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Post by DarkAries on Dec 16, 2004 9:09:32 GMT -5
Spartan Echoes-316 "Gabriel" looked up, his Battle Rifle at his shoulder but its barrel pointed down, standing quite literally atop the Baltimore as a lookout. His eyes narrowed behind his visor as he saw 411 coming back in.
He raised a hand to the side of his helmet. "316 here. 411's back inside the perimeter."
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Post by Raz V5.0 on Dec 17, 2004 13:09:46 GMT -5
Jamison Williams sat on a table in the medical ward, a young female nurse removing the bandages from around his ankle.
He had a bullet go through the damn thing a few months ago in a combat simulator; the miss fire of a trigger happy private, but his time off gave him the time he needed to heal a few other nagging injuries.
He sighed in relief as she finished un-wrapping the bandage around his leg.
"Am I ever glad to have that fucking things off."
The nurse smiled softly, she normally would have been disgusted by that type of language, but this was the military. She heard this kind of thing everyday.
She looked up from her knees at Jamison.
"Your good to go, sir."
He smiled, hopped off the table and extended a hand down to help her to a standing position. She accepted the offer and Jamison pulled her up quickly, almost knocking her back over from the strength he did it with.
"Well, sir, you better get going. There is a meeting in the Alpha Confrence Room."
Jamison put his hands on his hips and shook his head.
"It never fucking ends."
He bent over and placed his boot back on. He quickly tied it and then rose to his feet.
"Well Cassie, I have to get going."
Nurse Cassie, because that is her technical name, smiled at the large negro infront of her.
"I don't want to see you again, unless it is on a date."
Jamison smirked. White women loved him.
"Don't worry, you'll be seeing a lot of me if we go out."
He winks, the Cassie blushes.
"But, I got to get going, boo. Ya' know, the meeting and all."
Cassie smiled and took out a pen from her pocket.
"At least let me give you my number."
She took a few steps next to him and quickly wrote her number down on his forearm. She smiled up at him, fluttering her eyelashes.
"Call me."
She turned and walked out the door, leaving Jamison rather pissed off. He would rather not go to that fucking meeting right now.
Alas, he had to. He sighed and then left the room, headed for the meeting.
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Post by DeepFreeze on Dec 17, 2004 16:17:49 GMT -5
Rowan stood, still bobbing his head to the time of the music in his head, checking out all the different types of characters entering the room. Swabbies, pilots, ODSTs (rather, just himself), and a techie. All they needed were reps from the damn Army, and the UNSC didn't have one. Sure, a few systems and individual planets had their own armies (even Earth), but for some reason the UNSC didn't want one. The UNSC needed one; better to send the army in first to get themselves killed off rather than waste good Marines on it.
The tatooed platoon leader eyed one of the huge swabbies in the wacky green armor. Maybe they would do for now.
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Post by Juan on Dec 17, 2004 22:41:30 GMT -5
The Captain attached his monitor pad into the terminal at the podium in the Briefing room, up-linking to the ship’s mainframe. Mir accessed the data on the pad, adding notes and details to it in the process.
As people reached the door, they were stopped by ship security officers, who checked to see who arrived, making sure no unwanted individuals entered the room, and marking those that arrived onto Captain Sanders’ pad.
As the room began to fill, the Captain cleared his throat, hurrying those that entered the room. As people entered, they gave the captain a salute, then sat down or stood in back.
“I will be as brief as possible, because time is of the essence in this situation,” The Captain said, “You have been all selected for a mission that we hope will buy us enough time to finish up here, hence why you’ve been called here.”
’The name of this operation is Operation: Horsefly,” The Captain said, with a slight smirk on his face.
The Captain moved away from the podium, speaking as he walked, “As you know, we managed to be sent into this system by damage to our navigation systems, sending us flying all over hell.”
“We managed to leave slipspace right among their orbital defense and detection units, and they didn’t detect us. However, they know we’re here some damn how. From the transmissions Mir has been picking up, however, we know that they don’t know where we are, yet.”
“The Covenant here call this planet Usul, and it has some special interest to them apparently. Our preliminary scans have found nothing to show that this is any different from any Earth-like atmosphere planet, so we have no idea what its importance is. However, the Covenant here seems to be… unique.”
“Mir has been able to learn that this is actually a covenant separate from the ones we encountered at Garrison. We have no idea what this signifies, but this seems to be some sort of renegade faction of the Covenant, calling themselves the ‘High Covenant’, or something along those lines. Otherwise, we have no information on them at all.”
The Captain turned back towards the assembled group again, his hands at his side. A trickle of sweat fell down his brow, as he stood there quietly for a moment. He raised a small remote and an image appeared on the wall, of a collection of structures arrayed in a perfect circle. All the structures were interconnected by tube-like bridges. The buildings were arrayed around a large empty flat space of steel, covered with plasma scarring.
”This is going to be your target, an outpost that we have chosen from various others because of its important to the Covenant, strategically. Mir retrieved this data on the outpost during our ‘atmospheric descent’. The entire compound is 1.8 square miles in size.”
“The outpost has several mounted plasma turrets on the outermost perimeter buildings; however, we think that they will simply be off guard from our totally unexpected maneuver we are pulling here. There will be two teams, since we have two objectives. You will enter the area flying low in a Pelican. Lieutenant Hunter is the designated pilot.”
The Captain began pacing once again. “Your job, lieutenant, is to get our men in and out, and also provide aerial support for both teams. Lt. Hunter will move over the plasma turret marked here as point A. The Plasma Turrets are open, meaning you will be dropping right on top of any covenant units that could be there. Tango team will be dropping down here.”
“Tango teams’ mission is first to infiltrate the outpost, kill all Covenant personnel they may initially meet, and disable any defenses that may otherwise be a threat to either teams’ mission. As soon as Tango team is dropped, Lieutenant Hunter, hightail it out of the area, and put the ship down just outside any of the plasma turrets’ range. Upon Tango’s clear, Lieutenant, you will move and land your pelican at the center of the compound, at what we presume is a landing field.”
“From there Omega team will move out. Omega’s job is information retrieval. Hence why you are with us, Warrant Officer Deimos. Your will have one of our most important charges: You will be carrying a small data module with a powerful virus in its circuits. When you connect it up to a terminal, it should leech off information that Mir will be able to translate once you return.”
“Upon the completion of Omega’s mission, both teams will return to the Pelican, and take off.” The Captain began to grin. “However, Tango team will be leaving a little present to distract our Covenant friends. We are giving them from our stores a small, yet powerful nuclear warhead. When you are out of its’ range, you will detonate the warhead. It is our hope that this mission will both serve to attract Covenant forces away from finding us, to buy us the time needed for clean up operations, and also to gather any information we can on this ‘High Covenant’.” The Captain began to walk towards a doorway at the end of the room. “Mir will give you the final details. Good luck to you all, and god speed.”
The Captain gave them a Salute, to which everyone stood and returned, and then out of the conference room. The second the door slid to a close behind him, Mir appeared to life at the podium.
“Greetings. I too will be brief. Tango Team will be lead by Chief Petty Officer Spartan-316, and will consist of Chief Petty Officer Spartan-534, Lance Corporal Rowan Cho, Specialist Glenn Rindge, and Corporal Jamison Williams. Omega Team will be led by Lieutenant Carl Hunter, and consist of Petty Officer Spartan-411, Lance Corporal Ryan Corwin, Lance Corporal Darren Mathers, and Warrant Officer Vincent Deimos.” Mir said quaintly
”Report to the armory to retrieve equipment for use during the mission, along with weaponry,” Mir said, “The entire armory’s weaponry is open for your use, other then the heavy weaponry like the M19s which we are trying to conserve. Please report to the main hanger in approximately ten minutes, after retrieving your equipment. That is all.”
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Post by Naz T Mann on Dec 17, 2004 22:54:36 GMT -5
After the briefing was over, Darren got up and headed off to the armory.
"We think the plasma turrets ar offline" eh? That sure sounds comforting. I wonder if they also think we're actually gonna make it alive outta this. At least the Spartans will give us an edge. Glad I'm not on Tango. Darren grabbed rounds for his rifle and his pistol, then headed to the hangar.
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Post by DeepFreeze on Dec 17, 2004 23:04:36 GMT -5
Armory? Screw that.
As soon as the meeting was over, Rowan set course for his own quarters. Once he was inside, he surveyed his arsenel as he changed out of his day uniform into newly-issued reentry-grade drop armor, twice as effective going through atmosphere, and, like MJOLNIR armor, change its internal temperature to keep the wearer comfortable. Hydrostatic gel was at a premium, however, and coated only a few areas. ODSTs didn't need fucking energy shields, straight Titanium-A would do just fine.
Two MA5Bs. He slung one over his shoulder and tossed the other in a rucksack, followed by a seriously beefed-up M90 shotgun, which now had a folding stock, clips on the side for extra shells, and modifications to the pump that created a meatier, more satisflying clack, as well as a standard-issue five-round shot extender that increased the number of shells he could carry to thirteen. He also packed in several rolls of EB Green, a toolkit, and some parts he had crafted that would convert one of the MA5Bs into a chain-fed bipod support weapon. He planned to construct ammo belts out of EB Green mid-mission, during the quiet periods, or steal some from the Warthogs. Finally, a large stack of data chips loaded with music, scopes for the rifles, and a portable field compad. Then, standard gear. Sleeping bag and tent, mess kits, cleaning kits, first aid kit, a few canisters of Biofoam, glow rods, and all that crap.
He checked to make sure Lincoln was loaded and ready to go.
The ammo, grenades, and supplies would be waiting by the time his team had assembled; someone else could hump that to the LZ. He donned his helmet, sealed up his suit, and ran for the elevator that would take him to "ground" level.
He still really wanted to use his HEV.
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Post by Mega Raptor on Dec 17, 2004 23:47:24 GMT -5
Ryan couldn't help but think "suicide mission" the entire briefing, but he didn't have any better ideas either.
He sighed and just headed for the armory. With M19s restricted (not that it sounded like they'd be much use), he instead opted to grab an M7057.
'Defoliant Projector', god who comes up with these names? It's a flamethrower, they should just call it that. he thought as he grabbed a couple spare fuel cans for it.
Knowing that the flamethrower alone wouldn't cut it, he also grabbed a few frag grenades and a pistol modified to fire explosive tipped ammunition.
He nodded to himself and was about to leave before he noticed the C-7 and C-12 explosives.
Never know what you might need out there... he thought as he grabbed small ammounts of both along with appropriate detonators.
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Post by Draco Starcloud on Dec 18, 2004 1:54:59 GMT -5
Finch strolled through the armory, casually checking out the various SRS99Cs and SRS99CS2-AMs within it. He picked up an SRS99C, toyed around with it, then slung it over his shoulder.
He put the weapon back on the rack and held up an SRS99CS2-AM, did a similar test with it, then grabbed several clips for it.
"Just right." he said to himself as he packed away spare clips into storage compartments on his armor. He briefy considered an M7 and an M6D, but decided upon a BR55, as much ammo for it as he could carry on his persona, and a quartet of frag grenades.
He gave the BR55's scope a quick check before grabbing a different BR55 and comparing the two. He stuck with the first BR55. He briefly toyed with the idea of checking to see if there were any bandoleers in the armory so he could hold more ammo, but decided against it. He grabbed a Combat Knife for the hell of it and made his way to the hanger.
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Post by The Giant-Size Man Thing on Dec 18, 2004 10:41:43 GMT -5
Carl sighed. He was incharge of Omega Team?
"Dennis, get the Pelican fired up. I'm going to head to the armory and see what they have left."
Carl ran down with several other suicide mission members to the armor. There he spotted a few M6D HE Pistols, five in all. The ones with the scopes. He grabbed an empty bag and started placing them into it. Spotting two M2 SMG's and an M90 shotgun, he thought to himself.
Fuck it.
He threw the SMG's into the bag and hooked a shoulderstrap to the shotgun. Carl then grabbed another bag and filled it with pistol and SMG ammo, and grabbed a bandolier full of Shotgun shells. He slung the bags over his back, slung the bandolier over his shoulder, and picked up the shotgun. He then realized something
All of this shit is heavy.
Finding a push cart, he placed all of his stuff on it, and rolled his way to the hanger. Dennis was waiting in the cockpit. Carl secured the ammo and weapons in the front of the dropship, but took the shotgun and a pistol back with him. He holstered his pistol and secured the shotgun behind his chair.
"What's that for?" asked Dennis pointing at the shotgun.
"Close encounters," he cooly replied.
Carl grabbed his helmet and checked the Pelican's systems through his HUD.
Dennis reported to the bridge, "All systems are green. Nothing was damaged in the crash."
"We're ready to take off as soon as Tango and Omega teams are loaded and strapped in," reported Carl.
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Post by Pkmatrix on Dec 18, 2004 10:43:43 GMT -5
"So...I'm going on commando mission. This is probably the last thing I expected from that meeting..." Vince thought out loud, as all too often does, while attaching some Marine Armor to his leg. "I suppose I am qualified...and, I defintely am flattered that the Captain chose me for such an important task. But...I'm a Tactical Data Analyst, not a front-line commando! I did go through Basic like everybody else, but every battle I've ever fought has been from within a UNSC ship. I've never been in a ground battle before...let alone a precision tactical strike."
Vince sighs as he applies his shoulder armor. Despite these worries and protests, there is another part of of him ANXIOUS to go on this mission. He pauses in his armor application for a moment.
"I've never actually seen the Covenant with my own eyes," he whispers, "I guess there was always a part of me that wanted to meet one of them, face to face. Maybe not like this, but still...I want to look into their minds, see what they personally are fighting for, what drives them to conquer. We know so little about their culture, their society, or their history..."
Deimos cuts himself off when he hears someone looking through the weapons racks nearby. It's one thing to talk like this with his parents and their friends at the University, its another thing completely while here on the Baltimore. I would rather not be labeled an enemy sympathizer...especially among these gun-happy Marines....or a schizophrenic for talking to myself.
Vincent finishes putting on his armor and grabs some weaponry (nothing fancy, just a basic BR55 rifle and an M6 sidearm), before making his way towards the hanger. He has yet to see any sign of the Data Module the Captain had mentioned, so hopefully it will be waiting for him in the hangar.
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Post by Ai on Dec 18, 2004 11:27:55 GMT -5
Glenn smirked slightly, and briskly walked to his room. He put his full uniform on, and fixed his specialty pistols to holsters on his arms. He had to hustle to the armory from there.
"Damnit, why do I have to be so far away from the hangar..."
Glenn arrived at the armory, which was much closer to the hangar, and with a good 5 minutes of time to spare. He grabs a shotgun, two SMGs, and 4 frag grenades. He secures them all to himself, and leaves for the hangar.
He steps onto the Pelican, and glances around.
'Heh, this should be fun.' He thinks to himself. Glenn sits next to his team leader, Spartan-316.
"Ready to slaughter us some Covenant?"
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Post by Naz T Mann on Dec 18, 2004 14:24:59 GMT -5
Darren walked into the hangar, to see that a few people had beat him there. Well, aren't we eager to die. He took a seat on the side opposite the two Omega team members and nearest to the rear opening. At least I'll be able to give them some cover from here.
Darren slung his rifle over his shoulder, then drew his pistol and began to check it. He cocked it twice, checking the basic sight it had. He then put a clip in it and put it back in it's hip holster. He brought up his rifle, looking through the scope. He wanted to make sure he gave the Covenenant hell if he was going to die. He loaded a clip into the rifle, mad sure the safety was on while they sat waiting for the others.
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Post by Draco Starcloud on Dec 18, 2004 14:46:52 GMT -5
Finch walked into the hanger and looked for the proper Pelican.
"There we go." he muttered to himself and stepped aboard. He gave a friendly wave to the personnel already on-board and sat down. He checked to make sure the safeties were on on both his rifles and lied back in the seat.
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Post by Triyun on Dec 18, 2004 16:12:39 GMT -5
534 looked at 316, to ask him a question before choosing his own arms.
"Gabriel, would you prefer me to take sniper duty or not?"
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Post by DeepFreeze on Dec 18, 2004 16:27:09 GMT -5
On his way down to the hangar Rowan poked his head into the armory. He glanced around, and spotted the two SPARTANs standing by a rack of sniper rifles. Several robot dollies, loaded down with crates of ammo and grenades, trundled through the portal on their way to the same destination.
"Yo! Big guy!"
One of them had to be in charge. There were only three of them on the damned mission.
"We gonna need a Hog or what?"
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