CaptainBritton

Foreign Legion - First Contact is First Contract

"Careful, it's in his fuckin' ass." Beckett said as he helped load Park on to the litter. Beckett followed the litter as far as he could as Park was carried off. His intent was to keep the medical crew covered, giving them as much 360 security as one man could give in such a scenario, but he wasn't much considering he was more concerned with the wellbeing of his SL. But as Park disappeared behind an armored ambulance ramp, Beckett relaxed, clearing his lungs of air slowly.

Beckett shed his blue nitrile gloves quickly as Park was taken away, no longer necessitating his aid. He placed the balled up gloves into a waste compartment on his aid bag, before slinging it again. He hugged the wall again, bringing his rifle which had been hanging at its sling back to his hands. He gripped the pistol grip ever more tight as rounds ate entire chunks out of the wall nearby. His helmet sat slightly couched on his head as another round swallowed a chunk of wall and then the ground. His reaction was simply to cower with even more urgency than before.

As Vogel gave their orders, Beckett let a deep exhale and did a quick brass-check of his rifle. Not a single shot fired yet. It likely wouldn't stay that way. Vogel eventually appeared in front of the corpsman, with his inquiry. “how is Sergeant Park? How was his injury? Will he be back anytime soon?” Beckett adjusted the rifle in his arms, cradling it as he formulated his thoughts, rolling his tongue in his dry mouth.

"He'll be fine, wound looked okay, I cleaned it up best I could, now it's up to the docs. He won't be back today, that's for sure." Beckett clarified.

Star Wars - Galaxies at War[MULTIVERSE SPACESHIP RP]

---

July 17th, 2552
???? hrs
Area unknown...

"What the hell happened?" His words fell flat against the silence. The planet in front of them was not the lush green anymore. It was not Sigma Octanus IV. This planet was deep blue. Commander Jefferson looked down and forward, to where the helmsman and navigator/sensors operator sat. The two crewmen sat stunned, the navigator slowly dragged a thumb across her touch console. The location had no match, no nearby location beacons.

"Captain, we aren't anywhere the sensors recognize." She communicated, motioning to the helmsman to break out the physical star charts. And poring over them, there was nothing. "These constellations don't even make sense, there's nothing like this on any of our charts-" She was cut off.

The communications specialist to Jefferson's left urgently made his information known, above all else. "Multiple transmissions incoming, recognized as UEG English." Jefferson responded. "Play them."

"Atlantis, this is Sheppard, you miss us?" soon cut to static, making way for, "This is Valtrix Ornus, captain of the Renatus speaking. I ask that you state your identities, intentions, and worlds of origin."

Jefferson began to speak up to his bridge crew, but was cut off, "I also ask that you refrain from firing upon each other or myself. While I'd like to settle this peacefully, I will not hesitate to unleash the full might of this vessel upon you should things get out of hand."

Another dark silence cloaked the CIC. Jefferson made a telephone motion to the communications specialist, who nodded. Jefferson picked up the communications receiver wired into his chair, pressing it to the side of his face, couching his peaked cap slightly. "This is the United Nations Space Command destroyer Kearsarge, hailing from Earth on behalf of the Unified Earth Government. Am I to take the addendum as a threat to a military vessel in the service of Earth and her people?" Jefferson let the question hang in the air as he slowly placed the receiver back on its dock.

Star Wars - Galaxies at War[MULTIVERSE SPACESHIP RP]

---

July 17th, 2552
2100 hrs
In orbit around Sigma Octanus IV...

Eerily, silently, streaks of yellow light and flame streaked across the battlefield like bolts of lightning, the three-hundred-sixty degree camera monitors showing a fleet enraged, firing off all at once, towards an enemy so unfathomably far away, a fleet which had scarce noticed them until the heat of forty-eight vessels charging weapons had alerted them.

"Green light. Fire it, Lieutenant." The cool voice broke the tension in the Combat Information Center (CIC) of the Kearsarge. All eyes were on the Captain as his order echoed in complete silence. The fire control officer, one Lieutenant Atkins, murmured an acknowledgement, and flipped the cover to the ignition button, before depressing a thumb to it. Every circuit and wire in the ship seemed to whine, the electricity giving an awful din, its own battlecry, drawing and building towards something. And the ship shook, violently, a motion counteracted quickly by an inertial dampener and maneuver thrusters, but not unfelt by the crew. And suddenly, a twisting arc of electricity spun around their bow, and the MACs at the fore shot yellow, first one and then the other.

The Captain's eyes traced the screens above, assessing the impact of the combined assault. Far off, plumes of purple and thick black gas gave a characteristic thermal signature. Hit.

"Get us mobile, prepare to evade incoming." The helmsman complied, bringing the stick around, as the thrusters spun to compensate and the hull groaned. "Klein." The Captain spoke to a screen showing a separate section of the Kearsarge, showing none other than Lieutenant Commander Klein at a station similar to the Captain's own chair. "Bring the Archers online, counterfire as soon as they're up." Klein nodded, acknowledging with a murmur. "Jawohl, Kapitan." It came back with static. Plasma interference.

"Plasma torps fore-starboard, turning to evade!" The helmsman cried, bringing the stick back around again, the vessel stressing with the sudden change of heading. Suddenly, a shadow began to creep in the path of closing plasma as hot as miniature suns. The Cradle.

At the moment when the fleet was at its most vulnerable, scrambling to leave its packed-tight checkerboard formation into a spread out battle line, the Cradle, the massing hulk of a mobile repair station had thrown itself to the front, acting as a shield to the UNSC fleet. It did not fare well. The shadow was broken by purple explosions and jets of fire and debris. The Cradle snapped at three different points, before shattering into a million shards of space trash.

It had bought time, that was what mattered. The fleet had spread out, and began to recharge its MACs, now releasing swarms of Archer missiles. As the Cradle's husk drifted away, the Kearsarge had both main guns back online and had sent thirty-two Archer missiles out, simple thermal seekers. The Covenant fleet was in rags and ruin. The first salvo had brought most of the enemy shields offline, and the second equally strong salvo sent at least a dozen of the foe to Hell.

The enemy now were free to retaliate, and the sensors on the Kearsarge lit up with two-dozen new contacts. Seraphs, the small, maneuverable fighter-bombers which could scarce be dispatched by point-defense. They'd picked their target, and the Kearsarge lit up, spinning out a grid of point-defense fire along all sides, a wall of flak. But perhaps it was not enough, or the Seraphs simply outranged the turrets, as forty-eight plasma torpedoes flew true. Commander Jefferson was sure this was the end, as it had been for dozens, even hundreds of other UNSC ships, swarmed by fighters with which they could not contend.

By all means, the blinding light and burning heat should have cleaved the Kearsarge in threes as it had the Cradle. But this light was different. The ship had not melted to a pulp, nor split at its keel. No, before them laid vast, empty darkness, planets and a sun some distance away. Not Sigma Octanus. The crew was silent for what felt like an eternity. The Captain sat, jaw hanging open.

"What the hell just happened?"

Star Wars - Galaxies at War[MULTIVERSE SPACESHIP RP]

Kearsarge

Name of Ship: UNSC Kearsarge (DD-362)
Home Universe/Name of Franchise: Halo
Ship Class: Halberd-class Destroyer
Role: Combatant Escort/Frigate Hunter
Namesake: USS Kearsarge
Length: 485 meters
Beam/Width: 40 meters
Air Draft/Height: 70 meters
Displacement/Weight: approx. 1.8 million metric tons (fully loaded)
Crew Size: 310 (250 sailors, 50 Marines, 10 ODSTs)

Armament:

• Mark IV, 14B11R2 MAC Battery - A set of twin-linked Magnetic Accelerator Cannons, massive coilguns firing multi-ton ferromagnetic slugs. Comprised of a spinally-mounted 1170mm/46” MAC and a lower boom-mounted 647mm/25” MAC. Can be fired independently of one-another.
• 26x M58 Archer Vertical Launch Tubes - Twenty-six missile tubes located along sections of the hull. They launch the Archer missile type, and hold eight missiles in each tube. Each Archer type missile can be configured with specific warhead types, ranging from anti-ship, ground attack, and others. 800 individual Archer missiles are stored within the ship’s magazines.
• 3x Shiva Tactical Nuke Delivery Systems - A nuclear weapon mounted to an Archer type missile. The warhead is variable-yield, as is normal for most UNSC-produced tactical devices, and varies from 0.8 kilotons of destructive force to 800 kilotons of destructive force. Usually all three devices are stored in the aft magazine, the most difficult ammo store to hit.
• 4x M870 Rampart Point Defense Guns - Point defense guns commonly found on intermediate-size UNSC vessels. They consist of two twin-linked 50mm autocannons, a 30mm CIWS mount, and a laser bank. Their primary purpose is to engage incoming missiles and hostile small craft, but can engage vessels even up to corvette in size provided they are in close range.

Complement:

• 2x D77-TC Pelican Dropship - The Kearsarge has an extremely enclosed flight deck, thus its only aircraft complement is two D77 Pelican VTOL transports. In the context of a destroyer, they are used in a capacity of anti-ship warfare (by means of mine-laying), special warfare insertions (of the Marine complement or any operators hitching a ride), ground support missions (by inserting the Marines planetside or hauling supplies), and reconnaissance. The models stored on the Kearsarge are armed with a 40mm chin-mounted autocannon, a ramp-mounted M427H .50 Heavy Machine Gun, and a door-mounted M247T 7.62x51mm General Purpose Machine Gun. The troop bays can hold ten people in folding jump seats, and ten more standing and holding to a deployable hand bar.
• 4x M12 Warthog Force Application Vehicles - The Kearsarge has four M12 Warthogs in its vehicle bay. Though usually neglected in everyday operations, these quick and maneuverable vehicles are perfect for cruising both the expanse of barren planets and conventional roadways. Though these base models are not equipped with weapons by default, weaponry from the ship’s armory can be fitted quite easily by the ship’s armourers.
• 50x Marines - The Marines aboard the Kearsarge are not simply infantry Marines for the purpose of landing and taking the fight to the enemy, these Marines are part of a component of a ship’s crew called a Marine Detachment, a commonality especially during the Human-Covenant War. On smaller and intermediate vessels, this unit comprises a reinforced platoon of Marines charged with security of the ship’s command staff (especially the captain), operating the brig, maintaining order and security aboard the vessel, and performing ceremonial duties. Of these, there is a platoon of 2nd Battalion, 32nd Marines (Reserve) (2/32) with an attached squad from the battalion’s weapons company.
• 10x Orbital Drop Shock Troopers - Serving alongside the reservist Marines of the Marine Detachment is a Marine Special Purpose Force consisting of a squad of ODSTs. Though the vessel does not normally carry SOEIV pods, a set of twenty has been stocked and can be deployed from the M58 Archer tubes.

History of the Ship: The UNSC Kearsarge was ordered in 2515 as the third ship in its class, alongside five other Halberds which were to be the first Halberd-staffed Destroyer Squadron. The UNSC at the time had ordered the newly designed Halberd-class due to the increasing intensity of the Insurrection in the Colonies, and needed a combatant escort due to the brazen attacks of both civilian and military transports by rebel pirates. The Kearsarge itself was formally commissioned at SinoViet Yard AS-9 in orbit of Reach in August 2517.

Its first deployments were alongside Colonial Military Administration supply and troop transportation convoys through Outer Colony space. Its actions were limited, as the imposing armaments of the Halberds often dissuaded would-be pirates, who only primarily had corvettes and frigates, or even simple armed freighter barges. The spark of the Human-Covenant War would be the true test of the Kearsarge and its crew, as it would be part of the Destroyer Squadron of Vice Admiral Preston Cole’s fleet at the Second Battle of Harvest, in which it narrowly avoided destruction, being heavily damaged (which is the most it can say as it was one of four surviving destroyers of an original eleven).

Serviced at Reach, it was turned back loose with Cole’s fleet and went on to serve in multiple engagements including the Battles of Charybdis XI, Algolis, and Psi Serpentis, the latter of which it narrowly escaped and had to be heavily serviced. Now newly repaired and refitted with the best weapons in its class, it has mysteriously vanished off of the UNSC nets en-route to Sigma Octanus IV.

Notable Crew:

CDR Samuel Jefferson

Likeness above.

Commander Samuel Ronald Jefferson is the current commanding officer of the UNSC Kearsarge. He holds the billet of O-5 / Commander in the UNSC Navy, a semi-senior officer rank that allows command of a small to intermediate size vessel. He was born on Earth in the upstate portion of the State of New York in the United Republic of North America (URNA). He is a distinguished graduate of the Marian Academy of Military Science (named for Gaius Marius) at Mare Nubium, Luna, and has held commands primarily as a line officer aboard cruisers. He took command of the Kearsarge in 2548 as his second ship command.

LTCDR Eckhart Klein

Likeness above.

Lieutenant Commander Eckhart Klein is the current executive officer and second-in-command of the UNSC Kearsarge. He holds the billet of O-4 / Lieutenant Commander in the UNSC Navy, and is a semi-senior officer. He is an Earth native as well, hailing from the United German Republic in the European Union. He is from a wealthy German family of corporate moguls, and attended the prestigious Marcellus Academy of Military Science (named for Marcus Claudius Marcellus) in the Highland Mountains of Reach. He transferred in with Commander Jefferson in 2548.

Unique Technology

• Magnetic Accelerator Cannons
• Single Occupant Exoatmospheric Insertion Vehicle or ‘Drop Pod’
• Shaw-Fujikawa Translight Drive

Red Dead Potential: A Western RP

Color me interested.

Star Wars - Galaxies at War[MULTIVERSE SPACESHIP RP]

Kearsarge

Name of Ship: UNSC Kearsarge (DD-362)
Home Universe/Name of Franchise: Halo
Ship Class: Halberd-class Destroyer
Role: Combatant Escort/Frigate Hunter
Namesake: USS Kearsarge
Length: 485 meters
Beam/Width: 40 meters
Air Draft/Height: 70 meters
Displacement/Weight: approx. 1.8 million metric tons (fully loaded)
Crew Size: 310 (250 sailors, 50 Marines, 10 ODSTs)

Armament:

• Mark IV, 14B11R2 MAC Battery - A set of twin-linked Magnetic Accelerator Cannons, massive coilguns firing multi-ton ferromagnetic slugs. Comprised of a spinally-mounted 1170mm/46” MAC and a lower boom-mounted 647mm/25” MAC. Can be fired independently of one-another.
• 26x M58 Archer Vertical Launch Tubes - Twenty-six missile tubes located along sections of the hull. They launch the Archer missile type, and hold eight missiles in each tube. Each Archer type missile can be configured with specific warhead types, ranging from anti-ship, ground attack, and others. 800 individual Archer missiles are stored within the ship’s magazines.
• 3x Shiva Tactical Nuke Delivery Systems - A nuclear weapon mounted to an Archer type missile. The warhead is variable-yield, as is normal for most UNSC-produced tactical devices, and varies from 0.8 kilotons of destructive force to 800 kilotons of destructive force. Usually all three devices are stored in the aft magazine, the most difficult ammo store to hit.
• 4x M870 Rampart Point Defense Guns - Point defense guns commonly found on intermediate-size UNSC vessels. They consist of two twin-linked 50mm autocannons, a 30mm CIWS mount, and a laser bank. Their primary purpose is to engage incoming missiles and hostile small craft, but can engage vessels even up to corvette in size provided they are in close range.

Complement:

• 2x D77-TC Pelican Dropship - The Kearsarge has an extremely enclosed flight deck, thus its only aircraft complement is two D77 Pelican VTOL transports. In the context of a destroyer, they are used in a capacity of anti-ship warfare (by means of mine-laying), special warfare insertions (of the Marine complement or any operators hitching a ride), ground support missions (by inserting the Marines planetside or hauling supplies), and reconnaissance. The models stored on the Kearsarge are armed with a 40mm chin-mounted autocannon, a ramp-mounted M427H .50 Heavy Machine Gun, and a door-mounted M247T 7.62x51mm General Purpose Machine Gun. The troop bays can hold ten people in folding jump seats, and ten more standing and holding to a deployable hand bar.
• 4x M12 Warthog Force Application Vehicles - The Kearsarge has four M12 Warthogs in its vehicle bay. Though usually neglected in everyday operations, these quick and maneuverable vehicles are perfect for cruising both the expanse of barren planets and conventional roadways. Though these base models are not equipped with weapons by default, weaponry from the ship’s armory can be fitted quite easily by the ship’s armourers.
• 50x Marines - The Marines aboard the Kearsarge are not simply infantry Marines for the purpose of landing and taking the fight to the enemy, these Marines are part of a component of a ship’s crew called a Marine Detachment, a commonality especially during the Human-Covenant War. On smaller and intermediate vessels, this unit comprises a reinforced platoon of Marines charged with security of the ship’s command staff (especially the captain), operating the brig, maintaining order and security aboard the vessel, and performing ceremonial duties. Of these, there is a platoon of 2nd Battalion, 32nd Marines (Reserve) (2/32) with an attached squad from the battalion’s weapons company.
• 10x Orbital Drop Shock Troopers - Serving alongside the reservist Marines of the Marine Detachment is a Marine Special Purpose Force consisting of a squad of ODSTs. Though the vessel does not normally carry SOEIV pods, a set of twenty has been stocked and can be deployed from the M58 Archer tubes.

History of the Ship: The UNSC Kearsarge was ordered in 2515 as the third ship in its class, alongside five other Halberds which were to be the first Halberd-staffed Destroyer Squadron. The UNSC at the time had ordered the newly designed Halberd-class due to the increasing intensity of the Insurrection in the Colonies, and needed a combatant escort due to the brazen attacks of both civilian and military transports by rebel pirates. The Kearsarge itself was formally commissioned at SinoViet Yard AS-9 in orbit of Reach in August 2517.

Its first deployments were alongside Colonial Military Administration supply and troop transportation convoys through Outer Colony space. Its actions were limited, as the imposing armaments of the Halberds often dissuaded would-be pirates, who only primarily had corvettes and frigates, or even simple armed freighter barges. The spark of the Human-Covenant War would be the true test of the Kearsarge and its crew, as it would be part of the Destroyer Squadron of Vice Admiral Preston Cole’s fleet at the Second Battle of Harvest, in which it narrowly avoided destruction, being heavily damaged (which is the most it can say as it was one of four surviving destroyers of an original eleven).

Serviced at Reach, it was turned back loose with Cole’s fleet and went on to serve in multiple engagements including the Battles of Charybdis XI, Algolis, and Psi Serpentis, the latter of which it narrowly escaped and had to be heavily serviced. Now newly repaired and refitted with the best weapons in its class, it has mysteriously vanished off of the UNSC nets en-route to Sigma Octanus IV.

Notable Crew:

CDR Samuel Jefferson

Likeness above.

Commander Samuel Ronald Jefferson is the current commanding officer of the UNSC Kearsarge. He holds the billet of O-5 / Commander in the UNSC Navy, a semi-senior officer rank that allows command of a small to intermediate size vessel. He was born on Earth in the upstate portion of the State of New York in the United Republic of North America (URNA). He is a distinguished graduate of the Marian Academy of Military Science (named for Gaius Marius) at Mare Nubium, Luna, and has held commands primarily as a line officer aboard cruisers. He took command of the Kearsarge in 2548 as his second ship command.

LTCDR Eckhart Klein

Likeness above.

Lieutenant Commander Eckhart Klein is the current executive officer and second-in-command of the UNSC Kearsarge. He holds the billet of O-4 / Lieutenant Commander in the UNSC Navy, and is a semi-senior officer. He is an Earth native as well, hailing from the United German Republic in the European Union. He is from a wealthy German family of corporate moguls, and attended the prestigious Marcellus Academy of Military Science (named for Marcus Claudius Marcellus) in the Highland Mountains of Reach. He transferred in with Commander Jefferson in 2548.

Unique Technology

• Magnetic Accelerator Cannons
• Single Occupant Exoatmospheric Insertion Vehicle or ‘Drop Pod’
• Shaw-Fujikawa Translight Drive

Victory: The Cost of Freedom (Cancelled)

So, about that discord? I don't mean to push, but I find having a discord which I can quickly communicate in to be pretty useful.

Victory: The Cost of Freedom (Cancelled)

Sample

"-So list, bonnie laddie, n' come to war wi' me!" The tune rang out from the pub window gracefully, the picking of strings and the moving line of the standing bass. He of course hadn't had the pocket change to even reason going inside, the interior of the bar glowing orange and emanating cheers and jeers from all its patrons, while there he sat, to the wet curb. He glanced to his watch, its cheap, cracked glass partially obscuring the still-functioning hands as he struggled to make out the time. Half past ten.

He'd been at the docks until half an hour ago, a kid that had no business being there but still was offered a few pence to hard pack Bedfords and set riggings on cranes. He'd been too gangly and skinny to do the most of the heavy lifting, but he'd earned the few coins that rattled in his pocket. It was all you could find as a job nowadays, after all Glasgow was a trade city. Damn near depended on the River Clyde, and every canal and tributary that snaked out towards the North Atlantic.

He continued to jangle the change in his pocket as he sat upon the curb. The music from the bar had since stopped, but the patrons had become even more boisterous in the absence of entertainment. He looked around the street, his eyes well-adjusted to the darkness and dimmed street lamps. Adjusted enough to catch the silhouette of a figure darting through the alley across from him. Then two figures, and a third.

"Cameron! Al Cameron!" The harsh voice called from the shadows, an unmistakable shrill call. Three boys- that wasn't right, these were men, practically, with how built they were. They spoke and chattered in a tinged accent- was it Irish? They revealed themselves in clothes as ragged as his own, and two wielded clubs of wood, with the smallest one, which appeared to be the leader, clutching a straightbladed razor. Cameron looked on in fear as the three figures now surged the cobblestone street towards him. Every option flashed through his head, but the one that won out was simply to run.

Jumping up from the curb, Cameron turned to consider his options. An alley, to his left. Risk of a dead end. Open street to the right, his only chance would be that a policeman might be about at this time. Unlikely. He looked ahead, at the almost full-to-overflowing pub, and he dashed through the doors as a razor nearly met his back.

Within, he found the scene common all over Glasgow on any working night. The bar was packed full of stout working men, he'd recognized some of them. Dock workers, meat packers, steelworkers, everybody who had pence to spare on a brew. He glanced back, noting that his pursuers had not followed him inside. Now, only to hang about and avoid being noticed. He snaked his lanky self through the groupings of men, seeking out the backrooms. They were always such good places to hide. Full of cleaning supplies, yes, but you could be assured they wouldn't look there until last call.

Soon enough, a thick Scots voice called from almost across the bar. "Lad, laddie!" The warm voice beckoned, drawing Cameron's eyes to trace it. And sure enough, at the edge of the room, a table had been pulled aside, a man in a sharp uniform seated rigid at it, a feathered Highland bonnet atop his head. It was clear he'd called specifically out to Cameron. Cameron reluctantly considered his options, before trudging over towards the table which seemed to be devoid of all other people, almost as if they were afraid of it.

"How old are ye, lad?" The man bore an elegant mustache and an air of authority around him, his voice carrying long across the room, even over the other patrons. Ah, he was a recruiting sergeant. Three chevrons upon his shoulder, and a bound notebook on the table in front of him.

"Seventeen, sir." Cameron stated.

"Ah, splendid, laddie. I'm frae the Firs' Battalion, 42nd Regiment, th' Black Watch. Crown's lookin' fer lads t' fill th' rankin's. 'S honest, twa shillin's a day." The recruiter continued, fidgeting with his pen in one hand.

Two shillings caught Cameron off guard. He'd always heard the Army didn't pay for shite, but two shillings wasn't nothing considering he walked home with forty pence a day at the docks. It wasn't a hard pass, but he did consider it a moment, inquiring.

"Territorial?"

"Nay, Regulars. Twa shillin's a day, twa more if they send ye off." The recruiter answered honestly.

His mind raced. The possibility of four shillings per day was insane. Tailors and shopkeeps might've had that to spare, but only the strongest and fastest of the dock workers got close to that on the daily. Certainly nothing he'd ever get on the outside.

"Think we'd be goin' off?" Cameron questioned earnestly, an ever-widening deadzone of people forming between the recruiting table and the bar's patrons.

"Not a chance, old Adolph's gettin' his outside the battlefield."

"Right, where d' I sign?" The recruiter smiled behind his mustache, pushing the book over and opening it to a contract. He offered the pen, which Cameron took and glided across the parchment, scratching out his horrific excuse for a signature.

The recruiter closed the book, binding it back with a leather strap. "Report t' Fort George barracks within' th' week. Army stipend'll cover th' train." The recruiter instructed, nodding. "N' what'd you say yer name was, laddie?"

"Alastair Cameron." He beamed.

Victory: The Cost of Freedom

Interested.

Foreign Legion - First Contact is First Contract

Beckett, quiet as he was at the spectacle of engineering the place was, had failed to say anything the entire ride. His positions was furthest from the door, safe enough for a combat medic he had figured. His mind was constantly occupied as they rode in the vehicle which rolled and bobbed like a ship on the ocean - a feeling he was not unfamiliar with - yet it was still nauseating all the same. As it bobbed, he reflected back on his assignment. Fighting for aliens was one thing, but he was a combat medic amongst few Humans. What was he supposed to do if one of these squishy fuckers got hit? What then? Would morphine even work? Another time, perhaps, because there didn't seem to be any of them around here now.

Moreover, as medic, he was designated as the AT specialist as well. Who in their right mind- He ceased that thought, exhaling sharply, looking to the racks where his AT implement was lashed. A MAAWS, a Gustaf or 'Goose' as it's affectionately called, not to mention the ammo bag it came with. The thing felt nearly as heavy as the weapon itself, no matter how many spare rounds he'd tried to push off onto other squad mates with any extra space. He'd counted out what he thought he'd need for a MOUT scenario like this one. At least three HEDP (High Explosive Dual Purpose), the be-all end-all of most combat scenarios, able to shear through infantry formations, light vehicles, and civilian constructed buildings. Accompanied was two HEAT (High Explosive Anti-Tank) warheads for any looming armor threat, with a superplastic jet of copper liquifying the crew and equipment inside most armored vehicles. Last but not least, considering the terrain, he'd placed in a single round of Area Denial Munition, a flat, cylindrical warhead packed with tiny copper balls which expanded outwards like a shotgun blast when fired. Perfect for wiping away a formation of infantry, even could be used through thin walls.

As much of a bitch it all was to carry, he had scammed a couple of the other squad members out of their pack space. Two HEDP were passed around, as was a single HEAT warhead. It left one of each for Beckett to carry and utilize in a pinch. He'd passed the field qualification with it, so who better? But that was musings which now were long past.

They were in the thick of it, to say the least, the stench of sulfur and gunpowder invading Beckett's nostrils and mouth, leaving a metallic taste on his tongue. He had the foresight to at the least uncover his SWD goggles, securing them down over his green eyes. He glanced around, hadn't even fired a shot. They were waiting as their friendlies were engaged left, right, and center. And not only that, they were being targeted, as evidenced by the spray of shrapnel and dust which first alerted the incoming rounds. He recovered as projectile dust pattered off his fatigues and scraped along his goggles and helmet. No metal in it, thank God.

Then the second round snapped, closer, a bigger shower of metal in with dust now, the small fragments losing most of their velocity before impacting around him. He heard someone cry out, not over net. He thumped his headset as he glanced about, keeping his head low and concealing himself entirely within cover. His eyes set on Sergeant Park, slumped over and a small pooling of blood forming at his derrière. His HK was dropped to hang by its sling at his side, as Beckett moved over at a low crouch, using his hands to speed his movements. Once arrived he affirmed to the SL. "I'm here, I'm here!" Beckett used gloved hands to bunch his sleeves up at the forearms, reaching quickly into a PALS loop on his carrier, pulling an olive green square packet with a red cross and black stenciled letters.

"Right, Sarge, gonna need you to drop your trousers!"