The Home Crew

Home of Omega Company, this Conestoga class troop transport steadily prowls through the stars.
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Redds, J. H.
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Re: The Home Crew

Post by Redds, J. H. » Jul 21, 2013, 12:24 AM

Still no resistance from the routed boarding party. When Redds reached the other end of the hangar he was moving slower, more cautiously, with his shotgun trained on the umbilical. Firing it wasn’t an option, not if there was a chance of hitting the umbilical or the lock; he was guessing they were in the same situation.

...The situation. He was arriving at the lock when it really started to hit home how screwed up this situation was. All that was left of three platoons and an organic air wing were six Marines and a robot. He had to choke down the panic before it started — old habits died hard. This was worse than last time. Way worse.

He didn’t like the options much, either. No defensive capabilities, no one who could use the Omaha’s ventral railgun, no one who could fly a Cheyenne except that new synthetic, maybe. If they stayed aboard the Omaha, they wouldn’t stand a chance if the other ship was armed; on the other hand, if he took a few of the Marines on a reverse boarding action, it’d be child’s play to trap them in a compartment and vent the atmosphere. They knew nothing about territory or enemy force size, either.

And that was assuming they made it to the other ship.

The hell with it.

“Boo, Thomas! On me!” Redds shouted back, beckoning with a patchwork arm. “Stick close t’ th’ wall, they cain’t risk hittin’ th’ h’umbilical!”
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Cohen, J
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Re: The Home Crew

Post by Cohen, J » Jul 22, 2013, 11:48 AM

GM

The Marines began to advance down towards the umbilical, as their OPFOR began cycling the airlock on the other side. The outer door slid shut, and it was at this moment that the Marines got a good look at the other ship. It was another Conestoga class starship, with what looked like a patchwork job of repairs and plates welded to the outside. The hasty repair job and damage that the vessel had taken was extensive, and it was a wonder the ship was still moving. Weapons forward, it was difficult to tell if the ship could still fire the railgun or any of the missile pods, some of which appeared to be missing. The name Potkemin was prominently placed on the bow of the ship, just above a faded stencil of what had to be ship's original name. It was difficult to see at this angle, but the Marines could just barely read the original name.

Sulaco.

An announcement began to blare as the Marines moved closer towards the unbilical, alarms blaring throughout the ship.

"Attention. Fire detected aboard the ship's magazine and armory. Preparing cryo tubes for EEV ejection. All personnel proceed to EEVs immediately"

Cohen didn't pay the announcement any mind; the EEV's were behind them, and the last thing she felt like doing was abandoning the Omaha. The EEVs could be recovered later, but the presence of this ship, a legend whispered around campfires and in mess halls, was shocking to say the least. Nobody officially knew what had happened to the Sulaco after its final sighting over Fury 161, and to see it here, in the hands of pirates or slavers or whoever these guys were was very disconcerting. A massive piece of military hardware with enough weaponry to turn a planet into a nuclear fireball was now in the hands of some sort of freebooter.

"We have to take that ship" she whispered, moreso to herself than Hoban.
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Radley, B. G.
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Re: The Home Crew

Post by Radley, B. G. » Jul 22, 2013, 9:57 PM

Redds cried out to Radley to follow the wall. And so he did. His passing to the pirate body was unharassed.

Radley scrambled up to the dead pirate and pulled the corpse toward a stack of cargo. A crimson trail marked the body's trail. Radley's and Hoban's bullets had torn massive holes into the man's body and ruined his torso rig, but the articulating arm was still working. An older model, but Radley's chest rig would attach perfectly. It took some working, but the man's monster hands coupled the arm quickly. In just a moment, he'd gotten the older M56 into his hands. It was ragged, battered and in terrible shape. It felt good to hold, though. Radley quickly stripped the corpse of his extra ammunition.

The PFC threw his UTS 15 over his shoulder and came back around the cargo to see the other Marines making their way to the umbilical. Just beyond the umbilical was another Conestoga-class cruiser, older and beaten up. It was something from his memory that really brought a thought to his forward consciousness. The Sulaco, the first vessel to come into contact with the fabled xenomorphs. The famous ship that went dark years and years ago. And it was in the hands of a hostile people.

He started bringing up the rear at double time when the ship's AI came over the 1MC.

"Attention. Fire detected aboard the ship's magazine and armory. Preparing cryo tubes for EEV ejection. All personnel proceed to EEVs immediately."

"Wh't duh fuck?" Radley shouted over the klaxons. "Nah, brah! Mah ship ain't gon' down! It ain't suppose' tuh happen dat way!"
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Hoban, W.
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Re: The Home Crew

Post by Hoban, W. » Jul 24, 2013, 8:49 AM

Hoban helped Cohen after the other two, who made their move in pursuit of the fleeing targets, whoever they happened to be. As he caught up, he barely noticed that the ship that had connected itself to them on the other side of an umbilical was not, in fact, some junker or other typical vessel that pirates used to haul their sorry asses around, but a Conestoga, like theirs. He did a double take, flummoxed, and a klaxxon, not the first and likely not the last he'd hear since waking up into this mess began to sound.

A message rambled off. The standard operating procedure, ejecting the cryo tubes, etc. They'd lose everyone that hadn't already woken up. This was not turning out to be a good day. Cohen spoke, and Hoban looked to her. "We have to take that ship."

"What about the others? We're gonna lose the cryo tubes." Hoban knew he could probably override the safeties if he doubled-back. But he'd be alone. He could probably deal with the fire if he stayed, as well, but that would leave an injured Cohen, Boo, and Redds to tackle whatever the hell else they'd encounter on this ship. It could be ten or a hundred in there.

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Redds, J. H.
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Re: The Home Crew

Post by Redds, J. H. » Jul 28, 2013, 4:20 AM

(OOC: Jeez I checked this late. When you say "outer door closing" do you mean the hull door is shut and we can't get through their airlock?)
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Cohen, J
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Re: The Home Crew

Post by Cohen, J » Aug 06, 2013, 10:29 AM

(OOC: Yeah, sorry Redds. That's what I meant. However, it's not like that door is forever sealed. You've got Hoban with you after all)

GM

"It's a tough call. We've got an opportunity to fight back, but we don't know how many are there" Cohen grunted. Figuring that their enemies would try sealing off the umbilical, she gave Hoban a quick grin. The umbilical's sensors had to be detecting their implanted PDT's, and thus, would not allow the umbilical to be detached so long as living Marines were inside.

"Radley, Redds, Thomas. How are you on ammo?"

Below them, the Sulaco's hangar doors slowly grumbled open. An interceptor, a short range space superiority fighter, slid from the Sulaco's underbelly. The missile pods on the ship unfolded. These space superiority fighters weren't too dissimilar from the Cheyenne dropships used by the USCM, with the cargo and passenger compartments removed for additional weapons storage and armor. Not meant to stray far from their mother ships, these fighters were often employed to engage other fighters and dropships. Its presence could only mean one thing.

"...they're going to shoot up our EEV's. We've got two options as far as I see it, Marines. The Omaha's ordinance is locked down due to the fire; we either press into the Sulaco and take control of their point defense systems, or fall back to override the launch sequence. And possibly go up with the ship if the magazine detonates"

The option of using their own dropship was still available, of course, but without pilots, that would certainly be difficult.
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Radley, B. G.
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Re: The Home Crew

Post by Radley, B. G. » Aug 18, 2013, 10:30 AM

"It's a tough call. We've got an opportunity to fight back, but we don't know how many are there," Cohen grunted. She looked at the umbilical cord for a moment before continuing. "Radley, Redds, Thomas. How are you on ammo?"

"I got t'ree drums uh smarties, 'n' thirty double-ought,[/b]" Radley yelled. "Dis t'ing's a piece o' shit, d'ough."

One couldn't hear anything through space. A vacuum did that. But, the only what they knew something was happening to the Saluco was the vibrations. The vibrations caused enough movement to create the sound of the opening doors through the Omaha's own hanger. The sleek, haze gray shape of a interceptor loomed through the bright hangar lights. The smart gunner couldn't seem to understand what was going on? They had someone qualified to fly one of those? Is that even from the US Navy? Radley had a sudden moment of clarity. They were going to kill anyone who tried to escape.

Cohen got there as soon as Radley did. "...they're going to shoot up our EEV's. We've got two options as far as I see it, Marines. The Omaha's ordinance is locked down due to the fire; we either press into the Sulaco and take control of their point defense systems, or fall back to override the launch sequence. And possibly go up with the ship if the magazine detonates."

"Seems tuh me we should take every option," Radley said. "I c'n kill jus' fine on mah two feet. Anyone got flier experience?"
Front of Helmet, Sticker of the Louisiana Flag
Back of Armor in White Gothic Lettering, Commodum Habistus Es
Right Shin Guard in Black Sharpie, Your Ass Here with an arrow pointing downward
On Smartgun in White Chalk,
TAKE TWO OF THESE AND CALL ME IN THE MORNING

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