them…. AND GO!”

As soon as the pilot finished his little speech numerous engines ignited, sending the shuttles and their fighter escorts hurdling down towards the planet below with the tank taking up the rear, having to angle its body to coast down into the atmosphere unlike the other craft that were in a powered dive. The bright light of the shields straining against the atmosphere’s friction would soon fill the forward view screens as the ones showing the sides and rear started to get filled with a variety of colors. Long, glowing, strips of green, blue, and pink were starting to fill the atmosphere, the familiar black and white of stars and space being replaced with the colorful bands. Harm would chime in over the all hands frequency almost immediately.

“We’re experiencing some problems in contacting the ship, if we f..ly loose commun..ations then the plan d…n’t ch…e. Get to the …….d bring every…..e find back to the La..ing Zone.”

It was now that the NMX defense began in earnest.

“Bean, we’ve got two enemy craft approaching from our 8 o’clock.”
“Roger, Sending drones to engage.”

Two of the fighter drones would break off, changing heading and diving towards the NMX shredder gunboats that were fast approaching. Both would pull straight up as the fighters approached, firing off their plasma cannons and launching a barrage of mini missiles. Even before the plasma bolts would hit the two fighters would lash out with their own missiles and lasers, the fast moving beams cutting through missiles and striking one of the gunboat’s almost instantly, cutting through the shields and tearing a gash in the right side wing. The handful of missiles from the fighters then got close to the swarm from the NMX, large, bright, nuclear fireballs then began to engulf the swarm as the Nepleslian missiles detonated in sequence.

The NMX began to dive back down towards the planet, pulling away from the fighter group but not before firing off all of their missiles. These were joined by missiles fired from the surface by tanks, emplacements, and other man portable systems. The NMX had managed to identify which ships were the transports and were now planning to remove them before they could drop off their cargo. For those onboard their only indication of what was going on were small points of light coming up from the planet to meet them and the sound of a worried Greenbean on the radio,

“Might want to hold onto something, We can’t contact the ship for anti-missile support so we’re going to have to deal with more opposition than we thought.”

The ground would continue to rush up at the shuttles as they began to pull upward, skimming only a few hundred feet above the ground as the fighters began swatting missiles out of the sky, flashing of light and large nuclear fireballs filling the sky until finally they began to enter the formation and strike the shuttle’s shields.

Greenhorn then yelled out, “Shit, GET READY TO JUMP!”

Both shuttles started to pull upward. Harm’s shuttle ended up disintegrating under missile impacts, the outer hull and shields peeling away to leave the power armored soldiers inside suddenly without anything below them.

The second shuttle ended up having its rear wings sheared off and engines damaged, smoke began to fill the cabin as it fell towards the ground, smashing into a cornfield and then bouncing twice before carving a large scar through the ground and coming to a stop.

---

Harm would use her power armor’s thrusters to slow her fall as the shuttle came apart around her, remembering to do the same for her auto-piloted marine, returning control to him for the moment. Her power armor would come down feet first, the shields training against the impact of the ground as it too carved out a small trench. Around her was a cornfield, and above her was the green, blue, and pink colors blotting out the sky. The glare of the sun was shinning through behind her, filling the area with a dim light. With the head high cornstalks extending in all directions very little light actually reached the ground.

Not to far away was the prison camp itself, built ontop of a small hill overlooking the cornfields. An empty, slight incline led upwards, extending a few hundred feet before the first 20 foot tall fence. There was another empty space stretching for 40 feet followed by another 20 foot tall fence. Tanks were positioned around the outside as were numerous watch towers designed to keep people from getting out. Additional storage pens were also located inside, each holding hundreds of people There were also various small buildings.

Flying overhead were the attack fighters, their lasers having already reduced the tanks and watch towers to rubble, numerous EMP strikes helping to wipe out any remaining shields as NMX infantry began pouring out of the buildings, taking cover where possible and firing their weapons at the attacking fighters.

“ALRIGHT,” Harm shouted over the com system, “Who’s still alive?”
 
The words "probably won't wreck them" echoed in Makari's mind during his free fall to the planet's surface. He couldn't blame the marine for their current predicament, but by golly someone was gonna pay. He had hoped for a short nap during the shuttle ride; crankiness cometh.

After a bit of free fall, he turned on his boosters to slow his decent. Though Makari landed a bit rough from too much free fall, everything was in working condition.

"Makari here, I'm alive. Just peeved I didn't get a nap during that drop. Stupid NMXs," he paused, "fun free fall though."
 
Cedric had never been one for the idea of flying, even though he had never gotten much of a chance. It didn't help that Harm's radio report was choppy, and that they all recieved a grim report of contact with their home ship being lost. That was not good. However, Cedric didn't have much to do as one of the Marines being dropped, and so he could only watch the displays as a knot slowly began forming in the bottom of his throat with every single event that went on.

The loss of communications.

The Shredders.

Then the first shuttle just getting destroyed!

Finally Cedric's bad feeling came to fruition. Their shuttle was damaged and smoke started flooding in. They began a steep and uncontrolled nose-dive towards the surface. It all passed nearly too fast for Cedric to reasonably see anything. The only thing he could identify was something that looked like a field of some kind coming up to meet them, and fast! Upon impact, all the jostling knocked Cedric out.

His ears were ringing as he came back in to consciousness, and as the sensation faded he managed to catch the last of Harm's radio transmission.

"...still alive?" Even though he hadn't heard the full message, he recognized a request for a SITREP.

"Private Sommerville: battered 'n bloody but still kicking." He groaned from the throbbing in his head as he sat up, "I don't know about the other Marines: we hit a field of some kind and I'm going to try to make sure they're okay: orders ma'am?"

Cedric turned to the cockpit. He would check the pilot and crew first. He moved between the tossed about fellow Marines, unable to determine who was dead, and who was simply knocked out. Once he was sure of the crew's status, he would try to secure the area, and help his fellow Marines get out of the shuttle.
 
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