PHD #043: EVENT - Clankers - Smokescreen
Clankers - Smokescreen
Summary: Guess who storms the hangar? (Hint: it's not cranky pilots.)
Date: 11 Apr 2041 AE
Related Logs: Concurrent with Blackout, Hammer and Anvil, The Heart of It All; followed by Blood for Blood
Cappella Cilusia Damon Oberlin Sitka Temperance Trask NPC Tucana 
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.
Post Holocaust Day: #43

As we join the returning pilots and ECO, they are in the process of going through the requisite post-flight checks. Unlike some of the recent events in Air Wing, this most just concluded CAP has been uneventful. As part of training the ensigns, Trask was assigned to fly with O'Sullivan, whom he recently bestowed with the callsign of Knickers.

While his wingman and erstwhile CAP mate finishes signing off on his post-flight, and departs the 'bay in record time, Shiv's still tinkering with a few things on his list. He's using the flank of his red and white fighter as a prop for his clipboard, and looks over only long enough to flash the ginger Ensign a quick smile as he claps his squad leader across the shoulder and heads up the stairs. Scribble, scribble, scratch, scratch.

Temperance finally finishes her list and starts to exit the bird, yanking her helmet off as she goes. Turning to Trask, she arches an eyebrow and speaks directly to him for what is likely the first non-CAP related thing she's said since they piled in the ship. "Anybody come find ya thinkin' ya were dead?" she asks with a smirk. She catches Sitka's grin and squirms. She really /meant/ to come and see him when he asked her to. Really. She just got… busy.

Having been a knuckledragger before an ECO, Trask is extra thorough when it comes to all the checks. "Yep," he replies to Temperance, jotting down something or another. "One or two were even happy to find that reports of my demise were grossly exaggerated." Letting his voice get a little louder so Sitka can certainly hear him, "Shiv wasn't one of 'em, though. Or did you cry in your bunk when you heard the news?" A mischievous smirk is offered to the Captain.

Well, if it's any consolation, the Captain doesn't seem too put out by it. If he even remembers. Old age and senility, and all that. He untucks a slip of paper from one of the many and sundry pockets of his flight suit, briefly scans its contents, and pins it against the clipboard with his other hand while he continues detailing something or other. When Trask calls over to him, he chuckles, but keeps his eyes on his work while he replies, "I'm glad you all got back fine, Kal. If you didn't, who'd we have to torment the rookies, huh?"

"Go' forbid we get by wi'ou' somebody tormentin' us," Temperance mutters under her breath, but it's said with a grin. "Tisiphone punched somebody fer me," she announces to no one in particular. Of course, that's not what happened at all, but that's either what she's been told, or it's how she chose to interpret it.

"I'd like to think that someone would carry on the tradition," Bootstrap tells the Petrel prime, still scribbling, "but most of you are too soft, Lasher's inconsistent, and I hear that Spiral is an asshole solely for the sake of being an asshole." As opposed to Trask, who tends to use his jerkassery to educate. As the saying goes, a harsh teacher still teaches. "I'd consider grooming a successor, but there's a distinct lack of qualified candidates." Finishing his report, brown eyes lift from the clipboard to peer at Temperance. "Really, now?" Apostolos' action appears to be intriguing. "She still in the brig?" That's what tends to happen when someone throws a punch. After planting his signature on the list, he facetiously says to Sitka, "They grow so quickly." Aww. Cute widdle ensigns.

It's a little difficult to tell with him, but Sitka's tone sounded a little dry. It might've been facetiousness. He looks over briefly when the redhead mentions Tisiphone and punching, though doesn't so much as pause in his jotting down of information. Viper pilots getting into scraps apparently isn't noteworthy enough to ping his radar. "Sorry," he murmurs to Trask, easing away from his lean against the viper, and tucking the clipboard under his arm as he begins his walkaround of the strike craft, "I've already been there and done that. Mostly on the receiving end. I think I'm too old for those sorts of hijinks." He flashes a quick smile the taller officer's way before ducking under a wing, blue eyes subtly amused.

Temperance shrugs at Trask. "Ain't sure, ta be honest. Go' debriefed last nigh' an' went ta bed, go' up an' came 'ere fer CAP same's you. Ain't 'ad th'time ta go an' see iffn' she's there atall." As much as she'd like to revel in having Trask's attention in a way that doesn't involve hangovers or underwear, something about Sitka's smile and subtly amused blue eyes cause her to call, "Cap'n Sitka?" and wait for him to duck back around the wing.

Whether or not Sitka was being facetious is irrelevant; Trask would've made the same comment regardless of the nature of the prompting. To the rest of what the Captain says, the JiG replies, "Rites of Passage, Shiv." He leaves it at that. Depositing the clipboard with the appropriate deckhand, he vaguely nods to what Temperance said. "You young'uns need to learn that hitting people is not the correct way to deal with problems in the military. Looks like I'm gonna need to hold a class on how to properly administer comeuppance."

Sitka goes down onto one knee, and reaches up to flip open a panel in his viper's wing assembly. After stripping off his glove, he begins poking around inside, undaunted by the grease he's smearing on his fingers. A mechanic he isn't, but he does appear to know his way around his own bird. Be familiar with what you fly, and all that. After jotting something else down, he slaps the panel closed, climbs out from under the wing, and eases back to his feet with a soft grunt. Them knees ain't what they used to be. "Yeah?" is his somewhat distracted response to Temperance, once he realises she's talking to him. Trask's last remark gains another briefly amused look from the Captain.

Temperance, realizing Sitka's not free to come back around, walks over to get a clear shot of what he's doing, and shrugs apologetically. "Sorry I didn't ge' back ta ya, t'other day when I were so upset, an' ya asked me ta come find ya later. I weren't, uhh…I weren't 'zactly in th' greatest'a places at th'time. An' ta be hones' it rather slipped m'mind. But I'm free now, iffn' ya wanted ta have tha' conversation. 'Less it's a bad time fer ya." She gives him a really sheepish look.

"Somethin' amiss with your bird, Shiv?" It's a genuine question. Unlike the Captain, Trask /is/ a mechanic who's worked with Vipers, Raptors, and the like for many years. All of which is probably why he starts moseying that way. For whatever reason, he doesn't comment about what the redhead just said.

Sitka looks over at a few orange jumpsuited deck crew hauling an engine out of a nearby Mark VII, then back to Temperance briefly. His pen's clicked off, clicked on, clicked off. Viper pilots and their fidgety hands. "Hey, no problem. Seemed like you were having a pretty shitty day." He smiles faintly, though doesn't quite meet her eyes. "Uh.. I'm not sure," he tells Trask, while handing off his post-flight to a passing technician, "Engine two's felt a little sluggish lately. Either that, or I've gotten soft on my unloaded extensions.." And then belatedly, with a gesture of his pen toward Temperance before it's tucked into his flight suit, "It's not a big deal, really. Just an idea I had. To help take your mind off things."

From the direction of the repair bay, one of the orange-clad deckies comes racing out. The MPs stationed on either side of the door have disappeared inside, shouldering their carbines at the sounds of rhythmic THUMPing-come-WHUMPing-come HOLY FRAKKING SHIT there's a HOLE in the wall with glowing red eyes. The sound of the explosive, a point-focused demo charge is likely audible in the hangar bay. Large, heavy wrench in hand, the deckie beelines for the nearest come box, picking up the receiver and talking into it.

"An idea?" Temperance repeats with a big grin. "Like wha' kinda…" she trails off, catching sight of the orange Deck crew running in, and hearing the explosion and the mechanical steps all at the same time. She looks over at Sitka in confusion, but then the announcement goes out over the intercom and she /yanks/ her gun out, pointing it out in front of her with no confidence at all. "Sir!" she cries out, but who knows which one of them she's talking to.

Upon hearing the demo charge go off, Trask thinks 'what the..?' When the Deckie's announcement is made, the thought is 'frak', followed by 'oh, shit, the Raider!' When Condition One is set, he's still stuck on 'oh, shit, the Raider!' Hey, the guy is an aerospace engineer who's been working on that sweet piece of alien technology for the past two weeks. Something would be wrong if he wasn't worried about the Cylon ship. It's only when the sounds gunfire and screaming register that his thought becomes 'oh, shit, Cylons are here and on a frakking rampage!' That's when he unholsters his firearm and assumes the appropriate emergency stance taught in Flight School. Odds are he'll soon enough revert to knuckledragger protocol.

[Intercom] Oberlin says, "All hands, hostile contacts reported aboardship. Adhere to Boarding Protocol Constellation Deacon-Niner."

What in the name of— "Shit." That's muttered under the Captain's breath, once the reality of what's going on comes crashing down, to the tune of a bulkhead wall exploding and a red eye scanning through the twisted mess. He turns, and flattens his back against his viper, drawing his sidearm with the sort of practiced efficiency that suggests it's guided by instinct rather than intellect. "O'Sullivan, get down!" He goes so far as to grab at the shoulder of her flight suit, and attempt to drag her back to cover with him. "Kal, how many do you see?" His weapon stays up, cocked against his shoulder while his other hand is (hopefully) fisted in the Ensign's sleeve still. "Petty Officer!" is called across to Cilusia, "Report!" Assuming she can hear him over everything else going on.

In the distance, there's the sound of gunfire, screaming, and a couple other unpleasant things, coming from the area of the Repair Bay. Maybe the Heavy Raider woke up on its own and decided it didn't like its new friends. Cappella and Damon soon follow outwards, Damon dragging the corpse of a marine as he does so, and he's finally flanked by the other MP who shoots off a volley of fire into the repair bay as the emergency door comes crashing down. There's the sound of cannon fire and a THUMP. THUMP. CLANK. CLANK. CLANK. CLANK in the distance behind the security door. Whatever's in there doesn't seem to like doors.

The sound doesn't lessen any when the door comes crashing down between the deck and the repair bay. Cilusia puts the com handset back on the box, but shakily, and it falls down and dangles by the cord. "Two… maybe more Centurions! Blew a hole through the side… came after that thumping sound. Explosive. They might still have some!" That's probably why she gets the frak away from the sealed door, helping another deckie from the repair bay limp out by getting his arm around her shoulder.

The Engineering Lieutenant is just clearing the safety on his newly acquired pistol as he comes through the door backwards, the Marine on his heels, "We have two…" He looks at the dead marine, "Three down, multiple targets. They came through the hull, but no loss of pressure, they must be attached outside. Someone secure that marines weapons, and make sure the bridge has been informed.

The only things that stop Temperance from crying out when that red eye glances into the hangar bay are her teeth chomping down on her lower lip, and Sitka's hand gripping her arm. She gladly is dragged to cover, still waving her gun around wildly, and misses Cappella and Damon's entrance, and Cilusia's response. She can't see Trask where she is, either. "Wha' d'we do?" she whispers harshly to Sitka.

As the hatch to the Repair Bay closes, Damon stops dragging the Marine. "Sorry," he mutters under his breath. Somehow, he's managing not to throw up while handing the shot-up body, taking the man's rifle and magazines. The rifle's slung, the magazines dropped into his pockets. The pistol's also liberated. "Fasi." The pistol slides across the floor to her feet. Standing back up and moving to where the others are, he asks, "If we get a Viper pointed toward that hatch…" he says, pointing to where the CLANK CLANK CLANK continuously sounds. "For when they breach, I mean."

"More than I wanna see," Trask unhelpfully informs Sitka. Granted, Cilusia just gave the 411. Without thinking, and while there is still time to do so, the ECO darts back to the Raptor he just spent the past 4 hours in. Buttons pressed, switches flipped, he starts to power-up the bird and load the ECM suite.

[Intercom] "Now hear this! Intruders have breached Sickbay, say again, intruders have breached Sickbay and are proceeding up the stairwell to — gurgleCLANK. CLANK. CLANK.static"

Cappella cusses under his breath as he hears the announcement, "They are throughout the ship, we can't assume we are getting any reinforcements. We need the most secure position and we HAVE to hold them.

"Focus," is Sitka's answer to Temperance's harsh whisper. "And quit waving that pistol around before you shoot me. Breathe." He squeezes her shoulder once, then releases it, and drops down to one knee with his Five-seveN sighted on the hatch the deck crew are scrambling to clear. "Can you get a line to CIC from your rig, Kal?" is barked over to the ECO, while he covers the deck crew's egress. And then, to the most senior-looking of them, which happens to be Cappella, "We're going to hold the 'bay for now, and start moving toward the weapons lockers if we can. You all have weapons and clips?"

Another pair of MPs comes hustling across the deck, with a pistol and a carbine each as they start to get in position, moving behind a couple of boxes. The one who just pulled out with the deck crew points at the door, "They're getting /louder/." TWHUMP TWHUMP. "Get in a defensible position and prepare to fall back. The hangar passage is clear and we've got a few places to hide." This lone surviving MP, Brenner, from before reaches under his collar and plays with something underneath it, looking down at it. Sighing slightly, he continues, looking eerily calm after doing so. Must be like a religious symbol.

When the pistol is slid to her feet, Cilusia hurries to retrieve it. With a motion that indicates she's done this before, she unsafeties the thing, and pulls back on the top, chambering the first round. Glancing warily at the security door, Cilusia scrambles across deck, making for the pilots who seem to have a much more defensible position behind various Raptors, in particular. "Pistol. One clip. That marine might have a second or third on his person," she says to Sitka, before eyeing the Marines and listening to what they're saying.

Lance Corporal Harlan Brenner, the Marine who was in the hangar bay, seems to have some authority over the other two. He turns towards Sitka now after a quick scan of personnel. "Sir." Identifying the superior officer, he looks back at the other two marines. "Hand over sidearms to unarmed personnel. I already did." And he plays with that chain around his neck again. "I've all the protection I need."

He turns back up to Sitka. "We've got a clear path to the other hangar bay in case of retreat. We've got a couple Marines there too. Best I can do for a sitrep, but what are your orders?"

Temperance looks down at the gun in her hand, shaking all over the place, and she reaches out with her left hand to steady her right arm. "Yessir," she murmurs, following the rest of his advice and taking a few long, deep breathes. She perks up when someone (Damon) mentions getting a Viper pointed at the hatch and glances up at Sitka. "A Viper, a' course. Should I ge' outta yer way, so's ya can move i' inta position?" She eyeshifts over at Trask in the Raptor they just got out of - but she's pretty sure he's not preparing to fly out in it. What's an Ensign supposed to do in this situation? She hasn't got the slightest clue, beyond get out of the way.

Cappella is right there by the bodies, he strips the pistol clip from the dead Marine, and attempts to get any rifle clips to Damon who is grabbing the rifle. He watches the door nervously as he does.

And with that, the two newly-arrived marines will make their pistols available to anyone unarmed at this point.

Damon takes the magazine from Cappella and drops it into his pocket. "I don't know if we have enough time," he says to Temperance. A nervous glance back to the hatch he just closed. "Frak, it's worth a shot." He motions to Cilusia to help him, running across the deck to start turning the closest Viper toward where the Cylons are sure to breach any second now.

[Intercom] "Now hear this! Centurions advancing down from Deck 6! They took the Marine berthings completely by surprise! Casualties high and we're trapped inside — and — oh, frak, frak, frak, I think they got our air supply — request an engineering team now before — DAMMIT, Vonn, the OTHER manual release —"

Can the ECO get a line to CIC? That depends on whether or not the communications in the combat center got frakked. Helmet back on, Trask jumps on TAC1, checking the DRADIS display.

[TAC1] "Bootstrap" Trask says, "CIC, Bootstrap. Do you copy? Two — possibly more — Cylons are attempting to breach Repair Bay into the Port Hangar. Door won't hold much longer. They blew a hole into the bay and may have more explosives. DRADIS is picking up no outside contacts. Again, no outside contacts."

As if he's reading her mind, Sitka asides to Temperance without looking over, "Just guard that hatch, O'Sullivan, and take a count of any good hiding spots you see." His eyes tick over to Brenner, and there's a small nod after the 'report' is given. "You know this stuff better than I do. I'm happy to defer to you, Corporal. For now, like I told those two-" He indicates the raptor duo. "-I, uh, I think we should try to secure this area, and see if we can get in touch with CIC. If we can't, move out as a group and head for weapons storage. With one clip each, we aren't going to last long. There'll also be explosive rounds in the lockers." The message over the intercom doesn't boost his morale much, that's for sure. "Petty Officer," he addresses Damon, "put the viper down and grab any spare clips and weapons you can find. You try to shoot something with thirty millimetre cannons in here, the whole place'll go up."

Cilusia's eyes follow back and forth from Damon to Sitka, as she listens to the banter. What seemed like a good idea at first turns out to be a pretty bad idea, given Sitka's words. So, she continues to hunker down with the others under what cover there is to be found, watching and waiting, pistol in hand.

Despite that fact that he probably won't have enough time to succeed, the ECO attempts to reconfigure the Raptor's sensors with the aim of possibly being able to pick out Centurion signatures.

[TAC1] Oberlin says, "Bootstrap, CIC. Thanks for the sitrep. We read — nothing. Confirmed. It's a mystery. Now get the frak out of that raptor and into position before you die and I get your porn collection."

Cappella moves back to Brenner, reaching out for any pistol clips the Corporal has, and taking a knee lining-up to provide support fire.

Sitka's order to stop with the Viper coincides pretty much right on with Damon dropping what he's doing, hit by an epiphany after Trask's transmission that there's no outside contacts on DRADIS. "They're inside the ship," he whispers - and then repeats it, shouting it to the others. "They're coming from inside the Cerberus! Where the pipes and air ducts are, they're ripping through from the heart of the Battlestar!" He sounds horrified by his own words - and their implications.

[Intercom] "Godsfrakkingdammit, engineering, where the frak is that shitfrakked team? Get the frak up here before — oh, oh shit. oh shit, shit shit — somebody patch that fissure — duct tape for all I frakking care! — clang"

[TAC1] Unsurprisingly, Trask has not left the Raptor. "E-M sigs suggestive of more than two toasters on Deck. Further sigs indicative of destroyed machinery in the fabrication plants. If someone's been building frakkin' Cylons in there…" Whatever the case may be, the Centurions appear to be originating in the Battlestar itself.

"Thanks, Captain. I won't let you down," Brenner says, a little taken aback by Sitka's statement. "Get into position everyone." He waves a hand, and tries to make as much noise as possible until he gets into cover. "Everyone. Given the noise from those reports, they're moving on up the decks. Sending people out on a scouting run might be a death sentence. We've got more munitions with the marines back there." He points at the hangar bay's connecting mechanism as that thumping gets louder and louder, moving behind a rather large tool storage crate. A few minutes pass as people do what they're going to do. And then… There's another loud, smoky explosion as the emergency door bursts open in a hail of gunfire.

As this happens, one of the marines takes a few shots in the face and goes down violently.

[TAC1] Just in case he's not stating the obvious, the ECO adds, "They appear to be tearing through the pipes and ai-" The sentence is shattered by the sound of rapid gunfire. "Frak." Nothing more is said.

Sitka keeps his pistol up, and palmed in both hands as he continues to cover that hatch— which could imminently breach at any moment. Damon's revelation causes the Captain to jerk his head toward the man briefly, then away, then back again. "From inside? Battlestars don't spontaneously generate Centurions, last I checked." Muttered under his breath, "The frak?" Followed by, "Any luck over there, Kal?" The clamour of panicked voices over the intercom should be garnering some sort of reaction. But with no way to help, it looks like he's simply pushing it out of his mind. "You can't get a fix on their—" BOOM. Well, that answers that.

[Intercom] "Now hear this — four — in the Viper — manufacturing — dropped in right on top of — " The voice gasps weakly for breath. "Opening — opening the manual vent. Can't hold — can't — " A harsh and bloody cough. "Frak them up good for us.""

[TAC1] Oberlin says, "This is CIC. I believe the word you're looking for is /run/."

[TAC1] TAC1 remains silent. Either Trask bolted or has been shot.

"Frak me," Damon yelps as the door blasts open. He dives behind the Viper he was trying to turn, fumbling nervously with the rifle to ready it. His back against the hull of the bird, he closes his eyes and mutters under his breath. A curse? A prayer? Rifle coming up between shaky hands, clutched to his chest, he takes a deep breath and prepares to return fire.

"Inside the walls! No loss of pressure… they been on board some time then, moving around. Repair bay. Manufacturing. Sickbay. Marine berthings. That's pretty frakkin' precise, you ask me." Cilusia holds her pistol, palms getting a little clammy, looking up at the ceiling and walls of the deck as if expecting them to fall from the frakkin' sky, literally. She winces and shrinks back behind cover when the door blows open and a burst of lead, every third glowing with tracer, rips through one of the marines out front though, and shakily brings her pistol up to point in that direction.

Cappella just lines up next to Brenner, behind whatever cover they found and opens fire as soon as the doors open, His pistol aiming for the target of the glowing red lights

Temperance stays where she is, trying to use Sitka's Viper for cover. She's got her gun pointed at the hatch as best she can, but this is really the first time she's prepared to point at something that wasn't a fake target on a military course. Her eyes go HUGE when she hears Cilusia suggest they've been here all along, and she grits her teeth and shoots at the first metallic thing to come through that hatch.

Still in his flight suit, as well as the helmet he put back on while inside the Harrier, Trask hauls ass out of said bird and takes cover behind it. This way, he has the option of making like Hermes should he need to run like stockings in the event something explodes.

They start pouring through, firing wildly. Of course, due to the general chaos of the boarding operation, the lead Centurion fires ineffectually into the crowd before either due to training, or sheer divine providence, Sitka and Cappella's pistol shots manage to dig right into the weakest points in the lead Toaster's armor. It goes down in a heap. The bodies of the centurions bear melty bits and scorch marks, indicating they were not in exactly the best place in the worlds. Now, they keep coming.

Brenner puts up his rifle. "My God's rubbing off on you, sirs. NICE SHOT." More of them keep coming, though.

Well, those ugly frakkers have big glowing red eyes, so why not make them into a target, huh? When her first shot pings uselessly off the frakker's neck brace looking armor (but before it goes kablooey thanks to quick-draws 1 and 2 over there), Cilusia takes a little better aim this time: she wants to put a bullet right in that toaster's ugly damn eye, just like Odysseus and the cyclops.

Cappella fires once, one shot right in the red eye, the eye goes dark and the centurion collapses. He smiles at the Corporal, "You just keep your god between us and them." He winks at Brenner and moves his target to another Centurion.

Airy fairy he may be, but Shiv lays into the first tincan to roll out of that blasted-open hatch like he means it. His pistol's cocked, and he shoves away from the viper he'd been using as cover when he sees the machine zero in on Trask. His hand isn't even shaking as he pulls the trigger, and if there was any question as to those rumours of him having done time as a groundpounder… well, maybe they're a little less in question now. Or maybe he's just damned lucky. The single round tears through the Centurion's neck, and all but shears off its head, Cappella's hits serving to finish the job. "Get down!" he calls over his shoulder to Trask. And then drops back against the viper again as more deathbots are disgorged from the gaping hole in the bulkhead. "I don't think your god's got much time for me, Corporal, but thanks." And he hoists up his pistol, and fires again.

It's a good thing for Trask that Sitka and Cappella took down that Centurion, what with how said toaster was shooting at him. Now safely behind the Raptor, he lines up a shot and really hopes that it'll strike true. "You get an item from the porn stash!" the ECO calls out to Sitka, as a means of saying 'thanks for keeping bullets outta my body'.

Damon does as he was taught during that little refresher led by the Marines - what was it, days ago? Weeks ago? Everything's a blur these days. He lays down suppressing fire as best he can as the Cylons breach, and gives a little fistpump as the first goes down. No time for celebrations, though - there's more coming. Resting his rifle against the hull of the Viper he's hiding behind, he carefully tries to line up a shot.

Temperance fires a shot, and hits, but it doesn't really seem to do much. One of the Cylons goes down but there's no time to react to that, seeing as two more are already making their way inside. She takes a quick glance around to make sure nobody's injured (yet) and stays where she is to take aim at one of the new kids on the block.

Trask may be awesome at shooting stuff from inside the cockpit, but he's not such a great shot outside of it. The bullet doesn't even taste Centurion metal.

Cappella fires on the second Centurion, but it does not seem to do much, the bullets hitting the hatch around the metal monster. The former cook doesn't move or flinch though as more red lights appear behind the first four, he just gets a more determined look on his face.

The viper Captain's rounds, too, don't come anywhere close to hitting home during his brief window of opportunity. Flattening his back against the viper once more, he breathes a couple of times. In and out. And then shoves off once more, racks the slide to load another bullet into the chamber, steadies his aim, and fires on the Centurion that was pouring rounds into Damon.

They just keep coming. Machines, programmed for death. Whump. Whump. Whump. Clank. Clank. Clank. The other marine takes a hit as he brings his gun up to fire, grazed. "Augh!!!" He starts fumbling at his belt. "There's more of em! Throwing smoke! All of you, get /back!/ Fall back to the hangar! We got defenses there!" He throws a grenade with a sloppy lob in front of the Cylons which hisses, and then trains his rifle on some kind of canister nearby. This is the Colonial equivalent of crossing the streams. Also a really bad idea in a general sense, but if he survives, he'll get his ass chewed later.

Meanwhile, one of the centurions takes some massive damage, but keeps shambling along, deathless. More pour through. Brenner comes up, fires, and continues, "Feh! My God's got time for everyone. Especially you, Captain!" He calls out. These damn Gemenese. He's unflappable though, at least. He was like this on the station, too. One non-atheist in this foxhole. "Get back everyone! We'll cover you!"

Damon has no luck trying to shoot accurately. He's barely decent at the shooting range, and that's against still targets, not moving hulking machines of death. As his shots go wide, he repositions to try and get better aim - and takes two, three, four shots total to the abdomen. He stumbles and drops to the floor with a gasp, one hand still clutching the rifle, the other one grasping his midsection. "M… mhit," he calls out.

This time, Cilusia's more careful aim seems to pay off. The bullet hits the toaster in the head. It looks like the round should stop the thing, but…it continues to whir-clank its way into the hangar deck, seemingly ignoring the fact that half its head is shredded pretty good. "FRAK ME!" she hissed, and, in the absence of much of a head to aim at, tries to put her next shot in the neck.

Another hit, another lack of damage, another quick glance around to see if anyone's been hurt - and there's Damon. "NO!" she yells, dropping all pretense of firing on robots to scramble across the bay to Damon. "S'okay, s'okay, s'okay," she murmurs, both to him and herself. "Yer gonna be jus' fine, darlin'. Stay wi' me, yeah? Jus' listen ta me, yer gonna be frakkin' fine 'ere, alrigh'?" The look on her face is telling another story. She's got barely any medtraining at all, just what they teach you in Ensign Academy, but she knows enough to apply pressure to the wounds. "I NEED 'ELP OVER 'ERE!" she yells out, as though anyone around here is just waiting around with a medkit to tend to those wounded and bloody.

Whatever god Brenner worships, he's certainly favored. They just keep coming. They just. Keep. Frakking. Coming. His target falls, and the other one firing at the canister by the cylon — it hisses, and explodes, in a smoky blaze, the shrapnel takes out the target, and right as that happens, the smoke starts to rise, obscuring the targets. It also has the side-effect of obscuring the Colonials here, too, providing a field of cover, should they decide to move as was suggested. Travelling the length to the spare hangar deck.

The other wounded marine takes a hit in the leg. "AWWRHFRAK!" He howls. "Move. MOVE MOVE MOVE. I'll cover you!"

Brenner snaps off, turning towards Sitka. "Let's get our people and move. Wills!" He addresses the wounded marine. "You did good, here. My God will remember." The wounded marine just grunts, waving off thanks. "Let's get a move on, people!"

Cappella moves to help the wounded marine, assuming the others will get the grease monkey. "GO GO GO" He waves the rest of the crewmen on, his eyes staying on the repair bay door, moving backwards as he runs.

There's smoke and fire in the area around the centurions. The automated fire systems start raining suppressive gas onto the immediate area of the blaze.

Sitka opens his mouth, then shuts it again, and hitches his pistol up over his shoulder, in the direction of the main hangar. "You heard the man," he grunts, bringing his weapon to bear once more and lobbing off another double-tap at an advancing Centurion. "Let's get to the hangar bay, bunker down at the chokepoint. I'm with you, Corporal," he calls over to Brenner, and jerks his head toward Temperance when he hears her voice from somewhere over to the left. Shit. Shit shit shit. "Kal- Kal, help her with him. I'll-" Cough, hack. "-cover you."

If Trask couldn't hit a toaster before, he's sure as frak not going to with all the smoke. With his free hand, he snags the first aid kit he took from the Raptor when he last disembarked. Heading for the Starboard Hangar, he calls out, "On it, Shiv." It's a bit tricky with the medkit in one hand and the pistol in the other, which is why he hands Temperance said medkit. "You're on point," he tells her, which means gun detail. Meanwhile, he'll be a prospective target as he shoulders Damon.

The deck. The poor, poor deck. This is going to take for-frakking-ever to clean up! Cilusia just shakes her head and looks to Kal and Temperance, hefting Damon up. "Come on, come on," she says, trying to hurry them as best she can, to whatever effect. Unhindered by medkit or wounded deckie, she keeps her pistol pointed to the smoke screen, and walks backwards with them toward the starboard hangar.

What Temperance isn't saying is written all over her face. Damon's injured, her hands are covered in his blood, and she's on /point/? Well. She wipes her trigger hand as best she can on her suit, smearing it with blood in the process. Taking aim at the figures through the smoke, she beats a retreat to the other hangar, covering Trask and bleeding Damon as she goes.

Damon doubles over in pain as Temperance applies pressure to his stomach. "F - frak!" he howls from the pain. More gunfire. Breathing heavily, he glances out for just a second to see the Centurion that shot him go down. There's a satisfied nod at that. As the others start coming for him, he just lets them do their thing, trying to help them as best he can in his state. And off he goes with Trask.

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