Near the Stargate

The nimble insects swerve through the air with uncanny agility, evading the first burst of rapid gunfire almost entirely; in addition to the one Forsythe grazed, another nearly loses its tail to Bishop's twin shots. Both of the injured veer off, not having lost their will to fight but having lost some of their flying ability.

The remaining six gang up on Lockley and Forsythe. The lieutenant's training kicks in as he tries to fend off the bugs, but one of them manages to land on his back and sink its stinger-tail into his side, causing lancing pain and a trickle of blood. Forsythe just manages to bat away the creature that tried to land at her, but she's nearly surrounded by the trio of angry insects.


Insect 1 landing vs Lockley hand-to-hand combat
Insect 4 landing vs Forsythe hand-to-hand combat

LT James Lockley


"ARRGGHH!!!" Lockley yells a the stinger goes in. He knock the bug to the ground and fires another burst into it. James pull tries not to mess with the stinger as he finds another target to fire at.

• Forsyth
  Dice Roll: 1d8
  d8 Results: 1
  
  S.A.W.
• Ashton
  Dice Roll: 1d8
  d8 Results: 1
  
  G-36

Forsyth aims her weapon a little ahead of the one circling her and Lockley. The 5.56 mm rounds rip through it's body. Ashton takes a controled shot and fires a single 5.56 round through another target.

"Contact," Lockley says over the radio, "The bugs got mad instead of ran."

Bishop curses under his breath, at least he had time to put together those base medkits. Though he may not be equipped to handle giant ass wasp stings.

As if choreographed both he and Pumphrey make slight turns for better angles and let their weapons fill the air with mock thunder. But the bobbing and weaving nature of the agitated insects makes them exceedingly difficult targets to draw a bead on, both soldiers fire wide. Leaving the wasps unharmed.

Bishop curses again, this time using one of the few Inuit phrases he picked up as a kid. It alluded to the unpleasantness of the wasps mother.

Assuming Pumphrey is the d10 as his is the first name, let me know if that is not the case.

Bishop:
Dice Roll: 1d8
d8 Results: 7

The Pumpster:
Dice Roll: 1d10
d10 Results: 7

While the last two shots miss, the targeted wasp-like creatures fly off, apparently sufficiently cowed by the display. Pumphrey and Ashton cover the perimeter while Forsythe, being nearest to the lieutenant, works her way across the open space to take a look at the dead creature which still has its stinger embedded in Lockley's side. "Best not to touch that, sir," she warns. "We'll carry you back to the rings."

By the time the four other soldiers have lugged Lockley back to the transport rings, the wound site has already started to swell and turn an awful pink-purple mix. Bishop ends up holding the limp body of the dead insect, which oozes ichor all over his hands--fortunately, the stuff seems to be non-toxic on contact. Forsythe jams the activation button with one booted foot, and in a flash the group is back in camp. Now it's a long, cold carry back up to the Medical tent...

LT James Lockley

"No take it out!" Lockley orders, "If it is anything like the Wasp of home it will be pumping poission into me!"

These are the last words Lockley manages to get out before his eyes roll back and he passes out. Pumphrey manages to catch his weight before he collapses into the muck or snow.

Captain Micheal Wantanabe

"Get everyone back," The ranger radios with a grumpy sigh. The mission did not go as planned--a usual problem with joint forces, but something this team was going to have to get over. "I'll meet you in medical in 5 mikes for de-brief."

There is a flash of light as the group of armed and ready soldiers and scientists arrives up north. The first order of business is the ceremonial ditching of the parkas, extra clothing layers, and extra accoutrements that might serve to accelerate the process of sweating to a pile of goo. Once those are safely stowed in the single unoccupied tent staged in the middle of the sonic barriers, the group makes ready to carry out their planned mission.

Everyone breaks out into a sweat, including the perpetually cold Sarah, and she mutters to herself as she shrugs out of as much of the extra clothing as she dares. Despite the heat she leaves on her long sleeved shirt, as much a form of protection from the sun as from any small, nuisance insects that may prove a greater nuisance later with any alien diseases they may carry. "Only thing that is going to be worse than this sudden heating is going to be the sudden freezing when we have to head back down tonight," she complains under her breath. The sweat is beading on her forehead and between that and the increased humidity, her already curly red hair begins to curl further, forming whispy curls at her temples. Grumbling, she quickly grabs her hair into a ponytail and twists it into a bun.

'Stripped down' and with her pack stashed in the tent, Sarah heads over towards the Stargate, as a moth drawn to a flame. She stands before it for some time, staring, afraid to approach further.

Friedrich looks over the area, a light-looking backpack that he's still carrying, but otherwise he's down to a plain green t-shirt and pants, with the M-24 that was assembled for him slung over his shoulder. In each pocket he has ammunition tightly rolled up to stop them from jingling, and a pair of canteens hang off of his belt.

The sweat is already pouring off of him, his time in Indiana having thickened his blood, but he's determined not to gripe about the heat. Instead he simply shrugs his shoulders and looks much more militant and disciplined than anyone likely suspected of him.