CadetNewb
Well-Known Member
When it was time to leave, there was no ceremony. No large, massed crowd of onlookers. No inspiring speech about how humanity was grimly facing the nightmares of space. No breaking of some of the finest booze in the sector across the virgin hull - no, the Captain of the ship kept that for himself. He knew he'd need it if things went badly. And, it looked like things were going to go badly. The moment everyone was on board, the moment all the food, power armors, fighters and ammo were loaded, the ship performed an emergency takeoff and rocketed out of the planet's atmosphere.
They had only a few moments warning to tie everything down. And not necessarily themselves either - they were forced into the ground by the G's that the ship's systems didn't manage to dampen as the dozen-and-so ton vessel soared.
"WELCOME TO SLEDGE MAMA!" a booming, powerful voice exploded through the cargo hold and into the assembled marines. Flanked by several NCOs, heavy, massive footfalls heralded the arrival of a Hostile, the power armor battle worn and helmetless. Their attention settling on this figure, they could all see an older man in his late 50's with gray at the temples. But that didn't stand out too much. The large and thick scar crossing over his face did however. It looked unnatural, as though it was half-dead. "I am Lieutenant Gaston, and I don't have any time, so listen up!" he continued to yell. "I am in charge of your little platoon, and long story short, things have gone tits up - the Mishhu are poking their noses around, and we're the only ones that can stop them!" the Lieutenant explained to the motley group of marines.
For a brief moment, he seemed to sober, the man's voice a quieter, more serious tone, "Not everyone's coming back. BUT WE'RE GOING TO RIP THEIR SPINES OUT, AND THROW THEM INTO THE DARKNESS, LAUGHING!"
In an instant, the various squad leaders leaped into action, barking out rapid fire orders. A tall, buxom blond stepped forward and jabbed a scowling finger at them. "You lot - you're with me! Into the armor bays and suit up in your assigned armors, on the double!" Ylfa ordered them about.
They had only a few moments warning to tie everything down. And not necessarily themselves either - they were forced into the ground by the G's that the ship's systems didn't manage to dampen as the dozen-and-so ton vessel soared.
"WELCOME TO SLEDGE MAMA!" a booming, powerful voice exploded through the cargo hold and into the assembled marines. Flanked by several NCOs, heavy, massive footfalls heralded the arrival of a Hostile, the power armor battle worn and helmetless. Their attention settling on this figure, they could all see an older man in his late 50's with gray at the temples. But that didn't stand out too much. The large and thick scar crossing over his face did however. It looked unnatural, as though it was half-dead. "I am Lieutenant Gaston, and I don't have any time, so listen up!" he continued to yell. "I am in charge of your little platoon, and long story short, things have gone tits up - the Mishhu are poking their noses around, and we're the only ones that can stop them!" the Lieutenant explained to the motley group of marines.
For a brief moment, he seemed to sober, the man's voice a quieter, more serious tone, "Not everyone's coming back. BUT WE'RE GOING TO RIP THEIR SPINES OUT, AND THROW THEM INTO THE DARKNESS, LAUGHING!"
In an instant, the various squad leaders leaped into action, barking out rapid fire orders. A tall, buxom blond stepped forward and jabbed a scowling finger at them. "You lot - you're with me! Into the armor bays and suit up in your assigned armors, on the double!" Ylfa ordered them about.
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