| All Hands on Deck |
| Summary: | When the klaxons sound, the heat isn't just outside the ship. A view of the chaos from the hangar bay. |
| Date: | 05 March 2042 AE |
| Related Logs: | Swarm logs in general |
| Players: |
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| Hangar Deck - Port - Midship - Battlestar Cerberus |
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| The single largest rooms on the Cerberus are the hangar decks. Each flight pod consists of two stacked landing bays with adjoined decks and hangars, which along with computer-assisted landings results in a faster Viper recovery rate. Mirror images of each other, these two huge areas are located on the flight pods. The inboard sides of the deck, closest to the ship's main hull, are lined with parking and maintenance bays for Vipers and Raptors based aboard the battlestar. The outboard side of the deck contains the launch tubes used by the Vipers for standard deployment. Huge blast doors seal the deck into four sections, each one containing an elevator that leads up to the flight deck directly overhead. The fore-most section contains an elevator system that leads towards Aerospace Fabrication. |
| Post-Holocaust Day: #372 |
It's an ordinary enough workday in Cerberus' hangar deck. If, indeed, ordinary days even exist anymore, with the Swarm necessitating around-the-clock repairs to the increasingly battered birds and extra hands on stand-by damage control at all hours. The klaxons haven't sounded yet today but, as ever lately, there's a sense that danger *could* strike at any moment. But the work goes on. The CAP in the black is winding into its third and uneventful hour. Alert fighters sit in the tubes, prepped to spring at a word. Refueling work is underway on a line of Vipers at present, in addition to the seemingly never-ending list of repairs due to all the birds. The work goes on, with no end in sight to it, come Cylon or no Cylon.
"Martin!" Bannik is barking out at some poor Crewman Apprentice — one of the new ones that has been having his Aircraft Handler baptism by fire by running supplies to and fro between the various technicians. "Where the frak is that RAM board I needed? Harrier 307 isn't going to launch itself now!" He's got a clipboard in his hand with all the to-do and punch lists clipped to it. He looks harried, to say the least.
Sofia is here, one of the helpful engineers working on wires or ECMs as needed. She points out a part or two to one of her fellows, likely someone in training. She grunts, and looks up to smile, seeing Bannik with clipboard in han chasing some Apprentice and supplies about. It's definitely amusing to say the least. "It's alright, let's make sure this one is good to go." She nods and takes a deep breath. Likely it's just a check up. After all, people live and die by those sorts of things right?
One of the other engineers that's helping out with the electrical repairs and such would be Mitchell. He's currently helping as best he can, pausing a bit as he looks lost in thought for a few moments, before he gets back to the work.
<Intercom> Attention! Action Stations! Set Condition One throughout the ship.
[TAC3] "Gravel" Pewter says, "Flight, Cerberus Actual. We've got two new contacts, just popped up on our DRADIS. Confirmed Cylons. Looks like they're coming again. CAP engage, launch Alert fighters to the rest of y'all fly boys scramble. We've got company again."
And just like that, even the fascade of normalcy is broken. The klaxons sound. All hands, action stations. The Raiders have been spotted. The Swarm is coming. Alert fighters are ordered to launch. Additional air personnel begin rushing into the hangar bay for the larger scramble to come. Along with them, over the coms additional damage control and medics are summoned to the hangar deck. The idea that casualties will be returning is pretty much a given at this point.
The good news? Bannik just got his RAM board. The bad news? The alert klaxons just started blaring. So Tyr just drops the board on a work bench along with his clipboard, starting to scream out: "You heard that, people!" After all, the Air Wing wireless channels are always on in the Deck. "Let's go, let's go, let's go! In the tubes, get 'em out! Where are the tows?" In the land of the mostly rookie deckhands, the E-3 that was here when Cerberus launched is king.
Mitchell makes Sofia pause. An unfamiliar face. An owlish blink then - Alert klaxons! Sofia's eyebrows lift, her mouth drops a little. She frowns, closing her mouth. For now, she listens to the deckies and their King, who she seems to adore and respect. She scrambles away from the bird they were working on. She moves out of the way of a pilot or two and moves closer to Bannik, peering for the tow. She stays quiet for her part, motioning. "I think that one's not in use."
Well, there goes that little bit of shut eye. Cilusia didn't even manage to make it back to the bunks, elected instead to crash next to come work bench in the repair bay - the shady spot, if one exists on deck. The klaxons make that impossible, as they well should! The constant swarms have made the orange jumpsuit a second-skin, and the helmet is never far from hand. Despite the excitement, she's still wiping what little bit of bleary cat-nap eye gunk as exists from her eyes as she jogs out to the deck, helmet straps bouncing.
Mitchell almost freezes momentarily as he hears the klaxons. Looking quite out of place here, he tries to make sure he's staying out of the way for the pilots, and those that knows more of what they're doing in this situation. He looks around carefully for now.
"All right. We've got a tug over there. All right. I'll get it hooked up to -855, get it on over to the tubes. Sofia, make sure the apprentices get the blocks from out behind it and so it's ready to move. Come on! Each bird here is one that isn't hitting the Cylons!" Bannik bolts for the unused tug, hopping behind it and starting it on up. And so he pulls it towards the blocked Viper, so it can be moved off towards the launch tubes.
<FS3> Bannik rolls Drive: Success.
<FS3> Cilusia rolls Technical: Success.
<FS3> Mitchell rolls Technical: Good Success.
Sofia spends 1 luck points on Viper No Asplode..
<FS3> Sofia rolls Technical: Success.
The hangar deck runs almost like clockwork during these first harried minutes of the Swarms now. The Alert Vipers fly from the tubes, and the techs hastily tow the next ones into the position. And the next. There are a good many planes aboard the good ship Cerberus, and it takes minutes of grunt work to get them all scrambled.
Some part of Sofia never stops smiling at the Deck King. She nods at Bannik. "Alright," She moves towards the tubes and helps herd apprentices. She's polite, if hurried. She scampers aalong to make sure blocks are moved accordingly and no one gets run over. Squished apprentices are the stuff of psych visits and nightmares after all. She isn't quite as used to this as the Deckies likely are and a part of her is baffled at the scramble. Her hands and feet seem to move of their own accord. "Here we go."
Doing his best to help with the work, Mitchell soon seems to find some kind of rythm. When it's clear he's not well trained in these things, he doesn't make things turn into an accident or anything, at least.
This is like second-nature, now. Reflex, habit, it all mixes with training to be something you could almost do in your sleep! Others are hooking Vipers to tugs, driving them into the tubes, getting them hooked in the catapults and ready to go. Cilusia busies herself with final checks on flightsuits, helmet seals, O2 lines, cockpit hardseals…the whole shebang. She's the one up on the ladder on the sides of the Vipers helping to get the pilots in and ready, scampering down and hurrying down the line to get them all in and ferried to the tubes.
"Okay. Birds away," gasps Bannik once he's loaded the last bird he needs in the tube. Easy, right? But there comes the next part: "All right. We need to get the Deck prepped for the returns! We need the tows in place by the elevator so we can get them yanked back when they come down! Where are the EVA teams for the crashers? Fasi's got 'em suiting up, right?" His cranial-covered head swivels, looking for the PO.
The tale of the battle outside the ship is told in chaotic comms chatter. Reports of Raiders engaged, damage taken, desperate calls for friends hit hard to 'Sing out.' Or to call in the SAR Raptors to retrieve them from the black. For those on the Deck, the battle shall be waged when those fighters - as Bannik so rightly put it - come home. Whole or in pieces, crashing or burning.
Sing out. More sounds like something a bird does on escape than people. Kind of poetic, in a sad, hopeful way. Are you there? Isn't that what birds ask when they sing? Sofia takes a deep breath, trying not to think about those calls. Instead she nods, listening to the deckies. Help get those tows in place. Right. She sticks to herding apprentices and moving tows, then - trying not to think about retrieving bodies too much. She might smile at the PO in passing and scoot back to work. "Aye aye."
As the Vipers are away, the medical team arrives and begins the intricate dance of preparing for any wounded that might be coming back home to roost without getting underfoot or in the way of the deck crew. Cameron gives the trained military medics a wide berth, letting them do what they do best to get everything prepped. He's there more as the emergency doctor and surgeon, for those cases that require more drastic measures and treatment stat. He's hoping that his services, beyond just being a general medic and EMT, will not be necessarly, but experience has proven that in such cases being safe is better than being too late and sorry.
"Hey! You!" Bannik seems to have found someone on the Deck who doesn't seem to have something to do. It's Mitchell. "Grab a fire extinguisher and get placed towards the elevator! When the crashers come down, we'll need someone to spray them down! They can't go up topside, because there's no oxygen, but when they hit down here —" Kaboom.
Waiting for a few moments, Mitchell pauses momentarily as he hears Bannik's words, "Will do." Moving to get hold of the fire extinguisher, he glances around the room for a few moments in the process.
[TAC3] (from Hydra) "Cerberus, Pony. Be advised, SAR Raptor en route back to the barn early. Ensign Travers took a nasty hit, Viper's dead in the water and he's non-responsive on comms. Casualty incoming. We're taking him back through the Swarm, so we're coming in hot.
Those lucky deckies assigned for crasher duty are in fact suiting up as the bustle shifts from getting Vipers launched to clearing the way for the smoldering wrecks and the medical teams to zoom back and forth across the deck. They don't get spiffy little flight suits, nope. They get big EVA suits so they can go topside on the landing deck and 'encourage' those wrecked or crashed ships onto the elevator and down off the landing deck…with heavy machinery of their own. Cilusia's cramming deckies into those tight suits, getting them sealed up, checking trimix levels and ratios…the whole deal happening off in a little nook and cranny of the deck housing all the equipment.
Tilting his head slightly, Cameron presses the link more closely to his ear, waving the medical team to start getting ready for incoming injuries, lips twisting into a thin concerned line as he follows in their wake, waiting to see just where and how hot this Viper is coming in. Wouldn't do to get taken out before they even do their job! Besides, the deck will need to get the ship in and stablized before they can do anything to help the pilot…
Bannik grabs equipment himself, something that looks like a giant buzz saw, making his way over towards the elevators when the call of a SAR bird coming in hot comes over the wireless. "Always need to be worried about the engines," Tyr is coaching the deckhands assembling. "It's usually where the biggest concern is. Don't worry about aiming well or making it pretty. Just get it hosed down and get the hatch open so we can get the medics in."
Hoses! Sofia normally dreads them because she's a frequent target for a bored deckie. Or something. She nods at Cameron in passing. Perhaps some peace has been made. For now, she's busy helping with hoses and Apprentices. No deckie gets backed over. She nods at Bannik's lesson. Got it. "Got cha," She would normally smile at Tyr but - distractions and more than a litle worry keep her from being too expressive.
And within a heartbeat of that message over the comm, that Raptor is incoming. The SAR bus pounds in for a hard landing, towing the blasted remains of a Viper behind with it, which skids to in with a shower of sparks and crashing thud that's barely controlled by the tow line, cockpit nearly collapsed by the force of KEW fire the Raiders inflicted upon it. That is not pretty.
<FS3> Mitchell rolls Repair: Good Success.
<FS3> Sofia rolls Repair: Good Success.
Cilusia treats blackknight-1118:
< Body (Moderate): successful
< Cockpit (Serious): successful
< Body (Moderate): unsuccessful
Cameron can't help but wince as the ship crashes onto the deck, nor can he miss the nearly crushed in cockpit, lips twisting as he murmurs under his breath, "We may just have a D.O.A on our hands…" He can't see the pilot at all beneath the damaged cockpit and has no idea if the person is dead or alive, but he stands by with the rest of the medics, at the ready to rush the ship and cockpit once it's been cut open and the pilot exposed.
The deckies that are heading up to the landing deck get a hard tap on the back of the helmet from Cilusia before they get to climbing up through whatever airlocks admit them from the lower deck to the upper deck. As they scramble up and out to assist in other endeavors the next level up, the Viper from above is getting lowered on the elevator, the first team up on the landing deck having positioned it on the elevator and untethered from the Raptor.
With the EVA teams off and away, Cilusia turns her attention to the incoming crashed bird. Ill-equipped to help tend the sparks and fires, she simply stands off and lets those with the appropriate equipment move in before she too gets down to business.
Even if Travers is D.O.A., Bannik still needs to believe he isn't. He's tensed and ready, holding the saw in his hand, waiting for the moment that he can jump in — when the spraying is done — and try to cut the pilot free. For all the love they put into these birds, they'll wreck them if it's what's needed to haul out a pilot. Call it deckhand love.
Wincing a bit as he sees the state of the Viper, Mitchell moves in with the fire extinguisher, doing his best to get the sparks and fires taken care of now. Frowning a bit in the process.
Poor guy. Sofia looks sympathetic. She wants to believe in the Ensign's survival, she really does. She swallows hard though and works on managing the fire with a gaggle of Apprentices. "Here, get some over there…" Watch those sparks. At least it'll be slightly safer for the medical crew to get in, once things are managed now. Note that it's sparking, but contained. She doesn't… seem happy about being near fire and sparks. Can't hesitate. Fire. But why is that fear and unhappiness there? No answer comes, just a bit of foam.
With the crews battling back the sparks and heat with foam, Cilusia races forward. Since this Viper isn't really on its struts, there's no need or use for the ladders. That cockpit seal, being one of her areas, is the first thing she looks to. Frame bent, glass cracked and broken, some a little blackened from electronics fires, there's no way that it's going to come off eaily. "This frakker's not going to pop off! Get the saws, the saws! Cut it, down. Under the frame. Pull the whole godsdamned thing off!"
Man with a saw? That'd be Bannik! Tyr rushes up onto the side of the Viper, shouting out. "Get clear! Get clear! I'm going in!" And then he is, the hideous whine of the saw cutting into the plexiglass, metal, and plastic that surrounds the pilot inside. It's one of those things that looks and sounds a lot worse than it is, and then, in a few moments, the canopy can be peeled off and tossed aside. That's when Tyr shouts: "Sofia! Get the medics over here! New guy! I need a ladder! Fasi and I will haul him out and get him down."
The medics don't need anyone to bring them over. They've been waiting, at the ready, this whole time. As the cracked and battered canopy is tossed to the ground they swarm forward, still trying to balance staying out of the way of working deckhands while at the same time trying to get to the pilot of the ship. Cameron once again winces at the idea of them just hauling the man out of the cockpit and calls out, "Wait! Check to see if he's breathing and has a pulse first! Ah, frak it, get me up there," he barks, ready to climb up on people's shoulders if necessary. "He might have neck o spinal damage. Let's at least get a brace on him before we start jerking him around…"
"Ladder…" There's only a brief pause as Mitchell hears that, as he looks around, before he heads over to where the ladders are, moving to get hold of the thing and hurrying back with it.
With Mitch going to fetch a ladder and the medics - are … here. Sofia gives one of them a startled look. MEDICS OUT OF NOWHERE! It'd be almost funny if some poor bastard weren't dead or dying. For now then, she nods at Bannik. Medics here! With that, she lingers near the apprentices ready for more fires, sparks or what have you. "Got it." There's a quiet prayer offered that maybe the pilot's alive.
<FS3> Cameron rolls Firstaid: Good Success.
With Cameron on the scene and demanding to be let in, Bannik defers to the good doctor. "All right, Doc." It's clearly what he's not used to doing. Usually it's haul 'em out and get 'em on the stretcher. But he stands by, scooting off to the side, letting the medicine man get in and do what he needs to do.
Scrambling up the ladder Cameron doesn't even hesitate at the sight of all that blood seeping from the chest area of the pilot's suit. He quickly checks for a pulse and breathing before snapping on a neck brace, just in case, and calling out, "Okay, he's alive and good to move. We need to get him to Sickbay stat!" He pulls back so thems with the know-how can pull the pilot free, pressing a pad of gauze to the chest and instructing, "Keep as much pressure as possible on his chest at all times till we got him on the stretcher…" and then he's scrambling out of the way again, waiting till they get the man down before calling to the various medics and EMT's, "Lets get him intubated and on oxygen immediately, pressure bandages to the chest area. Saline drip to start, get him stablized and then move out."
Basic first aid - meaning the application of salves to burns and gauze and bandaids and really basic stuff - is about the extent of what Cilusia regularly performs, she does what little she can to help the medics. Once the cockpit is buzzed off and thrown to the deck in a heap, Cilusia's basically just muscle there on deck, helping them to haul Travers out when they give the all clear.
[TAC3] "Gravel" Pewter says, "Flight, Cerberus Actual. We're reading the Raiders are jumping out. Say again, Cylon forces are retreating. Mop up out there and RTB."
For those in the air, RTB means the near end of the engagement. For those on the Deck, it's a call to action to prepare to dive into the thick of it. It means birds crashing home, and casualties and both man and mechanical nature incoming. Ensign Travers was probably just the first of several to come.
With Travers secured to the stretcher the medical team splits, part of them cleaning up and resetting for the next wave of injuries to come, a small subset, including Cameron rushing the wounded pilot up to Sickbay as Cameron calls out, "Call ahead - get a surgical room and team on standby, I want to take him in to OR on arrival!" The noise and hubbub of the team fades as they round the corner and disappear into the corridor, the rest of the medics and EMTs once more getting out of the way to wait for the next emergency.
Sofia is amongst the fire crew for now then, with hoses and extinguishers ready for the next. She'll await orders from the PO or the Deck King. The apprentices and her are watching for now, quiet and many of them wide-eyed.
Mitchell has prepared to use the fire extinguisher again now, humming a bit to himself as he awaits the next catastrophe.
Incoming! In the form of multi-ton aircraft rather than enemy fire, but it's just as tense a situation as the planes come roaring back into the battlestar barn that is Cerberus. And many of them are coming in hot. The ear-searing sound of metal screeching against metal echoing through the bay as they hit the flight deck. One Viper in particular barely retains any control at all as it barrels through the bay doors, slowing only just as it careens toward the flight deck. It's going to CRASH! it lands with a terrible thud, skidding propelled by momentum before it finally stops.
Above, the planes land - subjectively speaking - and the crews bustle into action. From one end of the deck they start to maneuver planes out of the way, towing those that can be towed, and pushing those that can't. Room is made constantly for the arrival of new planes, as the most critically damaged are lowered on the elevators first. All of the elevators on the landing pod haul planes down, as many as can fit on them at a time. Down below, Cilusia runs around like a chicken sans head, pulling open cockpits, helping pilots out, risking sparking electronics to pull the uninjured but disoriented out of their birds. Some order is imposed as damaged planes are sent one way and functional planes in another.
Cilusia treats harrier-316:
< Body (Moderate): unsuccessful
< Body (Light): successful
< Body (Moderate): unsuccessful
< Body (Light): successful
Sofia winces, hearing the aircraft coming in roaring and hot. Is this life for her deckie friends? More respect than ever now. She gasps as the Viper thuds in, barely retaining control. Right. Now the Deckies herd her along as she helps move to control any fires or move bits as needed. She too, is a chicken without a head. Bits here, fire extinguisher there…
Pausing for a few moments as he sees the incoming aircraft, Mitchell does his best to help, mostly by keeping fires and such under control at the moment. "Madness…" he mutters to himself, with a bit of a sigh.
It's triage now, the chaos controlled by the senior technicians as they direct damage control to the most grievously damaged planes, extract wounded pilots for the medics to attend, and put out first - in some places literally. The crashed birds are hauled by tow lines to the elevators below to the hangar deck for patch work. The Swarm involves no Raiders here, but it's nevertheless a harrowing experience in the mad scramble to save people and ships. But there, while a flow of wounded are taken away by stretcher to Sickbay, and yet more beaten, broken planes are going to be down for repairs, there are no KIAs reported. And the fires are put out by the hands of the technicians on Deck.
The battle is over. Today. The repair work, as always, is only beginning.