| Broken Birds in Their Nests |
| Summary: | Chaos on the Deck in the wake of the attack. Pilots are extracted, the Deck cleared. |
| Date: | 26 Feb 2041 AE |
| Related Logs: | Preceding Logs: The Blameless Tide, What Sweet Price Freedom; Following Logs: After, Emotion's Embrace |
| Players: |
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| Hangar Deck - Port | Midship - Battlestar Cerberus |
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.
OOC Note: Continuing from Into the Jaws of Death
Landing made, Bootstrap doesn't hesitate to unstrap himself. While everyone is freakin' out, he's actually bothering to go through post-flight. Deck has enough to do, might as well help them get a head start. He's much more useful in this capacity than dealing with people and emotions and whatever the frak is going on outside.
"What the frak," Naevi is still swearing, looking around at the chaos and reaching up to pull her helmet from her head, "Why are they attacking Picon? What …what the hell? What were those ships?" Now that she's without a job to do for the moment, she can ask her questions of the world in general.
"Coming through…" Hawke growls as he and his team walk out onto the Hangar Bay deck. He glares for a moment at whoever is in front of him before looking over towards a group of people who appear to be in charge. "Medical is here. Now could someone give me a sitrep, please?"
Quinn has finally set down and so, but a moment later, she pops the hatch on their not-too-damaged bird. She's dead serious, not sobbing, not saying anything or even panicking, just a cold look given across the deck as she begins to survey the damage. She walks out silently at Trask's side, giving just a long look at the towed Viper behind them, but since Malone has answered she doesn't completely panic. She finally heads in that direction, trying to reach up and in, hoping to give the kid some help getting out. "Splash, talk to me… How hurt are you? Can we get you out of there?" All professional. All Caprican business again.
Julie sighs again and slowly lets go of Marko, looking more then a little embarrassed as tears still roll down her cheeks. As much as she wants to ask Marko about his mother, she just cannot find the words, choking up a little more, "We're next, the cylons won't let us go.." Releasing Marko now, she wipes away her tears and doesn't leave her Raptor, still stunned.
With how damaged 308 is, it'll take a while for the cockpit to get wrenched open, the canopy as twisted as a lot of the metal to be found. Once it is pulled back it'll be discovered that Alessandra's a mess with the majority of her wounds being hard to assess due to the slouched over position she is in, her harness the only thing keeping her from sliding out of her seat.
Evandreus timidly lets go of one of the straps to try to reach for the control to open the hatch. He gets it in hand, but the unlock mechanism is jammed, and he yanks at it a few more times before stopping the effort, realizing that nobody wins when you wrestle with a Raptor.
Daphne closes her eyes takes deep breaths. "One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine…. Ten." She opens her eyes again, and then slides her canopy open and descends to the floor itself. Eyes track from one end of the hangar to the other. She looks for faces she knows, eyes up Tisiphone's viper, and then looks about for Lasher's. What is intended as a walk becomes a jog and then a flat-out run that brings her in a collision with a crewman who shouts at her, breaking decorum but not caring one bit as he gives the ensign what for. Daphne runs up to Lasher's viper and gets to the canopy.
Sensing Quinn nearby, Kal calls out to her, "Check on, Bunny!" She'd be able to know that's genuine concern in his voice, despite his sardonic demeanor.
"We took heavy fire in combat, Doctor," Cidra says, striding over to address Hawke. "From… from Cylon Raiders…" She can't barely choke the word out. Deep breath. She gestures back to Evandreus' poor Raptor, and Alessandra and Laskaris' nastily downed Vipers. "Ours comms were fried. Can't say on injuries in detail. If you need hands getting them out, we shall assist."
Tisiphone is waiting by her relatively unmangled Viper, all wild skittish eyes in a chalk-pale face, searching for the deck crew who'll come by with the clipboard, so she can sign off and…do /what/, exactly? "Temperance," she says in a thready voice, as the sobbing girl approaches. "Hey. Uh. Ah. It's- okay. It's okay." It's like a distress beacon, left to uselessly repeat. Numbly, she performs a hug-like gesture.
Sitka's ditched his helmet nearby, and is currently helping the deck crew pry Alessandra's cockpit open. Something for his (shaking) hands to do, and his mind to focus on amidst the chaos. "Over here!" he barks as he spots the familiar uniform of a couple of medics weaving their way through the hangar bay. "Just stay put," he tells Lucky, voice hoarse. "They'll be here for you as soon as they can." He hasn't spotted Rojas headed over yet.
Nostos for his part just looks a bit off as he is clearly processing what is happening. He turns for a moment to look at all of the other pilots to make sure they are being tended to and to see who has been hurt the most if at all. He hangs back awaiting orders.
Shaking himself _HARD_, Marko forces himself to turn around and give his ship a proper post-flight, jaw clenching as he forces his feelings back into their box as best he can. Fortunately, he's done this before, so, as hard as it is, he knows how. "We gotta post flight the bird, okay?" he calls. "Just start your checklist. Don't worry about any of the rest of it until it's done."
[TAC3] "Oneida" Antares says, "*crackle* ..erus… *static* …mayday mayday!"
Naevi gravitates towards the upside-down Raptor with Bunny aboard, crouching to try and see through the cockpit to at least check on the occupants before she starts kicking up a fuss or freaking out, "Bunny? Bunny?" She raps a knuckle loudly on the glass.
Lasher is still alive, at least. There's finally movement in the cockpit as Daphne looks into the canopy of the horribly damaged fighter. No bleeding injuries are evident, but the pilot is dazed, his head lolling to one side; looks like the force of that landing knocked him around a little bit. A hand reaches slowly for the cockpit controls, but the bent frame of the ship doesn't seem to want to let the canopy open correctly.
Julie nods to Marko and whispers softly, "Thanks…" She is about to do her post-flight when she hears the radio and desperately begins to try and respond to whoever is on the other end of the communications system.
[TAC3] "Easy" Julie says, "Repeat yourself. This is Harrier-307 onboard Battlestar Cerberus, please repeat that mayday! Where are you? We'll help!"
Starting to move to get out of the Viper, Malone takes his time in getting out of the cockpit. He starts by removing his helmet, dropping it outside the fighter. Then looking to his hands, "…eight, nine…" Brief wince, "Ten," he mutters, before he looks up at the approaching Quinn. "All fingers accounted for, at least. Doesn't feel like anything else is gone either…" Grimacing as he looks around the battered cockpit. "Aside from my stomach contents." And indeed, there seem to be the smell of someone having vomited inside said cockpit.
"I don't care if the damage was done by highly irritated butterflies, Major. Get me and my crew to your hurt pilots. And get them…" Hawke gestures to the pilots who are panicking, "Out of the way of the flight crews. If they are calm enough to help, they can help. If not, I want them GONE." He gestures to his crew and sends them towards hurt birds. He himself goes to the first broken bird he sees… Alessandra's. "Deck Crew! We need these canopies open ASAP!"
Evandreus is there, if wrongly oriented, and, when someone approaches the glass, he reaches out toward it to pat the glass twice, then jerks his thumb over his shoulder. His backseater can't really be seen in the dark inside the bird, and he then jerks at the hatch controls some more to show that they won't work.
[TAC3] "CerbTac" Tillman speaks loud, slow, and clearly. "Yacht approaching Cerberus, this is CIC. Do you have the Admiral aboard, over?"
Daphne bangs twice on Lasher's canopy. "Hey! I need some help up here! This cockpit's stuck and the pilot might be hurt. We need help over here!" She gets back down to the ground and waves her arms back and forth, trying to flag down anyone she can while she looks around for something she could open the canopy with, herself.
"If you have not been assigned a specific task by a Medic or Deckhand, clear out of the way!" Cidra barks. "That is an order. If they have to waste time wading through you, that is less time they will have to get our comrades safely out and treated."
[TAC3] "Flasher" Marko says, " CIC, Flasher, we're receiving an unidentified Kyrptor on Tac-3. Advise, over?"
[TAC3] "Oneida" Antares says, "*static crrrrssshhhh* …berus, Oneida. Affirm- *crackle*…board. Engines malfun— *static* — ng, can't stop."
Temperance stares at Tisiphone for a moment and then asks quickly, "You're okay? You're okay. Daphne! Daphne, where's Daphne?" She whirls around, frantic, and finds Daphne trying to open Lasher's canopy. "Daph!" she yells loudly, leaving Tisiphone and darting over to the other ship. "Daphne, are you okay? Tisi is okay… Lasher's stuck? Is he hurt?" Temperance looks around, everywhere people bleeding, planes damaged. And outside, down on the surface… Cidra yells at them to move, but she stands there, frozen.
Quinn gently reaches both her gloved hands up, assisting the young Malone up and out of his craft. Even if he's not hurt beyond bruises, she does give him a long look over as she gets him back down to his feet. "Did good out there, kid… Don't worry about it. Better losing your lunch there than one too many glasses of wine in front of the brass, right?" She tries to give him a half smile, almost reassuring, but there aren't many assurances left in her. So she pats his shoulder once more then lets go, looking across the deck again. Frowning… "Where the frak is Evan?" She calls to Trask, realizing their other old colleague hasn't escaped his bird yet. Slowly, more and more lead is entering her stomach. It makes her more icy on the outside.
With the deck crew having Lucky's viper well in hand, Sitka hauls himself back to his feet, snags his helmet, and jogs over to Lasher's bird when Daphne calls for help. Hoisting himself up the ladder, he reaches around the Ensign to try to grab for the manual release lever. Which seems to be stuck. "Frak."
Naevi is keeping her head at least, and when she sees Bunny return her acknowledgement, she gives him a thumbs up and moves around towards the hatch. She's no deck crewperson, sure, but in all the chaos she can at least try to assess if she's able to help at all. She gets close to the hatch, looking for anything in the way of an emergency release, "Hang in there," she calls to the Raptor's occupants, "You'll be out soon." She looks over towards Hawke and his Medical Mavens, "Doc! I think we've got a Raptor team all rattled up in here but I can't get them out." Maybe not a medical problem, but maybe the Deck Crew'll overhear.
[TAC3] "Oneida" Antares says, "Cer — *crackle* — cannot comply! *bzzzt* -er lost engines, sir!"
"I don't think there's anything we can do for them, Easy," Marko sighs, and completes his checklist. "C'mon… you done yet? We gotta clear the bird." he says, slowly remembering to rip a sheet out of the flight manual and print '!!DO NOTE WIPE MEMORY!!' in big bold letters, affixing it to the screen on his console.
"Thanks," Malone offers quietly, before he nods a little, "I guess it's better, yes. Although it would have been like a choice between two diseases…" Going quiet again now.
Having finally finished with his post-flight check, Trask goes into damage control mode. With how efficiently he moves, it should come as no surprise that he worked Deck for six years and had even been an AE lead. Wherever there is slack that needs to be picked-up, he starts heaving.
Lasher looks up abruptly as Daphne bangs on the cockpit; blood trickles from a couple cuts on his face, and he looks rather dazed, but coherent. His hand comes up to make a thumbs-up gesture before he points to the canopy himself. But then, of course, she and the others already have figured out it's stuck.
Still following Sitka from point to point, Rojas' watches the failed attempt to open up that manual release lever. With sweat and dirt creating odd black trace-lines over the old Ensign's forehead, he gets close enough to knock Shiv on the shoulder. "Captain?" It's a question mixed with his head tilting towards the lever. An unspoken 'Mind if I..?'
"Ensign, I have no idea what the frak you expect me to do about… good, thank you, sir," Hawke goes from yelling at Naevi to thanking the man who has opened Alessandra's Canopy for him. Shaking his head at the blood, he leans in. This is gonna be ugly. "We need her out of there now. Give me a second to see if I can stop the bleeding. Hurt pilots, ALL OF THEM, on stretchers! I don't care if you think you're only scratched, all of your decision making privileges have been revoked!"
Alessandra moans a bit once she starts to come to but her eyes don't open and nothing is said by her, that single, low groan being all she can manage.
Evandreus nods to Naevi as she gives him the thumbs-up, then, taking a shallow breath, he tries again. "Stiffy? Can you hear me?" he calls. Nothing. Swallowing hard, he finagles one foot up over his console to plant on the glass, trying to figure out a good position to get into so that he won't fall too hard when he unfastens himself from his seat.
Rojas doesn't need to ask twice. Upon spotting the more technically savvy Petrel approaching, Sitka climbs back down the ladder, and hitches his chin toward the canopy. "Manual release is jammed." Rather than get in the way of deck and medical crew trying to get their jobs done, he scrapes his fingers through his hair and moves off to fetch — and fill out — his post-flight checklist. A concerned glance is shot toward Evan's upside-down raptor, but he stays well out of the way.
Julie has a look of defeat on her face and just nods to Flasher as she follows him to the hatch. While not crying, she is simply shocked to say the least and really just doesn't know what to do with herself.
Quinn finally does take sight of the bird that Evandreus is -in-, at least. That's a good start. She swears gently, beginning to jog over in that direction, slight concern painting her ice cold features as she looks to the man quietly behind the glass, and then to Naevi trying to get him out. She swears. "Where the frak are the snipes when you need them? Frak… Bootstrap! Use your magic fingers! Bunny and Stiffy are trapped!" She stands near Naevi, waiting… Hoping.
Daphne calls back to Temperance, "I'm fine. He's a little banged up. We're trying to get this open!" She goes back to the problem at hand, "I'm not sure what the accepted procedure is for this. If we can't get it open, do we need deck crew?" She gestures to the overturned Raptor. "T-They have their hands full."
Marko tries to get up and fails, having completely forgotten that he's still strapped in. That's enough to break the spell for a moment and get him chuckling ruefully. "Godsdamn, Flasher… rattled much?" he says, shaking his head as he pulls his harness off and fumbles his way towards the hatch. "I gotta go find Bootstrap," he tells Easy. "See if there's anything I can do to help out," he adds.
Cidra surveys the chaos on the deck. Another deep breath. She's neither a mechanical nor a medic, so he leaves them to their work. Spotting unmoving Temperance. She strides in the ensign's direction. "Come here, O'Sullivan," she says, tone level but not overly rough. She's too stunned by all this for much barking, whatever she might want to project to the pilots. She reaches out to take the ensign's arm, to guide her to the sidelines if she can.
Naevi throws her hands up in the air as Hawke tells her off, shaking her head and turning her attention back to the Raptor. As she does so, however, a pair of knuckledraggers turn up just in the nick of time. There isn't a great deal she can do to help as they start to wrench the hatch open, sawing through the twisted metal that keeps the hatch firmly closed. As they do so, they look up towards Quinn and Naevi and ask for them to pull hard on the hatch to wrench it free. Naevi immediately does so, pulling hard to try and free it while they cut.
Damon is running full-tilt onto the Deck, still in his dress grays, clutching a pistol. At least his finger isn't in the trigger housing and the thing's on safety. He grabs a toolbelt and doesn't even bother putting it on, just slings it over his shoulder and assessing the situation with one quick look. Decision. It's Evandreus' upside-down Raptor that gets his attention, and he's double-timing over. "Leverage!" he roars, and grabs something from his belt to start trying to pry it open with.
Quinn's call is, unfortunately, unheard. Damon's, however, is not. As a matter of reflex, Trask is bolting towards Bunny's bird. "Frak," he mutters, realizing his buddy is in bad shape. "On it!" he yells to Damon, immediately assuming the position and applying pressure.
Temperance glances helplessly at everything going on, none of which she can do a single thing about. Cidra comes over and reaches for her arm, and Temperance lets her, goes with her, even though the expression on her face says she clearly wants to do anything but. Once to the sidelines, she looks up at the CAG with dulled eyes. "Yes, sir?" she asks, voice trembling.
Quinn leans over with Naevi, brushing shoulders as she and the other woman take hold of that manual release and…"Three, two… one…" Quinn grunts, putting all her muscle behind it, and that's a good bit of strength as she works on wrenching the thing open with the other pilot. It's a good distraction.
Evandreus tumbles up to the ceiling of his Raptor, at that point, jerking his shoulder in a most uncomfortable fashion and landing on his head— but only momentarily stunned, for all that, as he writhes around to his belly, snake-crawling just a little bit forward, then blanching at the sight of Steffi hanging there limp from the ceiling. Floor. Hands dangling upward like on some macabre roller coaster ride. He gets to his knees, then shuffles back a little as the deckies take force to the hatch.
"Bleeding contained. For now. But there may be some internal…" Hawke gets out of the way as his medical corpsmen move the pilot to a stretcher. "Ok, emergencies, anyone? Who needs the most help?"
Sitka spots Julie emerging from her raptor, and a lost-looking Temperance being herded by the CAG, amidst the chaos. He, unfortunately, is neither technically minded nor people minded; his focus, for now, is on keeping his hand steady while he completes his checklist. This is what impotence feels like.
Rojas' tucks in close to the jammed viper, eyeing the stuck release. As his brain works out how exactly to get this done quick, Lasher gets a quick thumbs up, and a slightly over-forced grin. From a pocket on his flight suit comes… a screwdriver. With little further ado and only some tongue-poking, the business end is shoved into a tiny gap between handle and the metal surrounding it. A little wiggle, a little MORE wiggling and then a heavy-set elbow pops the frame and releases the handle, canopy almost bending under the released pressure.
Julie offers a hand to Marko to help him up, smiling sadly, "It's ok, you earned the right to one mistake today." When Marko is up, she follows him off the Raptor but her eyes are only filled with sadness and an emptiness like someone who is not all there.
Medical crews. Everyone shouting. Upside-down birds. Blood and sparks. Tisiphone is staying well and truly out of the way — mostly because of the time it takes the deck crew to get around to letting her sign off. The only way she could be lower priority would be to have not been aboard at all. Finally, though, an ashen-faced deckie appears to collect the ashen-faced Ensign's sign-off, and then she's free to… to… With so much going wrong all at once, she just stands there, staring blankly about.
The torque wrench bends and bows - it's not meant for trying to pry a sealed door open. Damon yells in frustration, throwing off his tunic and sash. "Together, one, two, three!" Again. And again. And again. The door starts to give, just a little bit - but it's enough to shimmy their leverage in just a little deeper and keep jamming on it.
[TAC3] "Oneida" Antares says, "*crackle* -us…*static*…gods help…civilians…"
Naevi lets out a loud, angry shout - pent up rage'll do that to you - as the combined efforts of Quinn, the Knuckledraggers and herself rip the hatch free and send it clattering noisily to the deck. She's immediately crawling inside the downed bird, ducking her head to look up at Stiffy dangling from the ceiling and then to Bunny. She glances over towards Quinn, gesturing for her to follow - ranks be damned for now, "I'll undo the straps … can you try and get her to the deck gently and then outside?" She turns her attention to the motionless ECO, "Hey, Stiffy. I'm just gonna undo your buckles, here. We'll catch you." She has no idea if the woman is alive or not but she'll keep talking to her regardless.
Quinn grunts louder, trying to push the door, put as much force into it as possible. It's a damned good distraction, throwing her breathless, a bit more sweat joining the already dried lines of it on her forehead. She keeps pushing, thinking nothing else but getting her man and stiffy out of that craft. And then it's open. "Frak, thank gods…" She gasps out, dashing inside with Naevi. She gives Evan a momentary look, but then she sees the unconscious — possibly dead — Stiffy and her mind gets to work with that. "Yeah, I got her, Nae." She calls to the woman, more familiarly than she's ever spoken before… but war throws people a lot closer than they would be. She reaches up, using all that farm-girl strength to gently take Stiffy into her arms. Now a complete iciness has taken over her face.
"Owww…" There's Allie, back among the living to realize that being moved hurts, the jostling of her body as it's dragged out of the wrecked ship and laid out on the gurney painful. A hand flaps ineffectively as she tries to ward off whatever poking and prodding is to be had, then.
<FS3> Trask rolls Athletic: Good Success.
With a grunt of exertion, Trask throws his all into it. That rockin' body is more than just nice to look at; it's strong. His face starting to turn red from the strain, he gives that last oomph that gets the hatch to give way. That done, he deeply exhales and pants for a few moments, trying to regain his breath. Even so, he's asking, "H-" Pant. "Hhhhow's Bunny?'
"Come here, Ensign," Cidra says, trying to keep her eyes focused on Temperance as she herds her off to one side. Cidra's gaze, if Temperance meets it, is well cracked from the composure she manages to cloak herself in usually. Her blues are wide and there's a wild look behind them, her mind clearly reeling with a thousand thoughts. But she keeps herself on task, at least. "It is over now." It's unclear precisely what her meaning is in that. Perhaps she doesn't even know herself. If it's meant to be comforting, her tone falls flat of that.
"Heh, yeah, think I did at that," Marko says, fumbling towards the hatch on legs best described as 'rubbery' and 'uncertain'. He doesn't so much walk down the ramp as slides, only managing not to fall by virtue of the craft's design, and not his questionable dexterity. "I gotta go find Bootstrap or the CAG or… or somebody…" he calls to Easy. "Whatever it was that hit us is still in our ship's memory," he says. "If we can get a copy of it, maybe somebody can do something with it."
Daphne nods appreciatively to Rojas, "Good deal. Good deal." She turns and waves her arms again, "Need a stretcher over here. Scrapes and bruises."
Sitka finishes scribbling his signature at the bottom of the checklist, pawns it off on a passing technician somewhat fumblingly, and eventually pivots to head over to where Tisiphone is standing like a dinghy trapped in eight foot ocean swells. His hand closes over her shoulder, and he murmurs something quietly to her before catching a snippet of conversation nearby. "Scaurus. Grab the drive, and make sure it gets to the CAG. She's right over there." He hitches his chin in Cidra's direction, off on the sidelines with Temperance.
Finally, Lasher's cockpit releases, and the canopy flies open. The Viper pilot's hand shakes as he yanks off his helmet; his face and hair are soaked/matted by a combination of sweat and blood, and he's breathing heavily. "Thanks," is spoken breathlessly to Rojas. After a moment's wait, he slowly pulls himself out of the seat and out of the craft. There's a heartstopping stumble as his legs briefly get tangled up as he tries to climb down, but somehow he manages to right himself and not fall face first to the deck. There's a stunned expression on his face that seems to be from more than just his minor wounds, as the dazed pilot takes several halting steps away from his busted Viper.
Evandreus can't even move for watching Naevi and the Captain go to work on Stiffy. He shakily gets to one foot, then the other, "I'm here, Boots, I'm okay, it's Stiffy, she's not saying anything," he lets him know where the trouble is.
Seeing Lasher emerge, Hawke zooms over and soon has a stretcher nearby to accept the broken pilot. "Careful, son… head injuries are nothing to play around with."
Rojas steps away from the cockpit once the canopy is clear, raises his eyebrows just a smidge at the sight of Lasher's face. He's got blood where Rojas' has oil and dirt. "Man…" He stares, stepping forward, almost as if to catch him on the tumble outwards. "You look like shit."
The hatch is open, and the pilots are taking care of their own. Damon doesn't care about the damage to the upside-down Raptor right now - he needs to get this hangar under control. "Where the frak is my team!" he screams to the deck, his voice carrying impressively even with all the noise and chaos going on. But there's no answer. His team's either already up to their necks with problems, or Gods-know-where. Turning to Trask, he asks, "The Chief, Sir - have you seen the Chief?"
Julie nods to Marko and replies, "Alright, let's get a specialist team to download the information and get it to the CIC. I'm guessing all of the birds are probably still rockin' that virus."
Marko nods to Shiv and ducks back inside the Raptor to snag the ECO console's hard drive, collecting his note as he goes. "I'm okay, Doc, really. Don't even have a scratch. "I'm just… a bit frakked up at the moment," he says to the Doctor. "I gotta get this drive to the CAG, then, I think I'm going to throw up."
Temperance shakes her head slowly at Cidra, another tear rolling down her face. "You have ta give me somethin' ta do, sir," she says quietly. "I can't jus'…" She gestures out helplessly to the scene in front of them, pilots - friends injured, people dazed and panicked. Picon nuked, basestars everywhere. "Please," she breathes.
"Okay," Naevi calls to the assembled pilots now helping with the upside-down Raptor, "I'm releasing the straps now. Don't drop her!" With that, she reaches up and undoes the buckle that is keeping Stiffy confined to the chair on the ceiling-floor. She immediately reaches out to hold onto her, aiding in slowing her descent.
His breathing still a little labored, Trask shakes his head and tells Damon, "Not since the soiree. Haven't heard any bad news, though. Best get on the horn an' page him."
[TAC3] Kulko grabs a headset and keys it up. "Praetorian, Corsair, this is Cerberus. Prepare for jump to last wargame position. Clock to start on my mark."
Blink. Blink-blink. Tisiphone looks over at Sitka with a violent start and an owl-like snap of her head. "Yeah!" she blurts, automatic pilot. Another blink, and then the answer is somewhere closer to genuine. "Yeah. Yessir. I'm fine." For whatever vanishingly small value of 'fine' exists right now. "Where should I help, Sir?" With no Lieutenants around, it's up to the Captains to know everything in their stead.
"You'll be ok…" Hawke says, breathing a bit easier as he steps away from Lasher's wounds, now properly field bandaged. "Get him to sickbay, but low on triage. He can take it."
Quinn reaches her arms up, bracing her legs, knees slightly bent, for the catch/gentle lowering of the woman. Probably she shouldn't be moving, but she can't just -stay- hanging from the ceiling, broken back or neck or whatever. Maggie nods to Naevi in thanks for the help, "We need a stretcher here, now." And with the woman's assistance, she gently begins to carry Stiffy to that stretcher. She hasn't even gotten the courage to check for a pulse yet, hoping she's not carrying one of her squadron, dead…
"Yeah." Again with nothing more than a monosyllabic reply, Laskaris' accented voice is raspy as he responds to Rojas. The pilot grimaces, wiping at his forehead with the sleeve of his flightsuit. He seems to recover a bit as Hawke finishes his work; anger is starting to replace confusion on his features. That's a good thing, isn't it? Still, even with a light head injury, they're not taking any chances, and he'll be put on a stretcher like all the others for a trip up to sickbay.
Cidra regards both Tisiphone and Temperance. Deep breath. "Medical will need help carrying the stretchers. Do that under their direction." It'll keep them occupied, at least, and give them something simple and useful to do. "When you have done that, O'Sullivan, go with Aphostolos back to the Viper berthings. Look after each other."
Alessandra's attempt at being combative gets nothing but a slight snort and then they're off, carting their injured pilot off, getting her to where she can be better checked out and treated.
More or less recovered, Trask gets back to business. "Right. Where d'ya need me? Until the Chief gets here, you're in-charge," he tells Damon. "I can do it all, so just point." Really. He can.
Marko, realizing that he wasn't actually being addressed by the doc at the moment, yay for post-traumatic stress, ducks into the Raptor and makes quick work of snagging the hard drive from his console. Tucking it under his arm, he makes his way over to Cidra. "Sir, I've got something you might wanna see."
With Lasher being carried off, Daphne basically stands there, looking lost now that her self-appointed task has been handled once way or another. She just looks from section to section, eyes focusing on nothing at all. Dimly, she realizes she's in shock. "It's going to hurt like a bitch when I calm down."
Hearing the call for a stretcher, Hawke heads immediatley with his team to where Quinn holds her teammate. His eyes find hers, and are firm. "Put him on the Stretcher, Captain." As his people take Stiffy onto the stretcher, he then goes to the stretcher, and starts to do his stuff. You know, Medical stuff. Without taking his eyes from his work, he mentions… "Get upstairs into triage yourself, Captain. That is a direct order from the senior medical officer. Not a polite suggestion."
Sitka cuts his eyes across the bay to where Tisiphone's viper is in the process of being refueled. "Well, by the looks of it you've got at least fifteen minutes before your ride's ready to go again, if we're called back to action stations. Why don't you go grab a quick shower? If the CAG needs you out here, you'll get the call." He gives Tisiphone's shoulder a firm squeeze, slants her a smile that's wan at best, and trudges off again on an intercept course toward Cidra.
"Frak," Damon hisses. AE Lead, sure. Acting Chief in absentia? Give the man a moment to spin. Panic hits his face for a moment, his eyes flashing as he looks about him, taking in the utter madness that has become the hangar bay. "Once all the pilots are accounted for, we need to start clearing this hangar floor," he says to Trask, his voice hoarse and unsteady to start. "This is a massive accident just waiting to happen. One minor fuel leak from a crashed bird…" The rest need not be said.
Good deed for the day done, Rojas takes a moment. Then another. A couple of deep breaths to collect his thoughts, then the pilot does a very un-piloty thing. He heads back to his own slightly broken Viper and begins to.. well, gather the 'bits that dropped off.' It's simple non-obtrusive work, and while it's not his job, it's something to occupy his mind.
With a nod, Trask replies, "I'll check the headcount. You start the sweep." Then he is off towards the CAG. "Major! Major, I need a headcount! Is everyone accounted for?" As he draws closer, he stops yelling. "We need to clear the deck." Right. Now.
Evandreus follows Naevi and the Captain, keeping his distance, a force of habit making him look around the strange upside-down cabin in order to make sure nobody else is still on board before he steps up and over the wrong side of the hatch, stumbling out numb-footed onto deck and looking at the wrecked bird before turning his attention back to the people loading Stiffy up onto the stretcher to take her away.
Julie keeps up with Marko and nods to Cidra, "Sir, Flasher has the data from our Raptor, it might be good for us to get it up to CIC for some analysts to look at or something." She has her hands behind her back, awaiting Cidra's reply.
Temperance nods silently to Cidra, and then she's off like a bowstring pulled taunt and suddenly let go, dashing to Hawke's side. "Ensign O'Sullivan, here ta help!" she rattles out, watching the doctor anxiously. "Anythin' ya need, jus' give me somethin' ta do." While she waits for her answer, she glances over to Evandreus and watches him, compassion in her eyes. If only she could fix all of it.
Having helped Stiffy out and onto a stretcher, Naevi immediately turns back towards the Raptor's pilot to focus her attention upon Evandreus. She looks him over carefully. She's not a medical professional but she figures she'll notice any obvious injuries and be able to draw the Doc's attention or the attention of one of his helpers. She speaks to him as she looks at him, pushing curly hair up and out of the way to try and find any cuts or bruises on his head, "Hey, Bunny. That was a hell of a landing. You should join the circus, huh?" She attempts to make eye contact the entire time.
More stunned blinking, first at Sitka, then at Cidra. It takes Tisiphone a while, but her brain spins back up to life; a second later she's pushing off, long legs carrying her to the medical crew. In a thready but determined voice, she says to them: "Here to help with the stretchers. Who needs a hand?" As soon as a pair of empty stretcher arms are indicated, she crouches to pick them up.
Evandreus is still in his helmet, as well as the rest of his flight suit, but nothing is torn and no blood is leaking from anywhere, and even if he looks a little pale from behind the faceplate, well— that could be any number of things, including the glare from the deck lights making him look so ghostly. His eyes finally meet Naevi's through the glass, and he lets out a weak little laugh. "Huh-huh," is all he manages, for the moment.
Safety. Right. Damon's half-dressed in his grays, toolbelt over his shoulder, pistol in hand. But this isn't a time for doing everything by the book - this is a time to just get it done. "Deck crew who aren't helping with pilot extraction, on me!" he yells. He starts handing out the orders, rattling them off back-to-back with no pause in between. The walkdown of the deck. Checking the crashed birds for safety concerns, fuel leaks, volatile munitions. A runner to find the Chief and to call any off-duty knuckledraggers down. "Look frakkin' lively," he says, and sends them all double-timing on their respective ways.
Cidra nods shortly to Julie. "Certainly, Lieutenant. Take it to them. They may be dealing with more pressing matters at the moment, but deliver it as you can. Then grab a shower and be ready if we are called out again." Another look back at the Deck. She gives her head a shake. Still trying to orient her thoughts properly. She stays where she is, so Sitka can easily intercept her.
[Intercom] Tillman says, "Attention all hands! Prepare to jump in Two-Five Seconds. This is the final call."
Once Maggie gets Stiffy onto the stretcher, she lingers just a moment, making certain that medical is looking the woman over before she steps away. They wouldn't be working on her if she was dead, right? Maggie takes a breath and then just turns back to the group. Naevi she barely knows. Trask is in work mode… but poor Bunny is looking like a lost lamb over there. She's still in ice mode herself, not a single emotion on her face, but she crosses towards Evandreus even as he speaks to Naevi. Suddenly, the younger Raptor pilot will find himself being hugged tightly… ever so tightly, by his SL. "…We're here, Evan… We made it." She whispers against his hair, not letting go yet, just holding him tight.
[TAC3] Kulko comes over the channel. "Corsair, Praetorian, this is Cerberus. FTL in three-zero seconds, mark." A moment's pause. "See you on the other side."
"Lemme get your helmet off," Naevi says quietly to Evandreus, reaching for the seal to try and loosen it so she can lift it away if he'll let her, "How about we get you to a-" As Quinn darts in to hug Bunny, she slips out of the way so she can let the pair of them share their moment. Unwilling to get in the way, she turns around and trots off to see if there is anywhere else she might be of use.
Lasher's still waiting on a ride to sickbay, being that he's one of the more minor cases. He doesn't seem to object, though, as his eyes silently survey the carnage around him. His hand comes up to cover his mouth as a racking cough tears its way loose from his throat; his gaze shifts upwards as the intercom sounds, and his other hand reaches up to pull his forgotten seal collar off his neck.
Rojas is torn. So very, very torn. As much as he'd love to keep working to clear the deck and fix up any immediate issues… protocol takes over. With a weary hand wiping clear his eyes, the pilot abandons his Viper to those who get paid to do it. He's clearing the deck, double-time.
In the meanwhile, Cidra grabs a medic to get a firm head-count on the pilots Medical's hauled off the deck. Then to Trask. "All personnel accounted for, Lieutenant." To herself, more softly she adds, "Thank gods." Ahem. "Clear the deck."
Julie grabs Marko gently by the arm to steer him up towards the CIC with her, "Come on, Flasher, let's get ourselves up to the CIC. We'll make sure this is in the right hands and get cleaned up so we can help with whatever is needed."
Hawke works crazily on Stiffy, then backs off. "That's what I can do for now. She'll be okay, so long as we can…" The Intercom comes on and he shakes his head. "I HATE these jumps. Ok, you!" he points to Evandreus. "Onto the stretcher, I'll tend you as we head up. Everyone clear this deck…"
"Sir," Marko replies, finding himself saluting as if on auto-pilot and nodding to Easy as he lets her guide his way to the stairwell, pausing for a moment to vomit in a trash barrel as they go.
Sitka leaves Tisiphone to her task(s), and rounds on the poor CAG as she's being deluged by the other pilots. He skirts out of Julie's way, and steps in on Cidra's three o'clock, turning to face the same direction as she. "Any word on what the frak's going on, yet, sir?" The faintest trace of a tremor might be detected in his voice. Or it might not. His blue eyes lock on hers. "It's been nearly an hour by my count. Some of them are starting to panic."
Evandreus gives a quiet wobble of his head, lifting his own hands to try to help Naevi with the seal, still looking into her eyes as if she were kind of helping attach him to the world for the moment. His mouth opens as a pair of arms comes around him. He doesn't fight against it, despite the new shoot of pain that jabs at his shoulder from where he jerked it falling to the ceiling. He just grows just that much more pallid, turning his head to look toward his Captain.
Daphne snaps out of it, nods to herself, and simply walks off of the hangar as if nothing was happening. She glances about and looks for Tisiphone but doesn't seem to catch her, so she just steps out to the stairwell.
With a decisive nod, Trask actually looks relieved without being all that emotional about it. "See you soon, sir." That said, he starts to bellow like a good almost-was-a-Deck Chief should. "Prepare for jump! Get the frak out or take cover! Now!"
Quinn isn't leaving Evandreus' side. "Come on. Stretcher, Bunny, then we're out of here." She lets him go enough that he can get himself onto the stretcher, then gives Naevi a brief look. "Thank you, Ensign…" Before she's double timing it, at the stretcher's side, to the hatch. Time to get the hell out of dodge. Hopefully, they have time.
"Major!" Damon calls out to Cidra, catching sight of her for the first time since he ran onto the hangar floor. He moves over to her, swallowing hard. "Major, what's our priority here? I need to know if we're sending birds right back out there immediately after our jump, or if that's not likely to happen for a bit. I have zero situational awareness on the ground right now."
Evandreus has legs, but can barely feel them, the state he's in at present. And so he doesn't complain, but crawls up onto the stretcher, laying down, looking up at the ceiling and trying to remember how air works.
Naevi offers a thin, half-smile to Quinn along with an abbreviated salute as she watches them disappear off to be medicalized. It is now, standing in the middle of the diminishing chaos without something to take her mind off things, that reality strikes her square in the face. She looks down at the deck, as though suddenly perplexed by the floor, and unzips the front of her flightsuit. She fishes a ring out from the fatigues she wears underneath, turning it over in her fingers before she lifts her gaze to the ceiling - looking thoroughly perplexed.
The order to clear the deck is given, and the medical crew starts moving its caravan of stretchers toward Sick Bay. Tisiphone goes along with them, silent and still-pale, carrying one end of a stretcher.
"We'll need to launch a CAP as soon as we're able following the jump, Petty Officer. Those… things… have planes ready as soon as you're able to launch safely from here," Cidra replies to Damon.
It's Lasher's stretcher Tisiphone has, by chance. The lightly wounded pilot offers a soft grunt of greeting as he's lifted and carried away.
"Naevi!" barks the Petrels' Captain upon spotting the lost-looking Ensign, "clear the deck, on the double! You too, Rojas."
"Huh," Naevi turns her head when she hears her name, immediately breaking into a run for the stairs and heading up them at speed. She has no idea where she's going to go but she has to clear the deck so clear the deck she does.
Rojas is waaaay ahead of the Captain. Well, just enough that he's out of harms way when the 'You too' reaches him. A weary "Sir!" shows how much he's dealing with. Guy's gone native.
Trask just happens to be within earshot of the AE lead and the CAG. "I'll get started on the Raptors, PO, unless you want me elsewhere."
Hawke doesn't give her any direction, and so Temperance is left by the wayside. Stepping backwards numbly, she watches as they leave. Overhearing Cidra, she steps forward and calls out, "I'll go, sir. On th' CAP. I'm uninjured, m'bird is fine." She stares blanky at the CAG, Damon, and anyone working near them. "I'm good ta go," she says weakly.
Damon purses his lips, and his biceps twitch. Given the state of the deck, saying that bringing it back to full operational capacity is going to be difficult is an understatement of several magnitudes. But his heels come together and he raises a salute, soldier instincts overriding his panic and sinking dismay, clearly evident on his face. "Aye, aye, Sir!" he just about bellows, and heads back to do his job. "I want to get that crashed Raptor taken care of as first priority, Sir," he says in response to Trask, moving fast toward the craft in question. "This thing's my biggest worry right now. And then we can clear the rest of this mess."
"On it, PO. Later, Major." He doesn't even bother with a cursory salute. Bootstrap is instead heading back to Bunny's Raptor, rounding up whatever deckhands are about. In short order, the lot of them get to work.
Cidra does turn to Sitka when she's a moment to. Another deep breath. "I know as much as you do, Captain. Somehow, tonight… Cylons attacked Picon. More… we shall have to get word from CIC." A grave nod about the pilots. Speaking of. There's Temperance. She eyes the younger woman gravely. "It shall have to be one of the lieutenants out on the next go, Ensign. There is… we do not know what we will face out there. But consider yourself on-call if more support is needed. Now, hit the showers."
Cidra lets Trask scurry off as he will, of course.
Sitka observes the back of Trask's head for a moment or three before dragging his eyes back to Cidra. He nods slightly to what she says, and rubs the back of a gloved hand across a blood spatter (not his) congealing on his cheek. "Anything else you need from me, sir?" is asked a little shakily.
Trask's taking care of the flipped Raptor, and Damon figures there's no need to needlessly intimidate the crew working with him by having an officer and the AE Lead managing them. "Thanks," he says to the ECO, and moves away to handle one of the Vipers instead. "I want run-downs on all these birds," he says to the workers around him. "Once you're sure they're safe to move, get 'em across to the repair bay. I want this deck cleared of damaged ships, and a full FOD walkdown. Let's move!"
"Take a shower, Captain," Cidra replies to Sitka. Then, after regarding him a moment adds, "And ready yourself to go out with the new air patrol launched. The Mark Twos seemed to handle themselves… well. It was less of a cluster-frak." That may be the first time he's heard Cidra swear.
Temperance hangs her head sadly and watches everyone run around like mad for a moment before making her way towards the stairwell. To say she looks disappointed is an understatement. "Yes, sir," she murmurs, leaving quietly. Although whether she's actually headed to the showers is probably doubtful.
Cidra's not-so-subtle hint garners a crooked smile from the Petrels' Captain. His helmet comes up in a halfhearted salute. "Yes, sir." Two steps back, boots clanking against the deck. "Aside from the three birds we lost in the initial strike…" His mind starts to drift there. Likely to the three pilots he'd served with for the better part of four years. He shakes his head as if to clear it. "We didn't have too much trouble up there. I'll make sure my squad knows they'll be first to go, sir." Blue eyes linger on blue a second more, then he pivots and heads for the stairs.
Cidra just bows her head at mention of those first fallen pilots. She's not far behind off the hangar deck, though she does turn for a moment and just stare at the after match of the chaos. She finally has to force herself to turn away.
The deck is abustle with activity. The crew present are running every which way, some of them numb and dumbstruck until someone else gets them into gear. With Atreus unseen - most likely elsewhere and needed by higher - Damon does his best to get everything in order, get the knuckledraggers moving, and get the hangar floor cleared. Once everything's set in order, he grabs his discarded tunic and sash, calling over another PO to put her in charge for the time being - he needs to get himself get out of his grays and into proper gear, and find the Chief. And off he goes.