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Jacob Had just stowed his rifle case when the order came over the PA. Almost on que a Lt. Commander came over with orders.
"Morrison, St.Piere, Daniels, Masterson! Snap to!" The four marines hopped to their feet. "Your on the first flights down. You are now Charlie Company, Fire Team Zulu. Masterson, You are technically ranking officer but you answer to command, you got me Sea-Soldier?"
"Sir, Yes Sir!" Jacob barked.
"Good, Report to Romeo-204 for your flight."
The marines saluted and headed for the bird. Once on board Jacob got to know his team.
"I'm Sergeant Jacob Masterson, I'll be your designated marksman for this op."
"Nice to meet you Sarge, I'm PFC Gorge Morrison, Rifleman."
"I'm Private James St.Piere, Heavy Demo."
"I'm PFC Frank Daniels, CQC."
The team looked the part but if they encountered trouble on the surface Jacob did not feel overly confident. These marines were hot-off-the-press green. Probably had nothing more than simulations, and FPS video games for experience. If things got hot down there this team probably would not be heading home, except in a pine box.
The Bird filled up fast and soon Romeo-204 was ready for lift-off.

Captain Malcolm "Bulltrue" Hoban
> D77H-TCI ROMEO-204
>> Going for a Ride

Throughout Bay 2 the hatches were sealed and personnel were evacuated. The flight deck was now, nearly empty. The only distractions from the otherwise vacant bay were three D77H-TCI aircraft. The Pelicans sat in a row, one behind the other. The Armored Prayer's second Hanger Bay was located along the starboard lateral hull. Each Hanger bay was composed of several compartments, each housing three Pelicans, save for the last compartment which housed a single Pelican. The three in this compartment were Oscar 106, Romeo 204, and Kilo 25. Each bird was kept in place above the deck by docking clamps. Capt. Malcolm "Bulltrue" Hoban sat at the controls of his bird and ran the last of the pre-flight checks. Without so much as a word he ran through the pre-flight checklist once again. He turned his head slightly and spoke to his friend and co-pilot Simon "Kelvin" Washburn.
"How are we lookin'?"
"Greener n' the kids we got in the back."
Hoban nodded and caressed the throttle gently. CWO Baldwin pushed his way into the cockpit and closed the hatch behind him. His helmet's visor was depolarized and his brow furrowed.
"Don't get nervous guys, but we've got brass in the back. Looks like a Spartan though."
"Can't do anything about it now. Just sit tight Jayne."
The Chief Warrant Officer sighed and polarized his helmet's visor and took his seat behind Washburn. Hoban linked the Pelican with the local UNSC battlenet and waited for the green light.
"Romeo Two-Zero-Four this is Armored Prayer Flight Control Tower, you are cleared for departure, doors open in three."
The deck plating beneath each Pelican parted as the ventral hatches opened. As the atmosphere vented, Hoban fed power to the bird's four powerful engines. Oscar 106 dropped out of the bay and passed beneath them. Hoban punched the release and Romeo 204 dropped out of the Frigate so quickly that it lifted everyone out of their seats for half a minute. For the flight crew, this was normal. They had all done drops in Pelicans before, but for anyone experiencing it for the first time, well, it wouldn't be altogether pleasant. Bulltrue pulled the control yoke, rolled and banked into a wide arc following Oscar 106's approach vector. Kilo 25 rolled into position behind him. The three birds nosed into the atmosphere and assumed a delta formation with Romeo 204 in the lead.

The Pelican bucked and rolled in the upper atmosphere as flames engulfed her nose and licked her hull. Unimaginably hot fire burned just over a foot away from his face, and yet Hoban was completely absorbed with flying the craft. After all, one wrong move and they could bounce right off the gaseous layer called atmo and rebound into space. It wouldn't be a deadly mistake, just an embarrassing one. He eased back on the throttle, not wanting to burn to death entering the atmosphere of a frozen planet. Within a minute they were through. Below them lay miles and miles of dirt, ice, snow, and rubble. A carpet of thick clouds obscured most of the planet's surface, which had expanded significantly due to ice encroaching on Harvest's oceans. He angled the nose up slightly to make for a more comfortable ride in the back. He didn't want to have to clean puke out of the blood tray. The trio of Pelicans were soon joined by twenty more from the other UNSC ships. They were followed by Albatross transports and the two Pods from the Amnesty of God. In all, fifty aircraft were flying in formation. Moments later Romeo 204 was engulfed in the clouds. The aircraft were still hot from reentry and so left gaping holes in the arctic clouds. No doubt the warmed vapor molecules would turn to snow on their way to the planet's surface. One minute seventeen seconds later and Romeo 204 burst from the bottom of the cloud layer. A flurry of snow could be seen falling in every direction as far as the eye could see.
"ETA to LZ five minutes."
The ground was covered with snow, and only the occasional cliff-face broke the oppressive monotony of the nuclear winter. The Coordinates were laid in and Hoban followed the way-points. He circled the drop zone once a 100 meters then dropped to 100 feet and popped the rear hatch. A cold wind filled the troop compartment. The Marines would be fine, they were all wearing arctic gear, or at least they were supposed to be. Hoban completed one last orbit before touching down at his designated DZ.
"Good hunting Marines!"

Private Altair, Gabriel:
Harvest Landing Zone:

As the birds dropped and were making their final passes over the landing zone Gabriel looked to his squadmates, several of whom looked worried as the situation was, having come from the more 'tropical' regions they were used to warmer temperatures. He then sighed and he lifted his face covering, tapping the side of his helmet to activate the lower-end HUD and checking the waypoint as well as the IFF tags of the others. When the hatch popped and the cold winds raged inward the Private and the rest of the squad stood, making their way out after their commanding officer and with him towards one of the touched down albatross.

"Now men, this storm's going to wreak havoc with our comm systems, even with two PODS in the area. I'm going to split you up into two man units and send you out in one of the cardinal directions with a mongoose and communication's gear. Your job is to take the equipment and secure a groundhold for it exactly ten miles out, then return to me, when the mission is accomplished." The Sergeant barked to them as he cast a seeming stern eye over them, expecting nothing less than success from each of them.

Now splitting them out he would tag Gabriel with the marine he had attempted to save from Corporal Compton earlier in the day, leaving them with a general remark of the two 'Loving each other enough to fight their own war', in that loving, d**k of a way only a commanding officer could get away with. Saddling up with the communications gear Private Altair turned to Daughtrieve and a smirk crossed his face.

"Alright loverboy, I'll give you this warning now. It won't be quick, pleasurable, or even with your consent if you keep that kind of s**t up, and, if you fall off or trail off and get lost, I'm not inclined to search for you without the authorization of my commanding officer. Next, if you even think of making a snowman or snow-angel, I'll put a bullet in you, won't say where, but you won't be happy." He half-joked and implied to his partner before climbing up onto the mongoose he revved the light vehicle's engine before he would pull out of the Albatross into the snow, then letting Private Daughtrieve climb aboard and heading west.

With communications limited from the Armored Prayer or Amnesty of God's uplinks, due to the storms and thick cloud layers that moved with the winds, this option would allow them the ability to communicate up to twenty-five to thirty miles in light storming conditions, and only a possibility of ten miles if a direct blizzard clambered over them.

OoC: Here's hoping this post is acceptable and plausible under the conditions of the planet, if not PM me or edit this line to say that I need to rework it.

Lance Corporal | Jameson, Patrick
Harvest Landing Zone

Patrick watched as the other Marines got to their duties, Pat still needed to locate his squad so he ran off trying to find his CO. He help when asked but other then that he just kept on his search, it was freezing on this god forsaken planet "I wonder what kind of resorts they have here.." he giggled for a few short seconds. The Lance Corporal was relieved when he found his Commanding Officer "Sir, where do you want me?" the man turned around "Go help out the others for now!" Patrick saluted "Yessir!" The marine ran off, helping with transporting all the supplies and building the small base.

Patrick noticed Corporal Carlson, so he ran over too him "Hey, looks like we are in the same Squad.." Patrick didn't usually talk to people but he didn't show any flaws.

Sergeant Jacob Masterson
Harvest Drop Zone

Fire Team Zulu pitched in with the base set up once they were done getting their shore legs back. The flight down jarred Jacob's green leathernecks. They were to busy shaking to notice the SPARTAN looking commander leaving for some officer BS.
Once the major work was done Zulu was sent on recon. They found the edge of the cliff they were building on. The valley stretched below them like a giant gaping maw. What once was the picture of perfection was now this desolate pit. Jacob scanned the reaches of the canyon with his scope looking for anything unusual. His boys started getting restless and were talking about going back to base. As Jacob got ready to leave he saw somthing in the peripheral of his scope. Movement. He trained on the area with the 10x lens and saw no continued activity, so he took his team back to base to report and get some food.

[To whom it may concern,
I am going on a field op and therefore will be without access to a computer. I will be back online Sat. the 27 of June around 9:00 PM. I sincerely hope this will not compromise my membership in the guild.
Kindest Regards,
DSW]

Flight Captain Malcolm "Bulltrue" Hoban
> D77H-TCI ROMEO 204
>> Nice and toasty

Romeo lifted off the deck as Hoban slowly fed power to the engines. The Pelican jerked into the snowy air and went into orbit. He was due back at the Prayer for another load, but he wanted to see this. It had been a long time since the UNSC had used prefab modular fire bases. The Pod dropships touched down atop the old foundation and attached the first section of the firebase. The first transport released its cargo and rose into the air. The second touched down gently and dropped the second half of the modular base. Together the two Pods rose back into orbit and headed back to the Amnesty of God. The firebase was motionless at first, but then the components connected to the thirty-year old wiring and things began to happen. First the base was fused together by automated welding mechanisms, next the base deployed. The shielding retracted and the ramp leading to the interior dropped. Klaxons sounded and warning lights flared hotly in the frigid air. Marines with snow moving equipment stepped forward and cleared the ground around the newly established Ground HQ. The territory they cleared was actually part of the base. As soon as their work had finished the automated base systems built and deployed a reactor facility. The entire process was done by machines deep within the underground factories. A plume of blue flame shot up from the completed reactor. Next up was a pair of landing pads. The Albatross dropships continued to offload supplies via Marines, though the automated retrieval system would make their lives easier. Two barracks facilities came up next followed by an Air Traffic Control tower and a Machine shop. Hoban smiled to see such a complete base built so quickly, then turned his sights for the sky. He had work to do. The pilot fed more power to his bird's engines and clawed his way back into space. Romeo 204 was a fine bird, and it was proper that she should visit Harvest.

Corporal | Carlson, Alexander
Harvest | Alpha Base

The marines gave a quick cheer of celebration when the base was built, but then a shout of a very strict and up tight 1st Lieutenant telling them to get back to work was all they needed for it die quickly.
Carlson lead his squad to the base, he was in awe of how fast the base when up. It was rare to see these kind of base systems now, and all who had witnessed this day were obviously prevalence to see such a thing.
Harvest was inhabited once more, and once the work was done, there would be celebrations in the barracks.

He got to the Barracks with his Squad and got the information of where they were staying. Outside in the metal tents. But he didn't mind, the base would take longer to warm up then a tent. They made there way back out into the cold white wastelands and found out the supply landing pads were finished, meaning there was now less work to do, except to put up tents for what the base cannot provide.
But deep down, all he just wanted to do was get this mission started.

Jones, Bradley D.
On board the UNSC Vagabond
RFD Status: Active
Locator/ID Tag: [FST.SGT.BDJ : B-115]
Location: Elevator Lift D en route to Bridge.

The hum of the lift confused Brad somewhat. He himself, is currently on the deck of the UNSC Vagabond. Shipyard ID #: 2209.W.84374/D. But his mind for the past few hours, has been elsewhere. True, he missed the Human-Covenant War to an extent. But he also wondered what he was thinking about.

Recently, in his dreams, a blond man, standing 6"2 just stands there, in a rainstorm, looking at him. He didn't know. But he had been getting flashes of the images. Whether this was part of some... mental problem or a clue to something, he didn't know.

More strange occurances were having flashbacks from a parking garage from what looked to be the ruins of New Mombasa. He was never in New Mombasa. He never seen a parking garage since Iowa. What was this? What are these flashbacks? How is he able to stop time within his mind by just by thinking about it? What was going on?

He looked over to his right. The Lieutanant, who was quietly looking down at the floor tapping her toes on the metal ground like a patiant school girl. She was always flirtatious. he was wondering why she was so quiet. Was it the nervousness of seeing Captian Millham? Or just... him? The Lieutenant was always rough around the edges with everyone else. But to him, she let up. To him, she was nicer, and she flirted alot.

The Elevator stopped. And as the doors opened, a flash of light consumed Brad's vision... taking over his sences. And again being lost in a void.