Wilderness of Polup
Althea's monoeye glowed as soon as she regained control, not bothering to seek or give input on anyone else's decisions. Everyone here was a Marine after all; they should know how to operate in adverse conditions. When the shuttle blew, her helmeted head immediately swiveled to the accompanying bursts throughout the town. Of course it had been a trap. A totally empty shell, built like a bad cowboy show set?
Lt. Newborn's marker appeared on her HUD, and she waited for everyone else to start moving before following, still in the drag slot without contravening orders. She backed from the town with an eye for any more of those little fuckers in her sensor augmented vision. She kept them passive, just in case there were any more dazzling surprises awaiting them. Her hostile was the last to the hilltop rally point, not that it mattered for comms since they were all on the radio, and Althea mentally shrugged. This was command decision shit right here; whatever the Sergeant and L-T decided they were almost certainly 100% fucked.
Blood throbbed at the blond's temples. She fought the urge to grin or fidget at the thought of a fight against those odds. Everybody always bitched about last stands, mostly the last part, or at least that's how it went during mess hall bull sessions. Personally, there was something invigorating about knowing you were probably gonna eat it against impossible odds. It meant you were a real fuckin' badass if you survived.
"We're on a planet with lil' tiny sensors, Corbin," she remarked to her squadmate, "'less you meant how Inquiry missed it. That's probably 'cause they jumped right in her lap..."