PHD #213: EVENT - Fly Away Home, Part 2
Fly Away Home, Part 2
Summary: The freighter is explored, and a lost bird comes home to roost.
Date: IC Date: 27 Sep 2041 AE (OOC Date: 29 Sep 2010)
Related Logs: Immediately follows Fly Away Home, Part 1. Also, all logs related to finding a civilian ship or expanding the hydroponics for the fleet, particularly, Hydroplanning.
Andrea Argento Leyla Lysander Marko Pallas Sofia 
West of Kinlochard Village, Northern Continent, Aerilon
Hey look, it's a big old derelict freighter!
Post-Holocaust Day: #213

Another routine day of, mostly, fruitless scouting, as the raptor crewed by Sweet Pea and Flasher headed out to the northern continent, in and around the area of Kinlochard Village. Steady streams of blank data transmitted back to the Cerberus seemed to indicate another day of wasted fuel and additional routine maintenance for the already overworked deck crew.

That is until the next to last transmission from Flasher sent a second raptor, complete with ground party complement scrambling. A Eunostos-class freighter, according to the acting Chief of the Deck, aboard the first raptor. With signs that the reactor was still hot and powered up.

While raptor one settled in a short distance from the freighter, sitting partially buried in the ground, awaiting it's sister ship to deliver her complement of marines and technical types, the second raptor makes it's way from the Cerberus, clearing atmosphere and homing in on the first raptor's coordinates. All seems well in hand, until the call comes from Skeeter, manning her ECO console, "Picking up another hull signature. Looks like the remains of a something medium large, maybe a troop transport of some sort."

"Skeeter, Flasher, can you relay me some co-ordinates?" Marko calls. "Sweet Pea, I'd like to do another round of active sweeps." he adds for Leyla's benefit. "Another ship, huh? Well, that'll get the Admiral's attention." he says, stretching as best he can in his seat.

What's a Viper pilot doing in a Raptor? Pallas doesn't usually volunteer himself for taskings, but there he is in the second Raptor, all up in his flightsuit. His bad luck for having come off CAP right when the Raptor started boarding and turned up one short of a full complement. Sometimes, a person just doesn't get the opportunity to say 'no'. Still, he doesn't look like he could care any less when the discovery of a ship is announced; his visage remains, as ever, the perfect mix of disinterested, bored, and impatient.

Flying by the ships shows the freighter in relative good shape, if a bit worse for the weather. The transport, on the other hand, looks as though it's crash didn't go nearly as well, with a great deal of soil and rock displaced by impact, with severe hull damage.

Leyla perks up, from her pilot's seat, looking back at Flasher as she hears the transmission from Skeeter and Classy's raptor. "Go ahead with the scans when you're ready." Which, really, means as soon as Flasher knows where to scan. But there's more than a little worry in the small pilot's expression. "Flasher, I'm looking at one one four carom two. Definitely a transport, Classy says, looks beat down to Hades and all. One of those real soft landings, you know."

"Copy that." Marko replies, training his own scanners towards the aforementioned co-ordinates and making ready to toggle the key. ", now, now! Interrogating…" he says, flicking on the Raptor's sensor gear long enough to get four sweeps on the target before shutting it down. "Okay, yep, definitely a transport, folks. Not exactly in the best of shape. I sure as hell wouldn't wanna ride in it." he comments as he peers over the data filling his screen.

Sofia is quietly in a Raptor. Pack a Snipe(TM). She looks thoughtful, wide green eyes peering out. There's considerable ponderance. She quirks her brows, "That's the one they are looking at?" She wonders. If it's not safe to ride in… hm.

Argento is quietly seated in the back of the raptor, flipping through some old technical manuals on electronic systems of civilian freighters, and half listening to the ship to ship chatter.

The good Sergeant Lysander rubs his chin. He should shave one of these days. There's a thoughtful sound coming up from the depths of his chest. He then sits forward from the position he's currently at, within the second Raptor of course, and looks to the others nearby. The man strokes a gloved hand over his chest and then moves to stand. "All right, folks, listen up," he reaches upwards to hold generally at a place with the bulkhead of the bus. "We're going to be the first ones in there, an' since I suck at these here speeches, you're all just going to have to frakkin' follow protocol on this one. Don't get lost, don't be stupid. It's a large ship so consider this your standard search an' rescue." He tosses a glance over his shoulder in the general direction of the cockpit: "We'll get to the second blighter when we can."

One would hope that the downed transport is NOT the ship we're looking for. Even in the best of conditions, the transport might have been able to carry 50 people. And now…well, if it ever left the ground, people would be falling out like water through a sieve. But no, as raptor two comes in, the main prize comes into view. The freighter seems quite a few decades old, at the inside track, vegetation, dirt and detritus gathered all around it's lower deck, as if it had settled here long enough for the world to begin to grow up around it. The only area that seems clear, mostly, of the debris of seven months post cylon attack, are the main hatch doors, around which a small area was long ago scoured and cleared of anything but hard gravel.

"Once raptor two's detail is boots to ground, let's see if we can't do a fly-over, maybe get a little closer look at it." The transport that is, comes Leyla's comment to Flasher, "See if there's anything worthwhile, before we head back to finish up here." Only logical, right? Leave no stone unturned.

It doesn't take Classy long to get the raptor down, and soon enough, he's cycling down the hatch, "All ashore who's going ashore."

The first thing that is evident as the boots hit the dirt is that not all is naturally weathered. A path has been worn from the freighter to the transport, and there are several spaces of dug earth that are clearly far newer than the crashes themselves.

"Sweet Pea, Skeeter says Lysander's requesting we hold off on exploring the transport until we've cleared the freighter." Marko calls. "Anything to get out of this damn chair." he comments. "My legs aren't asleep, they're frakking comatose."

Sofia peers at the Sergeant. Perhaps his soon to be beard grants him strange powers. She nods slowly. Ground! Yay! And a non-spaghetti sieve ship. Always a bonus. Sofia never really understood the ones with screen doors. Though, she seems amazed at how nature weaves her magic over even mankind's once mighty ships. Oh well. Sofia nods, listening quietly. The pilots do their thing, and Sofia follows along. She pauses. Dug? "Hey… digging?" Boggles. "Can't be space traveling badgers." A chintap.

Pallas gives Lysander a bland look as he gives his little spiel. "Asking a lot of this bunch," he mutters to himself. His sidearm comes up, gets quickly checked, and comes down to his side, staying in his hand. He lets the others clear out first, bringing up the rear. Or at least, putting himself as far back in the formation as he can. He's not here to be a frakking her.

Argento throws his things into his backpack, and is out of the hatch behind the others. Fresh air. He stays with the group, but starts walking in the direction of the downed freighter. Huge thing. Going to take awhile to search the whole ship.

"Sergeant's orders then," seeing as how with Lysander down, he's the ranking NCO amongst the marines. "Let's get the ship offloaded and buttoned up and go see what we can find. Classy and Skeeter only just got here. They can babysit while we go have a looksee." That said, Leyla relays such back to Classy, and as she's the ranking flight officer amongst the raptor detail (fear her), she gets to make the call. "Come on, Flasher, let's go hunting."

In hindsight, Lysander most likely shouldn't have called the downed ship a blighter of all things but he doesn't bother correcting himself and instead tilts his chin upwards to the responses given unto him. "Could be worse, but we'll make do," he leaves it at that for now and waits for the Raptor to hit dirt. Once there, he clears out the Raptor and its contingent of personnel. He shoulders his rifle and moves to be at the forefront compared to the rest of the marines and others. "I hate ships."

"Amen to that." Marko replies, unstrapping and levering himself out of his seat. "Ooh….man…" the young ECO grunts, doing a few knee bends to try to kick start the circulation in his legs. "If the Cylons didn't get the person who designed that chair, I just might." he grumbles as he punches the release on the hatch.

As for the freighter, it just sits, quiet and still, a looming presence on the ground. What little can be seen through the ports isn't so promising. Dark and shadowy, with some illumination so soft as to be merely a reflection of the light coming in from the other windows. The main hatch sits closed, though it appears cleaner than the rest of the hull, at least to about the level of your standard issue human.

Sofia is full of MSG and weasels, whatever ate her would only be hungry again. She peers at Lysander. "Why's that?" Sofia seems to be content to linger near the middle, heavy losses in Engineering having taught her that unlike a Marine - Engineer might go SPLAT. She smiles at Argento. "Which way are you going to go?"

Lysander whistles dryly under his breath as he comes to stand before the main hatch. At least he doesn't need to continue listening to the idle crunch of his boots upon the ground. He takes a step back and then signals for two other marines of his squad to move forward and metaphorical crack the lid to this large sardine can. The Sergeant calls out over his shoulder in reply, "Man built them instead of nature." The seal up ahead is broken and he pays his attention back forward.

Argento walks up next to Sofia, smiles back. "I was thinking of looking for the operations hub, or maybe the engineering deck, see if it's possible to get this thing back online at all. But you're the engineer, Sofia. What do you think? Maybe we can work together today." When they approach the hatch, Argento stays back while the marines clear the entrance.

Leyla steps out of Bertha, moving out onto the winglet of the raptor, sidearm drawn, as she surveys, before she peeks back to check on Flasher. The rest of the recon team has already moved forward, advancing to join Lysander's bunch, though some of the marines do break away to set up a safe perimeter around the freighter. A grunt's work is never done.

Marko draws his sidearm and moves to back Leyla up, careful to keep her out of his line of fire. It's clear from his expression, he really doesn't want a replay of what happened on Sagittaron.

Inside is a mess, but oddly enough it seems to be an organized mess, not something you would expect from a crash the hasty exodus of survivors. A string of lights, not currently lit, has been hung in the main hallway, with the wire leading deeper into the ship. The various piles are actually organized, various stripped pieces and parts piled according to their purpose and serviceability. There is a vague smell of smoke in the air, as well.

Sofia nods, "Sure if you like." She doesn't seem to mind, shrugging a little. "I'd check there, maybe the Marines would want to see the weapons stores if there's any," She admits. Sofia wrinkles her nose at the smell, as she looks around. She'll check the wiring as she walks along.

There's not much semblance of protocol or discipline as Pallas follows along with the group. He's looking around, but only glancing from place to place, not scanning thoroughly. His sidearm hangs limp at his side, tapping against his leg. There's really not much more he could do to give the impression of not caring besides setting out a lawn chair and lounging. For what it's worth, though, he's staying with the group.

Argento steps onto the freighter behind Sofia. Walking down the main corridor, he's following the faint burning smell. "I think there's someone here," he says. "You smell that? That's wood burning."

As the teams begin to move out from the hatch, it begins to become clear that this freighter didn't just happen upon a hill on Aerilon and decide to plunk itself down. It's clearly been in service for quite a few years. But not to the sort of service it was originally intended, perhaps. The first thing that sticks out, is the smell, not in anyway masked by the burning odor, of vegetation, both new and gone to see, as the bays and areas of the ship come into better view. The remnants of hydroponics bays gone far into seed pop up here and there, the smell of dry rot from others, in the manner of stored grains long left to go sour.

"Sergeant Lysander, Flasher. What's the story?" Marko calls over the radio. "Haven't heard any shooting." he points out to Leyla. "That's usually a good sign."

"Yes, until the jungles closes in around us and strangles us while we cry uselessly." If there's one thing Leyla Aydin does not have much experience with, it's being in places full of such overripe fecundity as the freighter. To a woman used to cityscapes and blighted greenery, this is just not her happy place. "I saw a movie like that once. Living man-eating plants."

"Charlie Two-Two, this is Two-One Actual, call in by every five with that perimeter, over," it's Lysander's final command before entering into the ship and through the hatch, listening to a squawk from his radio and then the response from Two-Two's team leader. He pauses near to the entrance in order to filter out basic commands. Everyone gets a pair of marines to better assist them; even better if they all stay in some semblance of a group. The Sergeant turns around and looks under the stale din of light filtering in from the hatch to the wake of the others. Lights. He looks for lights as he slowly follows after everyone. His left hand comes up from his rifle and he leans to the side, radioing in return, "Smells an' looks like a crapfrak farmhouse in here, Flasher, but so far so good."

Lysander makes another huh under his breath and reaches to the side with a hand, having found the switch he has been looking forward: presumably, at least. He glances upwards and then behind him. It's flicked in a testing sort of patience and after a moment of eyeing it over.

Sofia seems interested in the wires and things like that. She posses and sniffs. "Oh… wow, hey yeah," Wood burning. "Wait. Isn't burning bad?" Sofia's eyebrows lift. "Ooo, living man eating plants." She makes a wiggle and chomp with her fingers. She's more used to the pleasant tourist traps of Aquaria. She hms. "Things seem kinda worn and let go - but I don't think that the wires would burst into flames. "Which way should we go?"

When the switch is flipped, the ship seems to come to a sort of fitful life, though it may be nothing more than shadows and phantoms across the vision of the people moving into the freighter. Whatever power the ship's reactor is putting out isn't steady, if the lights, the ones built into the ship itself, and not the sets that seem to be strung around as a sort of after market upgrade, are anything to go by, flickering as they, creating a sort of sickly strobe effect, now you see things, now you don't. And with the lights on, the sheer scope of the overgrowth might be breathtaking. Or perhaps should be, because it does not smell good at all. The smell of ripe sweet fruits mixed in with the scent of all that decay.

"Toward the smell of smoke," Pallas replies to Sofia. From the tone of his voice, the 'you idiot' is implied at the end of his sentence; he doesn't even bother to look her way when answering. When the lights flicker on, he pauses. Annoyed eyes glance up and around the ceiling, his lips curling in a sort of sneer. "Good, I always wanted to go to a rave in a broken-down ship that reeks of shit and fire," he grumbles. "Let's frakking get this over with."

"Burning isn't necessarily bad," Argento replies to Sofia. "If it were wires burning that could be bad. But you agree it smells like wood, right? Could be survivors." He taps the string of lights as they continue walking. "And someone went to the trouble of putting all these lights up. Like they gave up on getting the main power back up, but planned on living here for a while. Yeah. Let's try to find where the smoke is coming from."

"Copy that, Sarge." Marko replies, "Any sign of habitation?" he asks curiously, then, unnecessarily adds. "Be careful, okay?" To Leyla he chuckles softly and bobs his head. "Yeah, yeah, The Relic. Good movie. Book was _way_ creepier, though." he adds. "Reading that guy's stuff is like getting dragged against your will towards a great big door marked 'DOOM'." he chuckles.

Following the smoke deeper into the ship, signs of recent habitation become clearer. Moss is cleared away, and various panels and maintenance boards show signs of regular use. The strung lights did not come on when the main switch was flipped, and the flickering main lights are making it hard to see much of anything.

A dirty look is shot Pallas' way. It's rare to see Sofia genuinely annoyed or angry. "Who would invite you to a party?" Like, ever? She seems baffled. Pallas at a party. Whatever. She just grunts and looks towards Argento. "Yeah." She just goes with that. For now, she trundles along, squinting. "I don't see anything yet though - some of the moss seems cleared." Or the moss is lazy?

Lysander looks up to the eerie strobe effect and then back to the switch. He decides to leave it on for the time being and turns to his barrel-mounted flashlight in order to guide his way back towards the others. "Yeah, somethin' like that, Flasher. Don't look like we should've knocked though, yet, over," is radioed back with a wry tone of voice as he turns to join back up with the group.

The smell of the fire, not old and dusty, but new and almost cheerful, almost the sort of smell one might expect in fall, in Aerilon, seems to deepen as the crew moves away from the forward sections of the ship, an olfactory trail leading them further and further into the belly of the beast.

Argento stops as they pass a spot along the wall where maintenance boards and panels have been opened up and look to have been recently accessed. "Sofia, hold up," he calls after her. He messes with the controls for a while, and asks, "Do you know how to work this? Oh. There we go." He pulls up a display, and reads out, "The engines are definitely dead. But here's a ship's directory. We're here right now. We can get to the engine room if we head this way." He traces the map display with his fingers.

Follow the smoke. That seems to be the only thought in Pallas' mind as he forges on. Security or defensive position doesn't appear to be high-priority for the pilot; it could be that he's just not used to ground operations. Or it could very well be that he just doesn't care. He ends up near the front of the group, picking up the pace a little bit, pushing them to move faster to keep up with him. Further into the belly of the beast they go, the smell getting stronger and stronger as they move deeper inward. "It's not a frakking party until I show up," he informs Sofia.

"Just as long as I'm not on the other side when the door goes boom, I'll be happy." But the smell, the overgrown vegetation, the crunch of desiccated husks of grain now under her feet seem to have the pilot on edge. And she stops. Full stop. "Flasher, look." Leyla may not know plants, but she knows when a plant's been picked. A hand reached up, pulling down the branch of what was once a very small citrus tree, the fruit shriveled and likely sour enough to curdle milk, "Harvested."

"Sure, if you mean like a sock party or one of those parties where they flog you for your sins or something," Sofia replies to Pallas. She pauses and looks to Argento, "Do you think we could at least get power going? I think the others are going for the smoke to see what's up with that first," She considers, but she is watching Argent and the display. "Though I would like to see those engines if we want to keep this one I guess…"

After a look at the directory, the smoke actually seems to be coming from the direction of the Engine room. A reassuring thought, yes?

"Copy that, Sarge." Marko says, setting his jaw a little. "Be advised, I think Sweet Pea's got some signs out here as well. I'll tell you more when I know more." he adds. "Son of a bitch." Marko breathes, examining the tree as well. "Yep…that's definitely harvested. But how long ago?" he asks. "You think one of the Marines might could tell?"

Nothing outwardly abnormal to report from the perimeter is given to the Sergeant and Lysander nods to himself as finally someone familiar appears up ahead. The beam of his light is lowered somewhat and then turned to the side at what he thought was someone standing. He pauses in step and inclines his head to the side, squinting. The lights overhead clamp off and then brightly return, revealing nothing beyond vegetation-covered bulkhead. He exhales with a low sigh before turning back forward and stepping to join the others. The man signals for one fire-team to stick with Sofia and Tony while he and the others move onwards in supporting Pallas' venture. "Copy that, Flasher."

"Well, at least we can rest assured that whatever's in here doesn't have scurvy. And is probably bitter as hades about it. I know I would be if I had to eat that." Leyla lets the limb fall back, the leaves rustling fitfully, before she continues on, the two groups, despite their seeming divergence still heading towards the rear end of the ship. No matter which way they go, engine room or main power, they'll meet up again.

Argento shrugs as he continues to study the computer displays. "I wouldn't know if we could get the power back up until we get to the engine room. It looks like the main power controls are also in the engine room, so I would like to check that out." He watches most of the group walk on ahead of them, and then looks over at Sofia with a smile. "It looks like they're headed in that general direction, anyway. Come on, let's go."

Sofia gets the last word in that little exchange; Pallas clams up again as he keeps going despite some people stopping near the open maintenance panels. Now in the lead of his little group, he stops abruptly and motions to the Marine standing directly behind him. "You go ahead up front," he tells the rifleman. "I'm not the one who gets paid to take bullets." Yeah, it's clear to see that he's a popular guy at parties.

Right in front of the Engine room is the source of the smoke… a small fire, mostly out, which seems to have been used for cooking. Several hand-drawn schematics of the freighter are scattered around, and there is a small bowl half full of a particularly foul smelling fruit-stew.

And opposite the fire, up against the wall, for those keen of eye, can be spotted a small, aged ham radio setup.

With most of Lysander's marines moving out to explore the outlying rooms of the freighter, the main group is free to continue on towards their eventual destination. The smell of smoke is thick now, as is the air, when once can pierce it, whether with the lights flickering above or with the flashlights most of the party has been equipped with. Another door bars the way, or would, if it had not been jammed open, with a piece of rebar to keep it open. And inside, the source of the smoke is visible.

Sofia listens, and nods. "We'll see when we get there." She smiles. Sofia clams up too, not bothering to egg Pallas on. There's work at hand! "Oh, I dunno. The bullets would see you, stop and turn screaming. You're /invincible/, like one of those comic super heroes. I can see it now, Pallas-cules, destroyer of his foes with the power of WANKERY! And periodically sharp wit," She spreads her hands dramatically then winces at the new smells. "Oooh… that's unpleasant." Sofia blinks. "Hey… fire." And … a small aged, ham radio?

Marko picks up one of the fruits and gives it an experimental sniff. "Wow…" he says, wrinkling his nose. "Some kinda citrus." he says, holstering his sidearm and going for his survival knife to scrape a chunk of the hard rind off. "If I start foaming at the mouth, shoot me." he grins to Sweet Pea before taking a small bite. "OOOOOH! Aphrodite's cunny!" he says, chewing it thoughtfully as his face seems to scrunch up like a cartoon character eating raw alum. "Godsdamn, that is bitter." he adds, spitting it out and taking a swig from his canteen to wash his mouth out. "It's edible, though. Dunno how hungry you'd have to be to want to eat it, but you could."

"Well, you'll be happy to know that I had my sidearm switched out, so hopefully it won't jam, before I have to shoot you as you try to eat my face." Sweet Pea and Flasher, the Harrier's gift to comedy. Or not. "I can't believe you just did that," comes the pilot's answer to her ECO's sampling of the finery of the freighter's cuisine. "And you call me the frakin insane one."

Stop. Up comes Pallas' pistol. To his credit, he has some semblance of barrel discipline - as he looks around, the end of the firearm is pointed down at the ground whenever its aim crosses someone's back. Sofia's jibes are ignored completely as he narrows his eyes, really looking and listening for the first time since this mission began. "Come out, come out, wherever you are…" he calls out in a singsong voice.

Lysander tries to pay less attention to what he thinks are people and to what his senses tell him right then and there. "Stop talking," is muttered dryly and signals for the other marines to form up with him, making sure the others aren't placed in harm's way. He aims his rifle forward and then enters into the engine room first, looking down at the pit and fire before angling his attention elsewhere. He looks from one point of interest to the next. In the moment of lowering his rifle and having the others follow him in, he pivots in place and looks deeper into the room. The radio is ignored. The rifle is lifted back up and aimed: stupid engine room. "Whoever the frak is there better identify their self." Then again, it could be a mutant rat or something."

Argento stops where everyone seems to have gathered around the dying fire, though he does take note of the entrance to the engine room. He chuckles as Marko tastes the fruit. "Sir, how could you put that in your—" he hushes when Lysander tells everyone to stop talking. He pats his own sidearm subconsciously, without drawing it.

A small voice drifts out of the darkness. "Lords of Kobol, hear my prayer, I hope, I hope, I hope…" It then comes again, louder. "Ok, hang on, I am coming out…" A figure emerges slowly, holding a pistol though it isn't pointing at anyone. Yet.

Mercifully, Sofia is good about going quiet. She grunts softly. She peers this way and that. She winces at Marko's reaction to the fruit. Ewww. She shakes it off though. Then a blink. A voice? Well, it's not in her head at least. She is a quiet audience.

"Heh, you are the frakkin' insane one." Marko counters, chucking the fruit away as if it were a live grenade. "I was just being a good ECO, you know, curious and all." he shrugs, taking another swig from his canteen and swirling the water around his mouth before spitting it out. "Knew it wasn't poisonous, or why would anybody be harvesting it, ya know?"

It takes a second for Pallas to process the image of the woman in front of him. She's ragged and dirty, but there's something familiar. Something… familiar. The flash of recognition is visible on his face - he frowns in confusion, blinks in surprise, and snaps up his pistol at Andrea all in the same split second. His finger rides the trigger, ready to pump her full of rounds with a mere twitch. "Lose the pistol," he snaps. "Now."

Leyla is close enough to the front of the group to hear Lysander's command, and manages to mostly stifle her ECO with a small hand over his big fat mouth. Or maybe it's his little shriveled mouth, since he did have that fruit. "To waha," comes the soft, barely audible taurian from his pilot. She's still got her sidearm in the other, almost all of her attention now focused on the woman's voice rifting out from the engine room.

Andrea's eyes widen as she locks on the voice that gives the order. "Spiral?" she asks, clearly not believing herself? The pistol falls from limp fingers. "Spiral, is that… it's me, Spiral. Hosedown. The Volens. Remember me? My gods, have the Cylons been beaten?"

The Sergeant is no longer on Sagittaron. He doesn't have to deal with ghosts of his past, just yet. Then again, in spotting the firearm held by the approaching figure, the hold over his rifle is reflexively tightened. The order regarding the sidearm is given and then… and then he blinks. He lowers the barrel of his rifle while inclining his head in the direction of Pallas: "What the frak?" The surprise is there, enough to make Lysander forget about protocol and the like.

Distrusting eyes scan Andrea's face as she drops the pistol and addresses Pallas - or Spiral, as he's known by his callsign. His weapon doesn't lower, though it does visibly tremble for just a moment. The silence hangs heavy in the air for a beat before he speaks. "Stay back," he warns her, even though she's made no move to come forward. "Make a move, and I'll empty this clip into you." Such a sweet reunion. His eyes flicker to Lysander, then back to Andrea. "This is the image of a woman I knew from Battlestar Volans," he informs the Sergeant. And it's clear from his choice of words and tone that he doesn't trust her.

'Mmmh mmh MMMHF?" Marko says, voice muted by Leyla's hand as the woman appears in what's left of her Fleet Officer's uniform. Grunting with mild irritation, Marko moves his pilot's hand aside. "Colonial Fleet?" he asks, letting his hand fall in the general direction of his sidearm, but not touching the butt of the gun….yet.

Wut. Sofia looks confused and looks to Argento. Then to Pallas. Then to Andrea. She scratches the side of her head.

Andrea's hands start raising, looking stricken at his tone of voice. "Lt. 1st grade Andrea Demarcos. Callsign "Hosedown." Given to me on the Battlestar Volans by Lt. Pallas "Spiral" Ellinon. When I first met you, Spiral, I was promptly covered in fire-extinguishing foam by an excited knuckledragger. We kissed once, and it cost me two weeks of laundry."

Frick only shoots Frack a look, before turning to study the woman, who seems for all intents and purposes to be indeed Colonial Fleet. "You ever served on the Volans, Flasher?" Leyla's voice is quiet, barely enough to carry beyond herself and Marko. And she's staying way back from the tense group ahead. She's still slightly ahead of the man, though, putting herself between him and whatever might come. Front seat before back seat, skids up or boots down.

Argento looks back at Sofia, but is mostly expressionless as all this is going on between Spiral and "Hosedown." His hand has moved away from his sidearm, with all the armed people in control of the situation. He's listening to this Hosedown trying to convince Spiral that she is who she is. It sounds pretty convincing, but until Spiral says he believes her, the tension in the room could slice cheese.

"Cerberus was my first active duty station." Marko replies, equally quietly, shrugging a little. "So how'd you wind up here?" he asks a little louder so Andrea can hear.

Lysander keeps his gaze focused on Andrea while he listens to Pallas in turn, slowly nodding. It's easy to understand what the man means and he turns away from the bloke in order to take a step closer towards the woman-survivor. "Stop talking," is promptly ordered, this time of the woman and not of the Cerberus personnel behind him. He then directs a Private to recover the downed pistol, because he's not going anywhere near just yet. "Lieutenant, that gun, it's okay," he holds up a hand in gesturing for Pallas to lower his sidearm. The marines have larger-caliber weapons to potentially pump someone full of hot lead if the need arises. The Private moves in closer, slowly. Right hand still with his rifle, he reaches to the rear of his waistline with his left.

Andrea opens her mouth to answer Marko's question until the order comes from the Marine. Her eyes follow his hand as her hands stay above her head, her eyes pleading with Pallas.

For her part? Sofia is obediently quiet, looking to Pallas. There is /some/ sympathy for Andrea at least.

"We know you Cylons have infiltrated the Fleet," Pallas says, his voice low and threatening. "We've identified and executed members of our own ship who were Cylons." Maybe executed is a bit of a stretch, but he doesn't bat an eyelash. As Hosedown's pistol is recovered and Lysander gives him the OK, Spiral's sidearm is slowly lowered but not put away. It remains pointed in the vicinity of Andrea's feet. Her pleading look is met with an unwavering blank stare. "Too frakking convenient for my liking, running into a sole 'survivor' here beside the first intact ship we've found," he says. It's just Andrea's luck that she's discovered by possibly the most paranoid and untrusting person on the Cerberus. "As you will," he says to the Sergeant.

"Eh, I think we should all just calm down a little." Marko calls, holding his hand up a little and stepping forward. "Sarge, she's unarmed, and your men have her covered." he says reasonably. "I think it's time for our survivor to tell her story. I'm ten kind of curious." he adds, his tone deliberately neutral.

Leyla nods, "I knew that." And she did, but this place clearly has her all out of whack. Still, things seem to be getting under control, mostly, as the Sergeant moves his men into the engine room, and hopefully, to secure the woman. But if Marko is moving forward, then so is she. She's not going to let him get away from her. Not with Spiral looking like he might go postal at any moment.

One shan't ever leave home without a proper set of binders. Lysander has probably commented upon such once upon a time; it keeps the proverbial defecation from hitting the oscillation. With the pleading look being shot the frak down, the marine steps up with the aforementioned binders and a sidelong glance to the private next to him. He partially pivots, at first to place himself in a better position to cuff Andrea, but in the end he's turning his eyes off toward Marco. "And I'm not risking my men because you're curious, sir," a soft tone of disdain is there, but his heart is in the right place. "You don't see me clampin' her mouth shut - hands, please," he switches back to his original goal of properly securing and restraining Andrea.

Andrea closes her eyes, but then lowers her hands behind her back. "I was given a week of R+R after being transferred off of the Volans. I came home… here. I was being shipped back to duty on the Perseus when the bombs fell. I was on the transport outside… both pilots blinded and the controls knocked out, did best I could to land it. You can see the result. I stayed on the farm that can be found seventy klicks east by southeast of here, my family farm. You can go see… family pictures and everything. I stayed in the bomb shelter under the barn. When food ran out, I came back to see if I could repair this ship… stripped the transport for parts, buried those who died in the crash…" her eyes lock on Pallas. "You killed… people? But… infiltrators? A frakking toaster got past you?"

Pallas listens to Andrea's story without a flicker of emotion on his face. How come he's not the one suspected of being a toaster, when he has absolutely zero sympathy for a destitute woman who might have served with him in the past as she gets apprehended and bound? "That's right," he says, his voice still barely above a menacing whisper. "We killed them. I won't hesitate to kill the enemy." But at some level, he must have at least a little bit of doubt that she's not a Cylon since he didn't just shoot her out of hand. He stays long enough to see her taken into custody, then holsters his firearm and stalks away. Nice to see you again too, Hosedown.

"Eh, we've had our issues." Marko replies, nodding a little and shooting Lysander a look that could be put into an encyclopedia, if there was one that had an entry for 'Duh, ya think?' "So you've been here the whole time since then?" he asks calmly. "Tried some of your fruit, by the way." he smiles. "Not exactly the tastiest thing, but it would keep body and soul together."

"I'm going to head back, radio in we've got a survivor. See about getting another crew in here to finish up the eval of this place." Since most, she would imagine, of the contingent with Lysander will now be heading back to base to drop off their package. She could of course, have Skeeter and Classy do it, but this was her mission to run lead, she'll take whatever fallout comes. But for better or worse, "Welcome home, Hosedown." A glance to Marko, to see if he plans to join her.

The Sergeant looks to the marines in his immediate vicinity and then down to the bound hands set before him, listening to everyone talk and be merry. He doesn't bother detailing anything himself and as Pallas begins to walk off he reaches up and goes to place a hand at Andrea's shoulder and direct her forward. This way he can keep quiet and do his sworn duty all in one go.

Andrea nods. "No point in going back, the last of the skytalkers went dark." She looks around and the marines, sighs, and then allows herself to be led. "First physical contact I've had in… more than two hundred days." She gets a good look at Lysander's face. "Nice."

Whatever the two teams might have thought they would find, coming into this old freighter in the hopes of finding it salvageable, they certainly did not or could not have anticipated the discovery of a survivor. But a survivor there was. And so it is that the original mission finds itself thrown out the window, as a secondary crew comes in to complete the survey and vet the ship as repairable (it is) while the original detail, most of them, shepherd the lost sheep back to the flock. It's raptor one that trades off crews with raptor two, as Sweet Pea and Flasher transport the Sergeant and his newest charge back to Ewe Aerilon.

Andrea surveys basecamp as the Raptor is on approach. Cautiously, she looks at the marine and asks; "Could you please ask the other team to bring the bag they'll find in the engine room, when they have a chance? In all the rush…" she stumbles. "It's just a few things from home, but they're all I have…"

"I hate this." Marko tells Leyla quietly. cutting his eyes to the survivor, now bound and lead by armed, nervous marines. "Look, I dunno if she's a Cylon or not, but something tells me we're doing this all wrong." he sighs, kicking at a convenient rock. "If she isn't, we'll be forever getting her to trust us, and if she is, we'll be forever getting anything useful out of her."

Lysander and the rest of his squad get to have a lovely travel back, eventually, in stages, to Ewe Aerilon and if they are lucky they will get to fork over paperwork in the Sergeant's direction and end up off-duty earlier than expected. Garret Lysander himself reaches upwards and removes his helmet in order to set it on his right knee, temporarily so, with a sidelong glance in the would-be prisoner's direction. He lifts an eyebrow curiously and then offers what could pass as a smile. He mimes her, "Bag from the engine room?" There's a small pause and he adds, "Can do. I'll make sure of it." As potentially merciful as he is, he still keeps her bound.

"Thank you." Andrea says quietly. She then looks at the marine again. "I take it this isn't the glorious liberation of Aerilon, then."

Leyla looks back, at the Marines leading the 'prisoner' off of the raptor's winglet. "This is just what they did to Shortcut, when they found him on Sagittaron. Kept him under guard for days until they vetted him. If she isn't, she'll soon understand why we have to do this, if she doesn't already. If she is, it's going to be nearly impossible to get anything out of her she doesn't want to give anyway." Leyla is close enough, to catch part of Andrea's comment, as she passes, "There is no Aerilon anymore. Not like it was. There is no anything anymore, like it was. There was a war, for a few impossibly short hours, days, there was a war. And we lost."

"Yeah, I know, but still…." Marko sighs, shaking his head sadly. "Seems a bad way to make a first impression, ya know?" he shrugs, finding another rock to kick, sending it arcing to land, scrabbling against the dirt. "Call me a big wussy, but I don't like it. Necessary or not….."

Sholty and the rest of Lysander's fire-team toddle out of the bus first which leaves Lysander to handle Andrea himself, and he watches them quicken their pacing in order to bring better attention of the incoming survivor. The constant radioing back and forth isn't good enough. The Sergeant gives a glance over his shoulder and flatly smiles at nothing in particular. He continues to guide the woman along. The smile softens into a wry, half-smirk, "Anything else you'd like to know?"

Andrea is still taking in the surroundings, but her look is sad. "I thought so. It all made sense. I kept telling the Skytalkers rescue would be here soon, but…" she sighs. "I was lying. Or, at least, I thought I was. So what is left?"

"Wussy." But that comes just before a shake of her head, "I know it seems harsh, Marko, but this is as much for her protection as ours. If she is one of ours, we don't need someone hauling off and shooting her." Like they did Coll. "We've lost enough people. if she's one of ours, this is how we keep her safe. We let her loose into the gen pop, well. You saw how Spiral reacted to her, and he supposedly knows her."

"Yeah…" Marko replies, kicking another rock. "Just because you're paranoid, don't mean they're not after you', as the man once said." He grumbles. "Just hope she's the real thing. We've got enough troubles as is."

Lysander leans back as he continues to walk forward, giving a short look to the Raptor folk but not bothering to do much than that. They have their conversation. He has his own. "We're what's left," he's bluntly honest about it and offers a small, dipping nod of his head. He casts his gaze downwards to the ground as each step he takes it disappears beneath his boots. After that admittance, he looks to Andrea. "These are some fraktastic days, but we're to rise to the challenge. Survive, thrive, all of that - you'll see."

"Fair enough, I suppose." Andrea resigns herself to whatever she sees next. But speaking of that… "So what happens to me now? How exactly am I supposed to prove to you that I am not made of chrome?"

Leyla shakes her head, allowing the marines with their charge to wander ahead of where she's still standing with Marko, "Paranoia can sometimes be the only thing that keeps you alive. Of course, it can drive you crazy to boot," hello Spiral (!), "But I think as far as troubles go, she's going to end up being the least of our problems." Such is the reality of life after the cylon holocaust.

"More than likely." Marko sighs. "More than likely. So, are we going back now?" Marko yawns, stretching again.

"Wouldn' know," the Sergeant is fairly honest once again and since he's on a streak with such he clears his throat against the possibilities flooding to the forefront of his mind. As confident and stoic as he could ever be, he's still unsure. With that uncertainty of his in tow he leads her onward and through the farmstead until Andrea is safely secure in place for someone far more qualified to deal with her arrives. It won't take long at all. In parting, the marine rubs the back of his neck with a hand and offers: "Garret, Lysander," it's an introduction. "I'll be sure to get your things to you." He briefly grins before moving off to other areas of Ewe Aerilon.

Andrea nods, and smiles. "Thank you, Sergeant. I know you're just doing your job. Andrea Demarcos. Andi, if you like." She settles in… no point in being uncomfortable, and at the very least, whatever food product is coming will not be that horrific fruit stew…

"We always go back, Flasher." Leyla shifts, her weight settling her back in the direction of her raptor, "How else do they make the rain on the colonies, if we're not flying around?" Sad but true, the little black cloud of precipitation that seems to hang over their raptor. "Besides, you know you want to take some of the fruit home for your garden."

"Frak no, Sweet Pea!" Marko replies instantly. "My fiancee's probably gonna kill me, but I don't even wanna get seeds for that Godsforsaken fruit!" he laughs. "I swear I'll be tasting that for the next six months…"

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