As everyone shouted different more motivating things, there was one marine corporal who really didn't care. He sat and listened to some smooth classic rock that kept him calm. He pulled out a cigarette and began smoking it, after a quick flick of a lighter brought it to life. Right now, he was inhaling tobacco. Once they were off the dropship, he would be smoking something less than legal. He had never been caught, and he was a fine marine, no one really bothered him so often to find out what he smoked during firefights.

His name was Cleon Mantis, but he liked it best when people called him "Rooster". He was almost always calm and almost never angry.

Cleon finally chimed into the conversation with, "Have a little faith, baby! Have a little faith." He didn't like it when people brought down the mood. "Don't be hitting me with them negative waves so early, baby." He said in a new agey hippy kind of way, but nonetheless, his voice was still masculine and surprisingly deep. "Let's have some positive waves!"

A lot of people would dislike him for the way he talked, but he didn't care. He looked to the new private and the new medic, "Have a little faith, baby! With positive waves like this, who could lose?" He said in reference to the music.

Even though he didn't seem like a leader, he was a corporal. He had figured he would be stuck at the rank of Lance corporal for the rest of his career, but he somehow managed corporal, and E4 pay was pretty darn nice.

Cleon had headphones around his neck that blared a song called Take Me to Heaven. It was a very smooth song, with a ukelele that gave it that Hawaiian island sound. He nodded his head along with the music, smoking his cigarette, and looking all around like nothing was any different about this period of time.

Tyrone broke his hard military stare for a moment and let his face turn to a half-smile. The two interactions with superiors he had thus far contrasted quite a bit, and he hadn't met many of a higher rank who were so friendly off the bat. He realized that it he should probably return the courtesy he had been given.

"I'm... I'm Tyrone"

He had almost forgotten what his own name even was, and it certainly felt strange to say it out loud again, even his father called him Harvey most of the time at home. He smirked and nodded at Anan's comment before following closely behind. The quick pace and bustling action all around them made conversation impossible as they winded through the ship. He followed suit in grabbing his own munitions behind the sergeant before tailing him onto the team's drop-ship. He regretted missing the speech made by his boisterous officer, but had he been seated he wouldn't have heard much anyway, because the reality of his situation was beginning to dawn and give him the jitters. He followed Anan's offer to sit, and as he strapped himself in tightly the world fell away around him. He had taken a handful of lives, rabbits, deer, whatever his father would drag him along to hunt, but the thought of putting an end to a human being was difficult for him to swallow in that moment.

Breathe

He closed his eyes and took in deep breaths, leaning back in his seat. He heard and felt nothing but the beating of his own heart. The yelling of O'Hennessy, the rumbling of the ship, something about good vibes... He was in and out of his own mind.

Dont freeze up

Privates who freeze up cost lives and lose battles. There were always a few who ran, or just stood like a deer in the headlights in the face of the enemy.

DONT FREEZE UP

This battle would decide whether he'd rise fast or be relegated to desk duty forever. Tyrone was on the fence about dishonor being worse than death, but he did know of something that was certainly worse than both; endless piles of paperwork.

DON'T FUCKING FREEZE UP

He was ordering himself to remain calm, or at least look it on the outside. He remained leaning back in his seat, clutching his gun and ensuring that the safety was on for the 100th time, just to keep himself occupied.

You're a Harvey, and you will not be the first one to disgrace this family

Somewhere along the line the voice in his head turned into that of his military father. Perhaps because he was always reminding him not to be a fuck up more than anything. Yet despite all of the anxiety and images of failure running through his mind, underneath it there was a twinge of excitement for what lay ahead.

Adrenaline is a fucked up thing

He kept his eyes closed and waited.

Selene frowned momentarily taken aback. What waves was she talking about was he sensitive to the millimetric radar or the active uv her scanners used. The thought snapped her out of her fear induced isolation. According to studies only one person in six million was sens… it slid into place. He meant metaphorical waves, vibes or whatever. A genuine smile sprang to her lips for the first time since she had stepped aboard the dropship. The faint twang of some kind of music, ukulele? came from headphones around his ears. Her AID carroted him as Corporal Mantis.

“Those things will kill you,” she said nodding at his cigarette. She had to raise her voice to be heard over the rush of the dropships decent.

“Been here before I take it?”

Cleon coughed and sputtered, exclaiming in a horse voice, "They will?!" He suddenly cleared his throat, "Sorry about the sarcasm. I know all about them vibes." He continued smoking.

The medic hit him with a question, been here before I take it? He scratched his chin a little and let out a puff, "Wait, where?- I mean, Sotra, no I've never been." He stumbled on his words for a second. "This planet don't have enough positive waves for me to visit." He said, fairly certain that she was hoping for a different answer. "Just feel them positive waves, and stay in formation. You'll be with the headquarters team, in the middle of the squad, RIGHT NEXT to the Rooster, baby." He said, referencing himself as the squad main gunner. "And I will be playing some good music that'll help calm everyone."

A squad was made up of three teams. Alpha, bravo, and headquarters. HQ was always in the middle of formation, and included the heavy gunner, the squad leader, the medic, and the long range radio man. It might also include a mortar section, on occasion. Cleon called himself the Rooster in reference to the fact that he carried the biggest gun in the squad, and metaphorically the watcher over the hens. He never really tooted his own horn, he just liked the sound of the name.

Cleon always made it his goal to keep everyone calm and happy to be there. New people were his main targets.

"Hey, you might want a few puffs on one of these while we're out there." He tossed a cigarette to the medic, "and you, new guy." He tossed another one to the new private sitting next to her. "Just keep thinking positive thoughts, and we'll have some good waves."

The Rooster? Vibes? Stranger and stranger. Her medical instructors at the Marine Corp had suggested that most Marines got a little odd after extended periods in the field. It was an open question whether it was the work, or the fact that only those who were a little odd would consider getting shot at for a living. Selene supposed that didn't say anything good about her. She tucked the cigarette into one of the small pouches in her armor without smoking it.

"I meant here as in have you been in action before?" she clarified watching the chrono rushing downwards towards impact. The ship began to maneuver more violently, presumably to avoid ground fire.

Tyrone's retreat into himself was interrupted by the impact of a cigarette on his lap. He turned to its source to see the strange man who had been rambling about vibes and music and... roosters? He hadn't been paying much attention. He was puzzled by the Corporal's Demeanor, he sounded less like a soldier and more like the protesters that always show up whenever they all gather for deployment. He handed back the cigarette while shaking his head firmly, he wouldn't be caught dead doing anything that would make him anything less than his best.

"So why is someone like... you a soldier anyway? Your attitude doesn't fit it much..." spotting the insignia on his armor he realized that he was speaking in a mildly distasteful tone to a superior, so after a pause he threw in a "sir" for good measure.

He realized as he was speaking that both him and the Medic next to him were asking the man questions at the same time.

"Oh excuse me I didn't mean to interrupt any conversations"

I never liked the 'tin-chatter', a term I used to describe the outwardly calm but inwardly nervous small talk a team would conduct when within the confines of their carrier. Whether a land based APC, a seaborne craft, or an orbital dropship, it was always the same: irrelevant. There was only one reason for it, and that was to take one's mind off the impending battle.

That's why I never partook. I was no warrior, that was for certain, but I wasn't afraid either. All men are born, and all men die, and that has pretty much been my philosophy since the Cunningham Disaster back on Plutora IV. Heroes and cowards shared an equal lot in that fight, I saw a lot of good and bad soldiers die, but I also saw a lot of them survive. Whether you were a gung-ho Captain, leading your men from the front towards a machinegun nest, or a cowardly back-camper at the rear of the assault, in the end it was just a maths game. You both had an equal chance of living or dying, and I'd seen nothing to contradict my theory.

Looking out the window, I saw the smouldering metropolis of New Portland. Black plumes rose from between skyscarpers, bright lights flashed in the streets below and little dots moved back and forth. The battle was in full swing, and we were about to gate crash.

The dropship shuddered violently, and my stomach sunk into itself as the pilot performed an evasive manoeuvre-- I soon saw why. A warhead, roughly the shape of a clenched fist - possibly a 98MM Thermal - streamed past the window. I'd of flinched, but I knew the missile had gone wide. Thermal launchers were great weapons, easy to use and destructive, but their multi-tracking capability reduced their finesse. I'd had a dozen birds dodge my judgement in the past; they'd always leave it until the last second before moving out of the way. That was the trick, see? Move fast, but not too early, you want to deny the warhead its chance to turn in on you.

The warhead exploded some distance behind the dropship, I had heard it, but not felt it. A total miss.

And then, looking back down at New Portland, I saw more of them streaming towards us; black balls trailed by orange plumes. I'd of yelled a warning, but the pilot would have seen what I was seeing, and would already be performing the necessary manoeuvres-- and as for the others? The less of them that knew the amount of danger we were in just by being in the air, the better.

I reached back, and pulled my launcher from its holster. Without the cylinder behind me, I sunk into my seat a few inches and released a sigh. Sitting against a wall with a solid object between you and it got quite uncomfortable after a while. The magazine was already inserted, but not primed - and I wouldn't prime it yet either. Best to wait until I was on the ground, in-case the turbulence jolted my hand and I ended up taking out the whole dropship.

Warheads started to explode all around us, as the city grew closer. The dropship shook violently from some of the nearer misses, but the pilot seemed to be negotiating the way with ease. I just hoped they didn't bring anything heavier or more purpose-based against us, because then we were in trouble.

And then on que, I heard one of the flare pods release at the rear of the dropship. Either the pilot had run out of room to manoeuvre the incoming salvos, or something more effective had targeted us.

Cleon drifted off for a few seconds after hearing her question,I meant here as in have you been in action before? He quipped up with a reply after his little moment, "Yes, many times. Too many times for four years of service." He paused for a second, "Oh, and, uh, I like to be called the Rooster every now and then, if I didn't make that clear." He realized he probably looked like a light headed idiot and was probably confusing everyone.

He suddenly had the cigarette returned to him after he had tossed it to the private, "Negative waves, baby. But it's okay if you don't want to smoke." He said, tossing his cigarette butt to the side and popping the unacceptable gift into his mouth and lighting it.

Cleon chuckled at what the private had to say, "Well, I ain't a soldier, I'm a marine." He said it with a comical smile. "And you gotta think positive thoughts to get them positive waves, man." He continued, "We all are here for some reason or other, I just enjoy the travel and shooting a big gun."

"So doc, have you been here before, on Sotra or in combat?" He said, speaking to the medic, hoping she didn't take offense to being called "doc" as it was meant as a compliment, and most medics who were called medic were the sub par ones. Hopefully she would live up to being called "doc". In his experience most medics disliked being called "medic". It was usually associated with inexperience.

"How 'bout we can you 'Cock', Corporal," Snake replied as he shut the port side hatch as soon as rockets and homemade ant-air guns began to blast at their dropship. "'Cause it sounds like you got a big veiny one stuffed in your mouth every time you talk boy. How do you like those 'negative vibes'?"

Snake tapped into every available channel he had access and authorization to and began to listen in. Almost every other bird from the Destiny was taking fire from somewhere outside the city, some of them taking damage as local authorities were being out-classed and overrun by the rebels faster then they could deploy. Despite their rusted look, the rebels knew what they were doing.

"Looks like some of you will have a good first day out their," Snake commented, "these shits are the real deal. I'm getting reports that the outer districts of New Portland are being completely over run. Always better to die against actual fighters instead of dickheads with dirty bombs duct-taped to their chests."

@Elitestpotato@Tricheus

"Copy, power is being rerouted." Alice gained her rare professionalism, "Estimated time until process finish is at seven seconds. Thank you Miss. Kathy for your assistance. I applaud you ability to line numbers up and the usage of algebraic symbols. Would you like a gold star and apple juice?"

No one said that being professional didn't mean not being snarky, Alice thought to herself; turning back to Officer Sans, she scanned the frigate, it was either a very old ship or a converted civilian ship. Either way, it lack any military grade armor, with much it welded on, but the engines seems to be a fairly recent model.

"The rebel frigate seems to be quite an old ship and jury-rigged fairly heavily." Alice notified the pilot as he was busy flipping switches, "I would say that their lower hull seems to be pretty thin and welded on, quite shoddily I might add. The engines might be problematic, if I can get permission, I can engage my electronic warfare systems to try and slow it down."

Taking a break from the cockpit, her voice was heard in all of the drop ships going planet-side, "Ladies and gentlemen, you ETA is currently at less then ten minutes. Expect heavy flak in atmosphere, we'll be covering you from up here so you aren't picked off without proper space equipment. Remember to request back-up and orbital support as needed, we will try to oblige. Watch your fire down there, initial reports from New Portland say there are still scattered pockets of civilians, some of which have taken arms from the rebels as defense. Try not to kill any of them if you will. Good luck and good hunting, Alice out."

@Elitestpotato@ClocktowerEchos Captain Stirling was examining their every option in the battle at hand, and making sure everything went over smoothly, when both Alice and Officer Sans addressed him. He first replied to Alice "Go ahead and activate your EWS, we'll need every advantage we can get to make sure we get a complete victory out of this." He then addressed Sans' question "Suggestion noted, Sans. Alice, you heard him, have the majority of our weapons target the lower hull and engines, but keep a small amount focused on the bridge, to ensure we completely take out their control over the ship." He sat back a bit, slightly eager to see how all this played out.

“I…” Selene began as several explosions rocked the dropship. The chrono in her visor was spiraling down dizzyingly.

“Fifteen seconds,” she said to the corporal, rooster?, with the clinical detachment she had in a chaotic OR. Press the release, get off the boat. That was the first step, just get off the ship before some rebel with a hundred dollar RPG blew apart a dropship worth a hundred million. Plus a cargo of marines whose training costs and equipment but it into the billions.

Despite the timer predicting it to the hundredth of a second the impact came with shocking suddenness. Selene’s teeth clacked shut with the impact. The marines sprang to their feet even before the explosive bolts in the hatches fired to fling them free. Dust billowed in and Selene got her first breath of air on Sorta. It reeked of jet fuel and cordite.

“Go Go Go!” someone screamed over the comms and the entire world was alive with scrambling armored men.

Cleon popped a very different looking cigarette into his mouth and lit it in about 2 seconds before bum rushing the opening of the dropship.

He held his hand in the air, making the hand signal for a wedge formation and screamed, "BOUNDING OVERWATCH" to signal for everyone to get into formation. Soon everyone would start echoing him. If they were gonna make it through the battlefield, formations and team work was their only hope.

"Stay close with the headquarters team, doc!" Cleon, being the squad main gunner was probably gonna be the one taking bullets for the rest of his team, making himself the target to keep the doc from dying while she saved lives.

He called out to the new private Harvey, "C'mon! Stick with headquarters team, MARKSMAN! Everything's gonna be GREAT!" His false motivation might have been peaking out at the seams, but he kept up the facade, for those who watched him. "This is it, let's get started!"

A corporal was a fundamental part of a team. He was the NCO closest with the junior enlisted and a very important part of the chain of command. He was the first for a junior enlisted Marine to go to with any problems, and the one most trusted by his team. NCOs were the backbone of the Marine corp.

Snake was the first out of the dropship, instinctively taking point as everyone vacated into the streets. Most if not all the buildings around them were already hammered hard by rocket fire. Small fires burned through the skeletons of cars, sending up smoke throughout the entire area.

Everything smelt like burning garbage and shit, even through his helm's filters. The decay and disarray almost made Snake fell at home, which gave him no pleasure. Damn terrorists knew how to turn a nice neighborhood into Shit Mountain.

"Marines!," Snake shouted over the masses, "let's get moving already. Hate to watch us all fucking die like idiots with our thumbs up our asses. Start moving down the road now!"

Tyrone felt the low rumbling of the dropship turn into a violent shaking as the ship neared impact. Fifteen seconds he heard the medic say, and with it the adrenaline started pumping through his veins. He maintained a countdown in his own head so that he could be prepared for the hit.

Ten... nine...

During the long ride he felt like choking was a possibility, but no more. He was ready more than anything now

Eight... seven...

He clung to his sidearm. His sniper wouldn't be of use right out of the hatch, he wasn't even sure just how close to the heat they would all be. Luckily his handgun delivered a decent amount of firepower. He wouldn't be in his element in CQC, but he also wouldn't be useless.

Six... five...

He'd have to shut up and listen today. No thinking outside of the box. At this point his training was kicking in and he knew he wouldn't be able to be creative out there anyway.

Four... Three...

Tyrone was jostled by the sudden impact. His restraints weren't tight enough to keep him firmly in place, and he lurched forward into a sudden stop.

I must have been counting too slow

He wanted to blame the heat of the moment for his miscount, but marines should never blame the heat of the moment... after all in battle there's nothing outside of it. BOUNDING OVERWATCH rang through the air. He turned to see Rooster, as he called himself, transformed. Tyrone had half expected the guy to hop off the ship and try to make peace with his good vibes or something, but the guy looked, well, like a soldier. He shot up as he heard himself addressed by name. He moved out of the ship and echoed the corporal before getting into wedge formation.

Of course O'Hennessy was the first one out

Tyrone couldn't help but smirk. He was more ready for this than anything he has ever done. He turned on the HUD on his helmet and held his sidearm, still with the safety off and his finger off the trigger.

Don't take any risks until you see the enemy

Selene darted through the street scape just as she had been taught during her training. She kept herself in the center of a triangle that seemed to be forming between O’Hennessey, Rooster and another soldier who’s name she hadn’t gotten. She was supposed to be near the head quarters unit and so far O’Hennessey was it. Once someone got hit, or they set up a defensive position she would have somewhere to work.

The city seemed alien to her, possessing neither the modern grace of Lucerne nor the pastoral idyllic quality of rural Switzerland. Many of the building were damaged, either by enemy fire or looting by the native population. A large proportion of which were hostile to her and her Marines. Somewhat belatedly she unsnapped her pistol and bought it up to the appropriate position. At least she could look like a soldier.

A series of powerful explosions rocked the streets ahead and she almost barreled into O’Hennessy’s back as he stopped, making a sudden change in direction she hadn’t anticipated. She gritted her teeth. Just stay near him the man had said. So far so good.

Snake stopped dead in his tracks as he watched a series of rocket-propelled mortars slam right into an already hammered building a block down the road. The explosions rocked the entire street and sent metal shrapnel and concrete paving everywhere, just short of their position. Snake shifted footing and dodged to his right just as a sedan-sized chunk of road came crashing down just ahead of him. The officer raised his fist high above his head signaling everyone to stop for the moment.

"Sorry 'bout that," the officer apologized to Selene, having realized that he almost caused a minor accident. "Best to get out of the way of something yah can't kill."

"Ok everyone," Snake began as he revved up his flamethrower with a light show of blue flames, "that up ahead was a warning shot. These Rebels are pissed scared of us marines coming in an' mopping up their dumb asses. Keep a lookout, 'cause they might actually try and hit us next time."

@Elitestpotato@ClocktowerEchos@Tricheus
Captain Stirling watched as the weapons fired from the Convergence of Destiny blew apart the bridge and engines of the makeshift rebel frigate, shuddering slightly as one of their few missiles hit a deck that seemed to have been near a vital system. Stirling keyed the Comm for engineering and said "Stirling to Engineering, make sure that missile hit we took didn't damage anything vital. If it did, I want a team working on it ASAP. Stirling out." By about 10 minutes in, the rebel ship was dead in the water, unable to do anything of importance. "Good work, everybody. Helm, bring us around to a position near the rest of the UESA fleet. Alice, contact Fleet Admiral Davis, ask him which target he would like us to begin firing upon, then work with Weapons to target the vessel. I need to speak with Blackburn." He lit another cigar, took a puff, then keyed in Chief Warrant Officer Blackburn's private Comms channel. "Blackburn, I have orders. I need you to get a team to the capital building of New Portland, where the UESA forces have established command. From there you'll meet up with Warrant Officer O’Hennessey as your command squad for this mission."

---

@Austronaut@TheRealCrow@Warrior in the Shadows@FPR

Jason had landed on the planet in a smaller-than-average dropship the UESA used for officer transport. He was in the transport compartment with the most of the rest of the command staff, just before they got ready to land. When they touched ground, Blackburn was the first one out. He cleared the area for the rest, and led them into a building to set up Comms channels with the various squads. Jason got the message from the captain at that point "Roger that, sir. I'll contact O'Hennessey, and send him and his squad the co-ordinates for the Capitol Building. Warrant Officer Blackburn, out." He then keyed in the Comm for O'Hennessey's squad, and spoke up. "Warrant Officer O'Hennessey and Squad, this is Chief Warrant Officer Blackburn, head of the ground forces for the Convergence of Destiny. Captain Stirling has given me orders to meet with your squad at the Capitol Building, and join you as my command squad for this operation. I'm sending co-ordinates for the Capitol Building to each of you on your HUDs, and will establish further orders there. Be warned, there is enemy contact between you and the objective, looks like a fortified building. So stay safe, and I'll see you at the HQ in the Capitol Building. Blackburn Out." He keyed off the Comm, shouldered his rifle, and set out for the Capitol Building.

Most of the trip was uneventful for Blackburn, with few enemy contacts. He did manage to take out a pickup truck that had a light machine gun mounted on it, with some well placed shots to the driver and gunner. Eventually, he got the the HQ, and checked in. The rest was a rather dull wait for O'Hennessey's squad.

---

UESA Intelligence Officer Johann Weiss was aboard the Convergence of Destiny when the battle broke out. Only the Captain and a select few back at Orpheus IV knew he was there, as he was not listed in any of the crew or passenger logs, and no one had had any contact with him. He had secretly made his way to the launch bay, and boarded a ship that looked enough like a fighter to be mistaken for one. It was actually a UESA Intelligence craft, designed with the best in stealth technology. He boarded it, and took off with the rest of the fighters. He followed a dropship into the planet's atmosphere, acting like one of the guard fighters. When the dropship landed, he took off for the research center in the same part of the City as the Capitol Building. He landed where the HQ wouldn't see him, and rushed to the research building. He sneaked in, and quickly located the room he needed. He found an intact computer, already open on the exact file he came for. He set up his personal data holder, and began to transfer the file, and all data related to it. It would take a while, so he hoped to God no rebel managed to get to the building before he left.

"Captain, that last missile did a number on our starboard shields. Efficacy is down by 74%. I'd suggest using port side to take any punches from now on. Nearby teams are already on-site but it seems as if they're having trouble. I've done all I can from Engineering HQ, so I'll be heading over myself. I'll keep the bridge posted, Kathy out."
@Lord Coake

Kathy was starting to feel an odd thrill; a strange mix of adrenaline, eagerness to test herself, and to push herself harder than she's ever worked before. She quickly grabbed her personal work bag and assigned tool box, had another engineer take over her console, and quickly made her way over to the damaged section.

Upon arrival, Kathy stood and stared in shocked silence. She didn't know what wrong turn she took, but she had descended into a tiny pocket of hell. The first thing that got her was the smell. Smoke from fried electronics, burnt flesh and fear. Then the sounds of electrical discharges and human cries of pain and anguish. Everything was dark except for the intermittent glow of red warning lights. In those illuminated seconds, all she saw was a stop-motion world of black and red with panicked figures running about.

Holding up her communicator, Kathy whispered
"Sickbay, we need someone, anyone over here in Starboard Deck 11 Block 5. There are multiple injured. I.. I'm not qualified to assess how bad the situation is, but it's bad. Kathy out."
@Didos

Kathy grit her teeth and forced herself to move. Grabbing some nearby engineers, they set to work.