As expected, Richard's plan was shut down. Of course, he had never meant to purposely sacrifice himself, it was just a conversation starter of sorts. What was the old saying? It was better to have 100 daggers poised at your back than one pointed at each of your friends? Thankfully, the other members of the team made their contributions, but Richard remained silent, scratching his cleanshaven chin as he studied the ever shifting tides of battle. Only once did he pause to direct a sardonic smile and look at Jack, indicating that he did indeed know that it was a bad idea, but he swiftly returned to studying the hololith. While Richard had been versed in tactics, he was only proficient at individual ones, given his position and regular purpose. He would be of little help here, but he could do some other things, given this simulation...things which would be much more useful. Taking note of the spoken plans, Richard tapped the side of his head, activating the communications bead which came with the carapace suit. The voices of his comrades were echoed in his ear as their squad radio relayed the words to him.

"Energy shouldn't be too much of a problem," Richard said as he tapped the computer in his wrist, bringing up a holographic plan of the DEMON which rotated silently, its arms splayed to the side, "I have a pair of TOMB batteries which will sustain me for long enough, or at least until I find a generator or some other such area to resupply my power." Looking over to Wolf, he nodded. "The German's Helios should also use the same interface jack that my DEMON uses, given the manufacturer," he added as he speciified the TOMB battery plan, bringing into focus, "as long as I can find an alternate energy source, the CANNIBAL system should keep us going." Closing the plans, the Englishman once more studied the map, squinting as the red bulges seemed to grow. "I'll leave you guys to do the greater planning, but I'll keep listening in on the comms channel. Keep me informed," he said as he stood up straight, "I'll go try and liaison with forces already on the ground, and prep our transport. Hopefully the Thunderbolts and Sparrows are in good condition." Taking a step back, he nodded once, before disappearing into the depths of the ship.

Thankfully, the ship they were on was built according to standard plans, and so Richard found it relatively easy to navigate his way through the twisting corridors. The ship was occupied by an entire Naval complement, who saluted him as he passed. The petty officers directed him towards the communications hub, and the Englishman soon found an area which reeked of human habitation. The stale stench of sweat was rank in the small white room, while empty ration tins and dreary look in the combined communications officers' eyes suggested they worked, ate and slept at their stations. Organised chatter rang from mouth to mouth as they co-ordinated with forces on the ground. Here, one officer authorised an orbital bombardment of a small village which had been overrun, while another was responding to a request for reinforcements. Finding an officer who was focussed on their area of engagement, Richard gently tapped him on the shoulder. "I require your assistance," he said bluntly to the man as he looked at the screen, which was barely moving. The balance of forces was quite even. Startled, the little pale man jumped back, his skin tone and odd body shape suggesting that he had been born ship side. "S-Sir?" he asked as he looked back at the Englishman. In the Terran military, A.W.E pilots, even the lowliest cadet, was given a healthy respect, and given their pedigree and schooling, this was only to be expected. "Get me into contact with the overall commander of the ground operation," Richard said as he studied the unshifting patterns on the screen. At the same time, the discussion of tactics was still raging in his earbead. "That...that would be...Colonel Montague, sir..." the communications officer said as he turned back to the theatre of operations. "Patch him into a channel with me," Richard said, pulling a small black wire from a compartment in his chest. The officer, thankfully, complied, plugging him into the console, before rapidly chattering some unknown cant into a microphone. "Everyone be quiet," Richard said into his commbead, silencing his teammates. As an afterthought, he patched them into the channel. While they would be unable to make comment, they would be able to hear the conversation.

"Colonel Montague, this is A.W.E. Cadet Richard Williams contacting you from the 'King Marlon II' currently in orbit around your position-" Richard started, before he was interrupted by a brash voice that sounded like it was in horrible pain. "It's about fecking time I got some help down here!" it shouted before groaning in pain, "Montague is dead, and has been for three feckin days." Calmly Richard focussed on the man's voice. "May I ask who I'm addressing then?" Richard replied, his voice almost infuriatingly at peace. "My name is Lietenant Scikkor, ah feck that hurts!" was his reply, followed by a wincing sound as the man on the other end tended to his wound. A lietenant was the overall commander? Richard growled. That wasn't good. That means the Saurids had managed to knock over a large portion of high command in the area. That meant they had no company structure anymore, probably just a few isolated platoons fighting to stay alive. "Leftenant, stay with me," Richard said, his voice calm and soothing, "I require your assistance to deploy our unit effectively "JUST GET THEM FECKING DOWN HERE!" Scikkor shouted. Richard gritted his teeth as the commbead screamed into his ear. "At this point we might not even be coming down, Leftenant," Richard replied smoothly, his cadence unbroken and serene. There was a moment of silence as Richard's words sunk in, broken only by the hard breathing of the Lieutenant and intermittent winces. "How...how can I help?" answered a meek voice on the other line. Like Richard had thought. If there was the threat of no help, it would calm the man down. Or at least scare him into compliance.

"First, give me a rundown on the enemy forces," Richard said as he brought up the the Grimoire Biologicos, "what creatures do you see?" The pause on the other side seemed to stretch into eternity. "I dunno what they're called, sir, weren't taught this in training," Scikkor replied. "A description will suffice, Lieutenant."
"Well...most of em seem to be this...weird dog...thing, but on two legs. They've got claws...long claws..." Following his description, Richard brought up an article that was relayed to his comrades.

Name: 
Saurid Serrasalmus "Tearers"
Classification: 
Melee infantry
Subspecies: 
Saurid Clavada "Slimers"
Saurid Clupeidae "Swarmers"
Information:
One of the lower tier units, the colloquially known "Tearers" are basic melee infantry which use swarm tactics to overrun their enemies. Of particular importance is their talons, which are known to tear through Mk II Battle armour with little difficulty.
"Oh, then there are those dog things again...but they only have two legs, but their mouth...its bigger...and it shoots...slime...but that shit burns..." 

Name: 
Saurid Clavada "Slimers"
Classification: 
Ranged Infantry
Subspecies: 
Saurid Serrasalmus "Tearers"
Saurid Clupeidae "Swarmers"
Information:
A simple adaptation of the "Tearers", the slimers have forgone talons in favour of using the biomass in order to create glands of acidic spit which their fire from their oral orifices. This 'slime' is similar to human phlegm and is capable of melting through gunmetal, but Mk II battle armour seems to provide some protection. Beware that shooting these creatures in the head may release the slime prematurely.
The Lieutenant was about to say more, but was interrupted as another voice filtered in through the comms. "Lieutenant! They're starting to break through!" it cried urgently. "Close up ranks and intensify fire!" Scikkor shouted back, before seeming to turn his attention back to Richard. "I don't care what else you need, please...I'm begging you...We need you donw here...I have a wife and kids to provide for...I can't die on this shithole he-"
"I'll do what I can, Leftenant," Richard said, cutting him off before he got all emotional. Disconnecting himself from the console, Richard nodded his head to the operator before stalking away towards the drop bays. "You heard him ladies and gents, we need to get down there soon. Things are getting desparate. I'll start maintenance, but get down here quick."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

By the time everyone else arrived, Richard was already finishing off mainenance, making sure that all pods were primed and ready. "Fuels all dandy, reverse thrusters are reading operational, and I've calibrated most consoles so that we drop in generally the right place. Feel free to alter the co-ordinates," he said as he checked the crash webbing one one of the drop capsules, tugging it with great force and making sure it did not snap. "I also took the liberty of installing smoke launchers into the overhead. All you need to do is trigger them with the console." Turning to Wolf, he smiled. "Course we're a bit different," he said, tapping the larger launcher in their pod. "Skyshard shrapnel launchers to help us clear our landing zone. We'll probably drop right into the thick of em."

Stepping away as he admired his handiwork, he turned to the squad. "Right...should we suit up then?"