| Lambs to the Slaughter |
| Summary: | As Marines struggle to breach the blast doors leading into CFAS Anadyomene, the Cylons strike with overwhelming force. |
| Date: | 8 May 2041 AE |
| Related Logs: | Continued from Get Some. Concurrent with the events in The Promise of Science. Continued in 99999 and concluded in How Sweet, Vengeance. |
| Players: |
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| Colonial Fleet Air Station Anadyomene — Leonis |
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| The silence here is deafening, for not even the winds dare to disturb what remains of Colonial Fleet Air Station Anadyomene. Its three runways are littered by the wreckage of Vipers and Raptors, their grotesquely melted frames maintaining a sick parody of their original shape. Blasted barracks stand in eerie tribute to the people who died here, their windows completely shattered, their doors completely wrecked. Poured concrete runways are black and rippled, having been liquefied and reshaped by the heat from the Cylons' neutron bombs. They're dotted here and there by the still-feathered skeletons of over a thousand dead birds: the first victims of the radiation that still hangs like an invisible mist over the mountainous ridge into which this base has been built. |
| It's fortunate, then, that the reinforced concrete blast doors leading into that ridge still stand, though the northern passage has been rendered completely inaccessible by virtue of the fact that its doorframes are now one with the taxiway leading inside. The southern entrance looks to have handled the destruction better, though it'll still take some effort (and more than a few explosives) to pry them open. |
| Post-Holocaust Day: #71 |
Even before the dust completely settles, awkwardly-armored pilots file out behind their Marine counterparts, rifles in hand. The Eidolon's volunteer deck gang follows hard on their heels, their chests bristling not with bandoliers but with those portable spanners and sundry other devices that allow them to get broken birds up in the air with naught but a wrench and a prayer. Oberlin, for all his difficulties during the landing, has — accidentally or otherwise — placed the starboard cargo pod within fifty meters of the southern passage.
This might qualify as a hole in one.
As equipment is prepped, terra firma is kissed, and nerves are regained, a pair of Raptors fly off at last, emerging from the cavernous hole torn into Eidolon's makeshift 'hangar' before waggling their stubby wings once, twice, thrice. It doesn't take them terribly long before they're off to the races, skimming the treetops as they cut through the forest surrounding the base. A third Raptor takes a little longer to power up, but when it does, it'll undoubtedly hearten those who see it: it's bristling with missiles, a minigun, and all those other deliciously explosive things that make gunships so valuable to folks engaged in ground assault. Over the heads of the assembled soldier she flies, moving to a clear bit of runway before shutting down her engine and powering down her systems. It wouldn't do to be detected — not now, and certainly not here.
Michelle makes her way down the ramp, still tightening the strap on her helmet. She runs the action on her rifle and stops at the bottom of the ramp. MacArthur, she is not. The woman takes her time to look around at the base and recover from seeing the place look like this. Might even be some recognition in those eyes. After a few long moments, though, she shoulders the rifle and looks to the pilots. "You zipper suited sun gods - take up a permiter and watch for movement. Signal if you see anything. Marines!" She points to the door. "Our objective seems to have a problem with a stuck door. Get the sunuvabitch open."
Daphne's neck bends upwards upon disembark and looks all the way around. She swallows, chokes back something that looks rotten if her face is any indication, and peers back at Tisiphone, and then to the other pilots. Fingers clutch awkwardly at her rifle as though it were a creation made entirely out of ice, uncomfortable and heavy. Mutters she, "Well… here goes." and then turns to her immediate superiors, as if to wordlessly ask for direction.
Tisiphone, one of the zipper suited sun gods — in the vast scheme of things, not such a bad thing to be — is standing not far off to the side of the Eidolon's ramp, turning around in a slow circle in between light stomps of her feet. Maybe she's trying to settle her armour into place. Maybe she's not sure Terra Firma is going to stay Firma. The CO's barked orders bring her head around, helmet rattling slightly with the abrupt motion. "A perimeter?" she mouths at Daphne. That's one of those fancy Marine words, innit? She looks around for Laskaris — as a Captain, he'll know ever better what to at a time like this than when he was a mere Lieutenant.
"Yessir." Stepping out with a pause to take a thorough gander around, Kai is soon moving towards the aforementioned door, gun slung over her back, one hand dropping into one of her pouches, another into a pocket on her chamos. Keeping low, moving swift, the Newbie seeks to close the distance as quickly and undetectedly as possible. So far so good, right? C-4 and the detonation tools come up within palms, carefully handled for quite obvious reasons.
Lasher snorts in amusement. "Zipper suited sun gods?" he muses as he passes Michelle. "Haven't heard that one in a while, Major." His voice is sardonic as he moves out, hefting his rifle and adjusting his helmet one last time. He stops a few steps in front of Michelle, turning around to watch his people disembark. "All right, you jocks, this isn't a summer picnic," he sighs. "Spread out. Let's form a proper bloody picket, shall we?"
Nod. "Sir." Lunair goes quiet and stands. She'll assist when needed, but otherwise she - for her part, is mute. If she's nervous, nothing shows. She merely helps those with explosives and keeps her eyes open.
Kulko follows along in Barto's wake, two paces behind and to the left. His own combat gear is squared away before he leaves Eidolon's protective shell, but he leaves his rifle slung over one shoulder. He trots along with the Marines, ostensibly to supervise the blowing up of stuff.
"Nothin' quite like soil an' sun," Dallas notes, zipping her flight suit up higher. "Anybody needs it, I got some duct tape." The frak she has duct tape for is anyone's guess. At least she didn't bring a purse on the mission. Oh, wait, she did. A small black cotton bag is slung across her chest, the contents a mystery. Except for that duct tape. A hand pats the little lump of a pewter goddess pendant under the flightsuit and tee. A moment of basking is all they get before getting down to business. She thumbs open the hip holstered pistol, one hand resting on it while she walks.
Armed and ready, Allie waits for their SL's command to follow that already given, her gaze darting from him to the others. Yes, she needs direction just as the others do, being out of her element so badly making it necessary for her to seek guidance from the Captain. "Yes, sir," she responds once he speaks and steps off, spacing herself evenly between two other bodies, rifle at the ready. Here's for praying it won't be needed.
Getting out of there and over near the door, Samuel lets Explosive Girl handle her part for now, looking around rather carefully. "Ground…" he mutters to himself. Rifle kept ready for whatever might come now.
Michelle just looks long at Lasher as he comments. But there's nothing said immediately to him. The woman just steps away from the landing ramp and takes a knee beside the ship's hull. Kulko can handle the explosives team. Her eyes squint against the sun as she reaches into a pouch and pulls out her sunglasses against the early morning sun.
Fortunately, there's another Demolitions-Marine. He's a short, twitchy looking fellow. He's a blonde feller with blue eyes that never seem still. "Here," He grunts and will helps Kai set up the charges to blow the door. Lunair herself merely … looks leadery and watches. The fellow helping Kai seems to be pretty decent at it. He won't ever juggle charges while riding a unicycle on fire and whistling Dixie, but the odds are slim they'll get blown to Kingdom Come. Maybe.
With Covington's pilfered cigarette hanging at the corner of his mouth, Rojas carries the slug-holding shotgun like someone with a little practice. Ok, so Cylons are a little bigger than deer, but the basic lessons hold true. His face shows more offense at the skeletal craft than it does to the birds and silence. "Y'know…" He sticks close to the very woman he stole a smoke from. "That jus' ain't right."
Daphne shrugs her shoulds at Tisiphone. Message clear: Beats the hell out of me. With Lasher's instructions, Daphne nods, moving to where she needs to be, rifle in hand and ready to go. She unlocks the safety and crouches in place. A hand presses against the dust-coated ground. Idly, but swiftly, she pockets a few tiny chunks of debris.
Sitka is somewhere near the back of the clutch of disembarking crew, blending in by virtue of the black, armoured combat gear he's sporting. After a few moments spent sweeping his gaze over the buckled and warped tarmac, littered here and there with those dusty, feathered carcasses, he turns toward Michelle and gives a curt nod of acknowledgement. No sense in giving orders in triplicate here, so he hefts up the strap of his rifle and sets off toward the far end of the tarmac.
"C'mon, little more this way." Tisiphone directs Daphne over that-a-way by walking near the other Ensign and (lightly) shoulder-checking her like some sort of armoured-up Border Collie. Hyah. Hyah. She doesn't seem entirely comfortable with her rifle, either, eyeing it up ever few moments as the pair of them form part of the perimeter.
Attached, pinned, and wired the explosive is, Kai's fingers are swift and adept, knowing this routine inside and out. And that someone else joins her? Well, she's quite happy about that as well. Only after watching him a few seconds to determine he's not some lunatic. Ahem. "Set. Three." Three bombs, ready to go. "Armed. You got it down there?" Low words for the other explosives man, pale eyes cast his direction. "You ready, lets roll back on your ok." If Kulko's near her, it doesn't really compute, or at least doesn't distract her from her mission. Which is good. Very good.
A thumbsup from the other explosives man. "Got 'er," His accent iis a bit down home. Possible Aerilonian spotted. But mercifully he seems to be good at his job, slender fingers working quickly and easily. "Set and armed," He adds. He'll move back when Kai does.
Kulko is close enough to observe the CMC goings-on, but far enough back that he has no need to hurry when the 'get clear' is sounded. A hand rests on the unfamiliar sidearm, and he lets his gaze drift upwards for a moment at the vermilion sky.
G-4 is truly an incredible thing. It's amazing, really, how much explosive power can be packed into just a small handful of it — and the two Marines have applied far more than a small handful to the door. But once 'Fire in the hole!' rings out over the strangely still air and all that G-4 goes up in flames, the Marines find that there's far more Door there than they'd anticipated. After all, this is a structure designed to withstand a full-on nuclear blast and survive.
Barto dips her head and helmet towards the blast, waiting for the sound of the explosion to fade in the distance before she looks up. As the dust clears, she sighs long and glances around. "Pilots, keep your eyes open!" she yells before looking back towards the door and Kulko, the insistance written plainly on her face.
Samuel steps clear of the area where things will be blasting, glancing around for a few moments. Keeping silent as the explosives go off, frowning a bit at the sound.
It takes all of the blonde man's willpower not to go 'yeehaw!' as it goes off. But he ducks accordingly and frowns. "Dernit, guess it's a proper door," He grunts and looks to Kai. "Well, let's have a looksee and see if we can do this properly." He starts to examine the door and find weakpoints. "This might be a good spot…" He murmurs and starts to look.
Once the dust has settled, and the door is still Kulko sets to wandering around the periphery of the aperture, peering closely at the walls. Every once in a while, he gives the concrete and steel a thump with his gloved fist. "Hey y'all," he calls to the Marines. "See if you can't turn up some kind of manual override. Ain't no way they rigged this up to only open from the inside." Work smarter, not harder.
Oh, Kai'll move back alright. A swiftly as possible. And with the beautiful explosion…."What the frak?" Softly mewed, eyes dropping wide open. "Oh, you're a sweet little thing, aren't you." A slashed grin, almost respectful of that stupid metal heap, but she's not eyeballing it for long. Gaze sweeping the grounds after the sound of detonation, she's quite clearly making certain they don't have company yet.
[TAC1] Polaris says, "Uh. Major Barto, Gunship here. Just felt a tickle on our DRADIS. Figured we should let you know."
Sitka does the old turn and duck, dropping into a crouch to make himself a smaller target as the explosives are detonated. As the spit and rattle of debris finally clears, he turns and squints through his goggles to find.. the door still mostly intact. Well, that was underwhelming. He adjusts his helmet slightly, then switches his attention back to perimeter checking while the marines get their problem solved.
[TAC1] "Cobra Actual" Barto says, "Copy, Guns. What's the story?"
Ducking his head just long enough to let his ears clear after the explosion, Rojas turns to give the door a quick glance. It gets little more than an eyebrow before he's ooking back at the perimeter. "Think they should try knockin'?" Wafts over to the nearby Dallas.
[TAC1] Polaris says, "Story's we just felt a tickle, sir. Can't tell you more than that without turning our systems on. Please advise, over."
"Yeah, because we were going around with our eyes closed. Silly us," Lasher mutters under his breath after the Major's yell. He grunts as the demo's team efforts accomplish, well, not much. He goes back to pacing along the perimeter, rifle slung to his back as his eyes scan across the tarmac.
[TAC1] "Cobra Actual" Barto says, "Keep emissions control for now. Report anything further."
Daphne nods to Tisiphone. At the shoulder-check, she smirks back at her friend, bumping right back. With a nod, the woman's as all business as her nerves will allow her to be, adjusting her combat hemlet and looking hard at the horizon and searching. At the radio chatter, there's a pause, and then a frown. "Here goes nothing. You bring any cigarettes?" Daphne does not smoke.
"That door's tighter'n a bark on a tree," Dallas mutters, jumping a little at the detonation. Aerilon teaches us to look in the direction of loud noises, if only briefly. Never know when BobbyRay might get hold of the shine and decide to start playing molotov juggler.
Alessandra's teeth and back clench at the explosion and she too crouches, her hands coming up to her ears, weapon laid over her thighs for a second. "Cripes. Mother frakkers." Looking over her shoulder, she takes a minute to re-steel her nerves, her body trembling for that long, but soon she's soon back on her feet fully and at the ready.
[TAC1] Polaris says, "Roger. Gunship is keeping active pinging offline, say again, Gunship is keeping active pinging offline."
Barto stands a bit from her crouch by the ship. "Marines! Get it open on the double!" She stoops around the side of the ship and looks to the pilots and deck crews. "Gunship has a faint reading on DRADIS. When that door is open, I want everyone inside on the double! First priority, ready birds for immediate launch!"
If they didn't notice the Eidolon landing and the Raptors leaving, then they won't notice the sound of all that G-4 going up, right? Right? Tisiphone doesn't seem entirely convinced. She starts pacing, the quick, cagey strides carrying her in a winding Figure 8 over the cracked and blackened tarmac. She's still squinting against the sunlight like a mole dragged out of its burrow, fingers drumming soundlessly on her rifle. "Course I brought my frakking smokes." she mutters distractedly to Daphne.
"Aye aye sirs," The demo man grunts. As far as he's concerned, if they pull this off, he should be /swimming/ in the shine. Dallas gets a grin briefly but he's back to work faster than you can say 'dueling banjos'. He's working his hands and eyes and brain cells fast as neurons will fire and muscles pull. "Whaddya think of that spot - there, near a hinge?" He offers.
[TAC1] Polaris says, "Barto, this is Gunship. We — we just got pinged again."
[TAC1] Polaris says, "And when I say ping, I mean ping."
[TAC1] "Cobra Actual" Barto says, "Have we been made, Guns?"
[TAC1] Polaris says, "Won't know until they make us, Major, will we. Gunship is formally requesting permission to go active."
Sitka happens to be standing fairly near the dynamic duo of Ensigns when smokes are mentioned, and his eyes tick over briefly as if by reflex. Nothing, however, is said, and he resumes his patrol trajectory— one eye on the horizon, the other on that blast door. The rifle, he keeps a comfortable grip on.
[TAC1] "Cobra Actual" Barto says, "Copy, declined. The might be fishing. Power up the rest of your bird but DO NOT power up your active scanners. Be ready to launch and put weapons online."
[TAC1] "Bootstrap" Trask says, "Guns, Cobra Actual: Bootstrap. Speaking from personal experience, going active will draw the attention of several Basestars. If they get a visual, the Eidolon will be made."
"-Stupid-. We -should- have checked. Right here. Focus it to enhance the frakking fissure. Might take more than one try." And already she's slapping C-4 to the exact place notified, the use of explosive increasing in size. Armed. Set. Ready. "Ready?" Impatient now, Kai still remains under absolute control of her movements, careful and swift just like before.
[TAC1] Polaris says, "Aren't you special, Bootstrap. Gunship hears and obeys, Barto. DRADIS remains passive; weapons hot."
Samuel frowns a little as he sees the doors. But as he's not one of those demolitions experts, he keeps his attention on the surroundings, for now. He's more of a repairing things person, not a blowing them up kind of guy, himself.
Daphne stays put, eyes positively glued on the distant expanse of destruction before her. "I think I might want to bum one off of you when this is over. Or before it's over. I think I need a smoke."
"Faster than slow, Zaranj," Kulko prods, unslinging his rifle and resting it across his chest. He hangs back far enough to avoid the blast, but he's all up in their business in spirit.
Like Shiv, Skids has her eyes on the surrounding areas, rather than staring at the marines. While they play boomboom she keeps her eye on the surrounding area, covering that which is to her Captain's starboard. How many explosions does it take to get to the center of a military installation?
[TAC1] "Bootstrap" Trask says, "That I am, Guns. And, to state the obvious, expect company. They will come. Bootstrap out."
Voices catches Alessandra's ear and she turns slightly, looking at the Ensigns as she does. She doesn't go as far as to actually shush them but it's fairly obvious that she'd love to do so, her nerves shot to frak thanks to the explosives which may very easily be enough noise to attract attention. They're left alone though and she's back to looking around, her finger stroking the trigger on her rifle as one might a pet, seeking comfort from doing so.
"Easier said 'n done, bossman, these doors were meant to hold up against nuclear blasts, I reckon," The blonde Marine points out. "Should have her open faster 'n a battlion on free cake 'n booze," He nods sagely. This demoman is full of wisdom. Or something. Either way, he's focused and working at a fairly snappy pace. The tip of his tongue sticks out from the corner of his mouth comically. Lunair herself is quietly in the background.
"Y'know, Dally-" Rojas pulls the stock of his weapon to his shoulder, glancing aside to a few of the skeletal craft before the cigarette is allowed to drop from his mouth, falling under a boot. "It'd be real nice if ah could hide behind one-a'them without m'balls glowin' after."
"You gotta take a piss, Nater?" Dallas glances over.
Seconds — minutes, even — pass in relative idleness. And then, suddenly — well, this is one of those things that's easier heard than said. A pair of silver things far too small to be Raiders appears on the horizon, peeping over the treeline. They resemble small miniature torpedoes — that is, if torpedoes can skim the ground at near-supersonic speed. But surprisingly, neither torpedo does anything so nasty as explode, their glowing red nose cones merely sweeping back and forth.
Searching.
[TAC1] Oberlin whispers across the comms. "Cobra Actual, Alpha Team. On approach to objective. Observing debris en route. It looks like…self-sabotage? Over."
One of Kulko's idle /thumps/ yields a hollower sound than all the others, giving the young Canceran pause. He slings his rifle and drops to a knee, flipping open his pocket knife and prying the panel off. "Demolitions, standby," he calls, rummaging around in the cabinet. After another few moments, he keys up his comms.
[TAC1] Kulko says, "Eidolon actual, found an override, but the whole joint's locked down. No way to open this short of getting inside or powerin' her up and I dunno if we can make that happen from out here. Proceed with demolitions?"
[TAC1] "Cobra Actual" Barto says, "Get the door open, Kulko and I mean -now-. Alpha team, say again? Sabotage?"
Lasher tenses at the sudden commotion from Major Barto. He resumes his course after only a short pause, though; not as if he can do anything about it from where he is. There's a slow exhale as his eyes continue to sweep over the horizon. His gaze lingers on the Ensign Theater for a moment, but he doesn't shush them either; instead, his attention wanders to the lines of wrecked Vipers up and down the runway. "Poor dumb blighters never even got a bleedin' chance to take off," he mutters. Then the… whatever they are appear. "Major!" he shouts, pointing up to the torpedo-like objects. "There, above the treeline!" He points, as if the noise wasn't enough of an attention grabber.
Kulko doesn't bother responding on the comms, but lifts a hand Kai's way. One thumb is raised. Boom is a go.
[TAC1] "Click" Daphne says, "E-Enemy contact. They've ducked back out of sight, but they're there."
[TAC1] "Cobra Actual" Barto says, "HOLD CHARGES!"
Samuel is staying near the doors with the others Marines present, keeping silent for the moment. No need to trouble the others as they're hard at work.
Bobby, aka, Demo-man freezes. Starts to work - stops again. "Boy, this feels like a game-a green light, redlight," He grunts softly.
Daphne watches out at the horizon and blinks, squinting and then biting her lower lip. It's tradition. Sadly, it's had time to heal, so there's no scab, but this is a new beginning fo rher. Clearly. She mutters into the headset, then gives Tisiphone a glance.
"Yeah, I really d-" Rojas usual banter is cut short as his head snaps up like a Pez dispenser being toyed with like an eight-year-old. Woosh. His mouth opens to call something out, but… Well, everone else beats him to it. "Yeah. That."
Barto looks up, following Lasher's direction. She's already made teh radio call and warning. "Hold fire! Everyone get under cover!" The Major falls back down and tucks herself as close to the Eidolon as she can.
[TAC1] Polaris says, "Eidolon's — Gods, Barto." There's terror — and wonderment — in the gunship pilot's voice. "The IFF is singing off the charts, sir. This shit is — I don't remember seeing any of —"
[TAC1] Polaris says, "It's like something — don't know where — something — something's talking — talking to it, and it's telling like Suzie after a glass of bubbly — " All semblance of com discipline has gone out the window. "I see 'em! Opening fire!"
"Great," mutters Tisiphone to Daphne, looking back over her shoulder as she paces away on her restless little circuit. She seems unaware of the attention their conversation is generating — after all, others are talking, as well. "First smoke? You'll puke, you know." Step. "Probably." Step, step. "You can have a drag off mine. If you-" Her voice cuts off at Lasher's shout, and her head swivels in the Captain's direction, then the Major's. Cover? Right. She crosses to Daphne and actually grabs the other Ensign's arm to yank her toward the nearest blown-apart Viper. That's cover-like, isn't it?
Words are kept, Kai sparing a glance to her partner in Explodey Things, before she tucks close to the building, against a ledge. Sure, she'll be on spot when the command comes to continue, but she's not going to be an obvious, sitting duck to be spotted and shot before she can breathe.
[TAC1] Kulko says, "Guns, /hold fire/. Say again, /hold/."
Alessandra blinks and squints, trying to see what it is Laskaris did. "Are you sure…?" she asks only to fall quiet as Daphne has seen something as well. "Frak." Running, she looks around before finding something to duck behind, her head brought just below the top of the chunk of debris she was fortunate enough to be close to. "Well, guess our luck couldn't hold out forever," she grumbles to herself while shrugging, trying to ignore the gnawing-sinking feeling she has in her belly now.
The Demoman looks back to Kai and goes to duck with the others. Lunair joins them as well. Bth frown.
Samuel frowns as he hears the call from the Major, and heads for the cover near where Kai is, for the moment. "What the…" he mutters, with a sigh.
Just as quickly, Kulko's thumb inverts to jab at the tarmac. He hustles over to the demo team in an awkward, weapon-laden crouch-walk, picking a spot of rubble nearby and nestling into cover. At the panicked transmissions from the Raptor, he's on the comms in response, CoC be damned.
[TAC1] Polaris says, "Holding." A different voice, now. This — probably the ECO, who's panting like a motherfrakker. "Holding." He's much, much steadier than his friend. "Locked the controls from here, sir, before he could shoot. I'm sure charges'll be filed when I get back, but —"
"..the frak," mutters Shiv to himself. His eyes, too, are trained on the two silvery objects swooping low to the ground, though he doesn't bother reaching for his wireless transmitter and adding to the auditory clutter. When his senior officer says to get down, he gets down. Which happens to be behind the ruined husk of a viper, rotting out on the tarmac. He drops into a crouch and pins his back against the hunk of machinery, rifle at the ready. Just like the good old days.
[TAC1] Polaris says, "And — looks like the coast is clear, Major. Whatever happened, that IFF's gone back to normal. No more chirping." The ECO breathes loudly into the com. "Carry on."
For Lasher, the closest bit of cover happens to be the burnt out Viper that's already serving as sanctuary for Daphne and Tisiphone. His rifle comes off of his shoulder, held in a ready position as he crouches behind the ruined fighter's fuselage. "Well, frak me running," he says with almost absurd calm. The pair of women get a thin smile. "Fun times, innit?"
Daphne doesn't need to be told more than once. SHe's with Tisiphone in a flash, moving for cover behind the shattered starship hull. She slides into place, probably scratching up her new uniform, but seeming, for once, not to care.
[TAC1] "Cobra Actual" Barto says, "Understood, Guns. Thank you. Keep us appraised. Actual, out."
The Major isn't quite breathless but it sure as hell rattled her. The woman looks in the direction of the Raptor and slowly peers out from behind the Eidolon. "Anyone have a visual on those damned things?!"
Kulko claps Kai on the shoulder. "Alright. Enough frakking around. Let's get that door open before they get back." He rises and heads for a safe distance yet again.
Dallas seems to be pretty absent the clue, though she knows something is up when someone yells to take cover, she has no idea where the threat is coming from. Blonde moment, if you will. The woman is peripherally aware of places to hide, given Nathan's recent discussion of places to hide, she presumes, to take a tinkle, and she's off like a shot to find the ruined body of a plane to crouch down, like a chipmunk going to ground.
Samuel follows Kulko's example in heading for the safe distance for now, frowning a little bit as he glances around.
"They went, Major!" Rojas calls out, skittering his way to the same piece of wreck Dallas ran for. "Got an eyefull an' ran off to call buddies, ah bet!" Huff. Huff. Huff. "GodsdamnitDallyMyPissspot!"
Frakking around? "Sir, I'm going to blow this shit wide, wide open." If one minor explosion got the attention of Cylons, then making it any less won't do any good, and making it more will get the same result. Kai needs nothing to make -that- decision. She's back, running to the door to continue her work in a matter of seconds. "Hey boy-o." Demo man. "Make it good and hard. Might not get a third chance. Keep reserves." Click, slap, ping, pat. Double-timing it, it's a matter of seconds before she quips, "Ready?" Better be, dammit.
[TAC1] "Bootstrap" Trask says, "Alpha Team, Bootstrap: Negative on heat and electronic signals, but I'm reading a MASSIVE amount of cooling where you are. Like, your heat signatures are being drowned out massive amounts."
Sitka, meanwhile, seems to have ended up picking the same hidey hole as Alessandra. He takes note of her with a faint smile behind his helmet, though the majority of his attention is on the treeline and perimeter of the tarmac. "Ready to do this, Lucky?" he asides to the Lieutenant, low-voiced.
Tisiphone didn't duck and cover in a very combat-ready manner — she takes cover like she's /hiding/. Crouched, down by one of the explosion-twisted landing gears. It's the first time she's been out of the squinty sunshine, and it makes her eyes seem very wide and round. "Yeah. Interesting times, Sir." Muttered to Laskaris. "May we continue living in them." Wry, with the slightest emphasis on /living/.
[TAC1] "Cobra Actual" Barto says, "Alpha, this is Cobra Actual. Be advised, we just had a pair of..somethings..buzz us. Little things looked like torpedos. They were scanning. We didn't get to see where they ran off to. What about this cooling? Like our signatures are being jammed?"
"Frakkin' around huh," The blonde man grunts. He just shrugs it offf and nods, going to help Kai. "Got it," His fingers move fast. For a country boy, he's pretty twitchy. He's working like a madman and nods, "Ready as ever."
Alessandra turns slowly, moving via pivoting on the balls of her feet while she sweeps what she can of the area while saying down. "What was it," she asks Lasher quietly as she scans from what she has given herself as a vantage point, or lack thereof as the case may be. "I didn't see frakall," she adds as an afterthought.
"Stacked, Lieutenant Kulko. On your ready mark," calls Kai, moving with her counterpart backwards. This explosion? This had better work. Low and taking cover several feet away, the detonator remains in her hands. On his cue.
"You better hold it, son," Dallas asides to Nathan, hunkered down behind the wrecked hull. "I get splash damage, you ain't gonna be able t'sit down for a week."
What Rojas means is —
Eh. Better to let the missiles talk for themselves: twelve of them, fired and forgotten by the Raider from which they came. Six of them skitter across the runway, flying so low they've got no choice but to smash into various bits and pieces of Viper and Raptor that have conveniently served as miniature defensive shields; the other half, however, learn dynamically from their comrades' mistakes, skipping up sky-high before plunging down onto the massive freighter's engines. Six simultaneous explosions rock the once-quiet complex, frying the nacelles and gods know what else inside this misbegotten vessel: six spouts of orange and red and a hell of a lot of molten metal, which flies this way and that as tylium tanks ignite.
Message received.
Alessandra belatedly catches on to the fact that Shiv said something to her and she responds with a slight snicker to her voice. "As ready as I ever will be," she answers the other Captain with a wink. "Guess we get to kick more Cylon ass, huh?"
"Yeah. This is -swell-, sir." Daphne makes a fist with her free hand and sweeps it in front of her, all fake enthusiasm and plastic charm. She points her arm in the direction she spotted cylons. "There were a bunch of robots right over there. They got a look at us, and then they bailed. I have no idea what we're doing, but I hope we hurry the frak up before they get tired of waiting."
[TAC1] "Bootstrap" Trask says, "Actual, Bootstrap. Not exactly, sir. The heat signatures are effectively being suppressed. And…" There's a faint tapping sound in the background, "Alpha Team is not responding. I have a feeling they didn't hear the heads-up."
Lunair grunts and follows. He's not being there. A few blinks from Lunair and the demo man. Oh crap. That's explodey. They're both wide-eyed. "Gosh," The blonde rubs the back of his head.
Rojas turns to peer over the top of their aircraft cover. "Darlin', you do anythin' to me, an I won't be sittin' for a-" Wait, that's not a glint in his eye. That's a reflection. "-AaaahSHIT." Dallas gets a hand on her head that shoves her downwards in the most un-friedly way imaginable. Sorry 'bout that.
"Do it now!" Kulko shouts as he takes cover from Eidolon's fiery death throes. What better to mask an explosion than another, bigger explosion?
"Yessir." The Big Red Button? It's pushed. Kai's thumb to the rescue!
Its the sound that reaches Barto before she see's them. If anyone was close enough they would be able to see her pale. "Oh, shit," she mutters as the missiles lift into the sky. Mostly because they are headed for the ship she is hiding under. The woman is up and running for her life as they come screaming in. She's barely out of range before they explode into the engine nacelles. Its a moment before the Major is moving again, rolling in the grass and dead birds. Her hand lifts to her throatmic.
[TAC1] "Bootstrap" Trask says, "I'm getting static, sir. I'll monitor the heat sigs, but I suspect they'll fade into nothingness the further Alpha Team ventures where they're venturing. In the good news column, we aren't pinging any Cylon activity." Beat. "Yet."
Samuel throws himself to the ground at the explosions from the ship. "pose throws himself to the ground at the explosions from the ship. "Not a good day…" he mutters, before he looks around again, rather carefully.
[TAC1] "Cobra Actual" Barto says, "Alpha! Eidolon's been hit! We're busted! Get your team assembled and back to your Raptors! Get ready for contact!"
Sitka's a sneaky sort. Especially in that combat gear. Pilot by day, ninja by.. night. Also day. "Mmhm," is his somewhat distracted murmur to Alessandra, as his eyes follow the path of one of those missiles into the Eidolon herself. "Shit," is hissed under his breath, and a quick glance sent Dallas and Nathan's way to ensure they're still in one piece.
Polaris: Even as Eidolon's engines go up in flames, an explosion of a different sort rocks the once-quiet air station — that other, bigger explosion. And though the demolitions team manages to split the fissure incrementally more, to the point at which the first blast door now flies off its structurally weakened hinges, they discover to their dismay that a nuclear-proof structure means more than one such door is in play. Hello, door number two. A good day to you.
And in case the nukes themselves weren't sufficiently loud, one final explosion slams through the site — a shockwave of sound so loud it's almost inaudible, so damaging is it to the puny human eardrum. The source makes itself evident a half-second later: it's a Heavy Raider that now disgorges bullet-like Centurions from its wide-open belly, their machine guns already blazing.
Daphne's jaw drops at the explosions. "Mother. Frakker." She looks between Laskaris and Tisiphone, as if waiting for one of them to pull a big starship out of their assholes. When that doesn't work, she slinks a little closer into her viper wreckage, practicing the art of how not to be see. "I-I suppose the bright point is that this can't get t-too much worse, right?"
[TAC1] "Bootstrap" Trask says, "Actual, Bootstrap. Strongly advise that Engineering deactivate the Cylon IFF's installed aboard Eidolon. They're effectively useless now and we'd best not risk they having a back door that can be kicked in."
[TAC3] "Bootstrap" Trask says, "Alpha Team, Bootstrap. Do you copy? The Eidolon has been hit. I say again: the Eidolon has been hit. Over."
[TAC1] Polaris says, "LOOKS LIKE THAT FRAKKING BACK DOOR WAS JUST KICKED IN." That's the extremely panicked pilot — who gets his vox turned off. "Sorry, Major. Pinging like mad — eight — no, nine, ten — no, twelve — sixteen! Sixteen centurions and Fat Boy, closing in on your position from the opposite end of the runway."
[TAC1] "Cobra Actual" Barto says, "Guns, Actual! Get airborne! We need air support, now! Walkers disgorging to the south! You are red and free!" A beat passes, the Major clearly excited as machineguns can be heard in the background. "Alpha!! We are under fire! Scramble your team!""
[TAC1] Polaris says, "Actual, Gunship, GO GO GO."
Whatever Lasher might have said to Allie or the stalwart pair from Team Ensign is lost as Cylon missles scream over the landscape, half of them tearing into Eidolon's rear quarter. "Frak!" Lasher spits out, his head twisting back towards the major and the marines working on the door. "Motherfrakkin' sonuva…" He trails off, an angry sneer tugging at his upper lip. Eyes flick towards Daphne and Tisiphone. "Frakall, Ensign, suren as it can always get worse." Good thing he never tried being a doctor, as he'd likely have a terrible bedside manner. "You're not dead yet, are you?" Then, the report from the pilot and the orders from Barto. "Frak me," he snarls again, hefting his rifle as the adrenaline begins to sing in his ears.
[TAC3] "Bootstrap" Trask says, "Alpha Team, Bootstrap. I say again: do you copy? The Eidolon has been hit. I say again: the Eidolon has been hit. Over."
[TAC3] "Bootstrap" Trask says, "Bunny, I'm just getting static from Alpha." Beat. "Frak."
[TAC1] "Bootstrap" Trask says, "Actual, Bootstrap. Alpha is still incommunicado. Advise if Alpha requires extraction."
Michelle rolls herself to the side and behind a burned-out car, only to realize she left her rifle on the ground where she landed. The woman scrambles up and reaches for it only to flail back quickly to cover. She's no Marine. "OPEN FIRE! PICK YOUR SHOTS!"
Kulko looks between the two demolitions techs as he listens to the radio chatter, then points to the second door. "If you've got enough to take that frakker down, do it. Otherwise, on me. There's a fight brewin' and we're gonna get in it. Raine! Come on, you're with me." He pulls back the bolt on his rifle to chamber a first round and thumbs off the safety, rising to trot towards a more opportune firing position.
Dallas is hunkered down, hands pressed over her ears as things explode, bits fly, and rain down on her cover. A silent prayer is uttered, her lips moving as the enemy makes itself known. She is but a small human shaped target crouched in the shadow of destroyed air machine. What is a pilot without her craft? Meat. "… So much for slippin' in the back door. Guess we ain't use enough GHB." Dallas slides her rifle off of her shoulder, and goes through checking it with only a slight tremor in her hands. "Note ta self." She flips the fire mode to burst. "Time ta put on the big girl panties."
There's no reaction from Allie, just a stunned, uncomprehending stare as she watches what happens to the ship and then what else follows after. "No…" she finally whispers, the breathless exclamation barely leaving her lips. "What…this can't…it can't be happening." It has been said from the beginning that this was going to possibly be a dangerous mission they were signing up for but even then, who could have expected this as a possible outcome. "Lords of Kobol, please keep watch over us, your children…" she begins to pray only to stop midway through it, her rifle readied.
[TAC3] "Bunny" Evandreus says, "I'm listening, Bootsies. I'm just trying to find— oh, she's back. Um, lemme give the comms a closer listen and I'll see if I can rig up a boost to it."
[TAC1] "Cobra Actual" Barto says, "Negative! We're under fire, Alpha! Get your team and collapse back here! Leave your godsdamn Raptor if you have to, but warn them!"
Daphne looks about amidst the mighty badaboom that follows after the others. She cringes, covering her ears and getting only a high pitched whine for her troubles as her auditory nerve takes a damned vacation. She falls prone for a moment, then grabs for her rifle and peers around. She points ahead and says something like, "FRAK." but she can't hear a word she's saying.
"Are. You. Frakking. Kidding." Not a statement. Just punctuated words, separated from one another, and yet somehow remaining a 'whole'. Kai? A little more amused, though the emotion is easily overrun with the Need For Speed. "Demo, haul ass. Get the charges set! Target hinge points!" The natural selection for door weaknesses. "Last chance, boy-o, -last frakking chance-. Gotta help our pilots and marines, get on it, move! Careful! Move!" She's uttering through her movements, the charges ready and set in moments flat, girl taking cover from bombs -and- approaching Cylons.
"Focus fire if you can!" The JiG offers. Lunair goes to take a potshot at the aforementioned Cenarions.
The Eidolon's exploding engines pull Tisiphone into a hunkered-down ball, and that deafening wall of sound bring her shoulders up in a full-body wince. The sight of the approaching Centurions drains more blood from her face. She moves from a crouch to a kneel, giving her rifle a last glance — good rifle. niiiice rifle — before sighting along it for her shot.
Rojas peers at his cover-partner out of the corner of his eye, checking the chamber of his rifle before patting the woman on her shoulder and popping up over the wreck-cover to look at the incoming robits. "You got big girl panties? Since when?"
Heart pounding a dizzying rhythm in his chest, Sitka takes two deep, purposeful breaths before shoving off the side of his 'cover' and bringing his rifle up to aim at one of the silvery shapes being disgorged from the raider. "Focus, Sophronia," he hisses to the woman nearby. "I'll cover you, but you've got to focus."
Samuel grumbles as he moves to a covered person over by the pilots for now, readying his rifle very quickly. "Time to get to work…" he mutters, shaking his head a little bit as he aims.
"On my target, Raine. Second from the left." Kulko hunkers down behind the same derelict Raptor as the Marine JiG and sights down his rifle.
"Quit talkin' about my panties, possum." Dallas tucks her rifle securely against her shoulder. "I'm settlin' back to my roots, gettin' a feel for that time I shot my brother in the ass cos he cut off my hair. These toasters is frakked."
"Aye aye," Raine grunts in acknowledgement of Kulko. Lunair seems to respect his opinion and turns her rifle on Bob the Cenarion.
It's a good thing the ensigns don't seem to need reassurance, because Lasher doesn't provide any. He simply pops his head and rifle up over the wrecked Viper, taking aim at the first piece of shiny metal to catch his eye.
Alessandra targets one of the Cylons and prepares to shoot, the woman mentally continuing the prayer she started earlier while she looks down her sights.
[TAC1] "Bootstrap" Trask says, "Actual, Boots. 4 Raiders and another 4 tailing. ETA: 30 seconds. Alpha's heat sigs are masked. We're dead if we loiter. Advise."
Polaris: The Cylons are fast — absurdly so, given how much weight they're packing and how much ammo they're shooting. Seven thousand feet of runway is chewed up in four-foot leaps, their agility doing them well now that they've been roused into fighting form. One of them plows into a molten Viper and pushes it aside without incident; another simply leaps on top of an overturned fighter, crushing the nose cone before landing once more on ground. And still their bullets ricochet around the killing field that this place has become, while behind them eight more Centurions — some of these armed with what appear to be shoulder-mounted missiles — begin moving into position. The noose is closing — and quickly.
[TAC1] "Cobra Actual" Barto hesitates. "Romeo Tango Bravo, Alpha! This is a hot LZ, though!"
A ricochet pings off of the hull of her cover, then smacks into Covington's leg, but not hard enough to pierce anything. It sure stings like the dickens. "Horseshit!" Dallas yelps, then clenches her jaw. Nobody heard that amid the hail of fire, right? She ticks her weapons fire switch to another setting. "Oh, punkin', now Mama's irritated."
[TAC1] "Shiv" Sitka says, "Actual, I think we've got some heavy ordnance moving in. Don't suppose we could get some focus fire from the Gunship?"
[TAC1] Polaris says, "Gunship's on it. Suppressing now."
Lasher's first burst of fire goes wide, only one of his rounds making contact and that one just pinging uselessly off the metal monster's chest plating. His eyes widen slightly at the Centurions' frenetic pace. "Frakkers just can't wait to get some of this, wot?" he asks no one in particular. That cold sneer is still in residence on his upper lip, his jaw clenched as he squeezes off another burst.
Alessandra grunts when the rifle kicks a bit more than she expects, the position she's in making it hard for her to brace for the recoil. It sends her shot off and the Centurion she aimed for is missed entirely, a fact that gets her angry at herself. "Not this time, mother frakker," she exclaims darkly while positioning herself better, taking a bit to brace herself before another burst of gunfire's sent flying towards the tincan, sheep-frakking asshole she aimed for the first time while the Cylons' bullets buzz throughout the air at their various targets.
Bullets, bullets everywhere. "Fraksakes, focus fire!" Tisiphone can barely hear her own shout past the ringing in her ears and the gunfire. "Daph, stay on the leftmost one!" She remembers what Corporal Maragos said, once upon a time at the MOUT course, and continues firing at the same one.
With tracers streaking around her ears, Daphne levels her rifle towards one of the advancing centurions and squeezes the trigger, doing exactly what they've taught her in the academy. Center body mass. Center body mass. Center body mass is not exactly what she gets, overcompensating for recoil and hitting the robot right in the gut, but that's okay, too. Sparks fly from the wound while the return fire manages to not lodge itself into her cerebral cortex, but instead filter through the air, ding loudly off of the ruined airframe, and so on. "Copy that! We'll walk it across!"
Samuel fires off his shots, hitting the Centurion he fired at with some of the shots in the burst. Unfortunately, another Centurion hits him in the neck area, and he lets out a bit of a growl, before he moves to fire at the one that shot at him. Kill or be killed right now, isn't it?
The tinktinktink of rounds hitting cover get Rojas ducking his head, all of his burst missing the target he was aiming at. Luckily, Dallas is picking up his slack. There's a soft sigh, and a "My easy-going nature is gettin' sorely frakkin' tested." to his cover-partner before he's popping back up.
Sitka sights downrange, squeezes off a quick burst of armour piercing rounds, then drops back against the charred husk of fighter aircraft as a return volley goes whizzing past and pockmarks the tarmac noisily. "Steady there, Sophronia," he murmurs to the woman beside him, waiting for the sound of the centurions' guns reloading before popping back up again and cocking his own rifle.
One of those big ole' 7.62 rounds whizzes just shy of Kulko's helmeted noggin, instead impacting on and puncturing the armor on his left bicep. "Frak me," Stephen hisses as he sustains his first injury of the war. He takes a moment behind cover to steady himself, then pops up to squeeze off another burst, decidedly less bloodthirsty now that he's spilling some of his own.
Winces. Samuel! Lunair looks sympathetic, hearing his growl. She blasts at the Cenarion she'd shot at before. A soft grunt. She is silent for her part, reverting to instinct and training. The blonde demonman is doing his thing.
[TAC1] "Bootstrap" Trask says, "Bootstrap copies. We've been spooling FTL. On our way, barring explodey death. Out."
Polaris: Boom. BOOM. Two more simultaneous explosions rock the very ground on which the pilots are standing — not to mention those demolitions Marines still plugging away while the slaughter commences behind them. And just like that, the doors fly open — to reveal a whole hell of a lot of blackness, the contents of which are hinted at by the overpowering smell of rotting bodies that now floods onto the battlefield.
Oh, and those missile-toting Cylons? They're moving into position, taking their sweet time to line up shots on Eidolon — and the supplies she carries in that Starboard Cargo Pod. How they knew the supplies were there instead of anywhere else on the ship is anybody's guess.
"You know what we need to make this frakking perfect," Allie yells to Sitka just before her second round is fired off. "We need to have a Basestar come and frakking fall on us. THAT would make this all frakking peachy, sir." Her luck is not with her and she's once more aiming but this time it's complicated by the sudden body-renching retch that hits her thanks to the stench. "What the…" Steeling herself, she takes several huge breaths in and out her mouth before trying for a third time. Which should be the charm, yesno?
Childless mothers have a lot of energy and grief to throw into their pursuits. Woe be the cylons for inflicting that title upon Dallas Covington. A spray of rounds erupts from her rifle, pinging off of armor, chewing up the ground around her targets, and slamming home in the chassis of a particularly shiny foe. "Take it like I paid you, poophead." Oh, yeah. The Petrel Louie is shit-talkin' again. She thumbs back to burst mode.
Sound hurts when it's loud enough. The physical sensation can be overpowering, battering a person without even 'touching' them. Daphne receives an auditory punch to the face as the shots force themselves past her, violently sending the air out of the way. She hefts another burst of riflefire at an oncoming cylon, shots tearing into it but good, this time. Between that and Tisiphone's direct hits, the Ensign should be satisfied as it crashes to the ground, a battered shell not unlike the one she's taken refuge behind, but there's not much time for that. She points her index finger at another Cylon. "That one!"
[TAC1] Polaris says, "Barto, Gunship — those missiles are starting to look mighty hot from this angle, sir. Figure they want to line this up good."
[TAC1] "Cobra Actual" Barto says, "Well take them out, Guns! Abbot'll eat your innards for an appetizer if you come home without us and that ship is our ticket out!"
Kulko looks over the Raptor's wing just long enough to watch his target drop with satisfaction, then ducks back and observes the door. His insides burble a bit at the stench, and he spends a few long moments looking between the bunker and the battlefield. He follows Lunair's rifle to her target and lines up a shot, then keys up his comm.
[TAC1] Kulko says, "Major! Got the door. Suggest a fighting retreat into the bunker."
"Nice, nice! Next to the left!" Tisiphone shouts without looking over toward Daphne. There's a moment of taut, humourless grin as her burst hits home; it widens as the Centurion topples, then splits into a disgusted grimace at the wave of death-stench. "Mother of-" She swallows thickly.
Lasher looks back just as the demo team finally breaks the door open; his nose wrinkles as the charnel smell from inside the building washes over him. He's got a fairly strong stomach, though — have you seen some of the things they eat on Aerilon? His last meal remains quite secure in his stomach as he levels his rifle for another shot. "Keep focusin' your fire!" he calls out. "Get these frakkers before their missle-totin' chums turn the whole bloody place into mulch," is muttered a few moments later as he squeezes the trigger.
"Shifting targets," Lunair points to Cen5 before Rojas gets lit up. She takes an offensive stance.
[TAC1] Polaris says, "Wilco. We'll cover you as long as we can, but I'm telling you what'll shred stuff faster than our missiles: those godsdamned Vipers."
TakkatakkatakkaBOOM. Yes, Rojas is making gunshot noises with his mouth as he opens fire on the tin-cans downrange, casting a glance at his smack-talking flight-buddy just before he's under fire again, hot lead grazing along his shoulder. "AWCRAPOW." Sounds about right. He ducks back down.
The Major looks back towards Kulko and then peeks around the burned out car at the oncoming Cylons. "DECK CREW! INSIDE!! ARM THE VIPERS AND GET THEM POWERED!"
Sitka's second attempt at plugging the seven foot marching machine of death full of hot lead is significantly more successful. Where the first few rounds tore a gash in its side, his subsequent shots wrench its head nearly clean off, and send it toppling into the asphalt in a pile of sparking wires and twisted steel. The adrenaline from the kill, such as it is, even masks for a moment the fact that he himself has been shot. It's the sensation of blood oozing and cooling from the open wound in his bicep that has him dropping down behind cover again, and dabbing at the gash in his sundered armour. The smell? He doesn't seem to notice at the moment. Focus. Rifle up. Shoot. "Gotta stay positive, Allie. Gotta stay positive…"
Alessandra blinks and nods while shifting targets quickly, her body still heaving from the smell. Good lords, why couldn't they prepare people for this in OCS?
"Try not ta die, possum," Dallas mutters, without glancing over to Rojas. She figures he'll let her know if he needs some help because of, say, gushing arterial spray. "I only got so many friends left."
Samuel fires off a burst, missing as he does, growling a bit as he doesn't hit anything. Grumbling more at the stench that comes in. "And our day just got better," he mutters, shaking his head as he prepares to fire another burst.
It happens. Stat. Damon, Bannik, and what other Deck volunteers dash into the bunker, their torches already lit and glowing as they try to cut through the dark.
Sitka adds to Alessandra, somewhere in the rattatattat of gunfire, "Got your friend, by the way. Think you're in the clear now."
Rojas pats his shoulder for blood. There's barely enough to worry a small child, so Dallas just gets a quick, slightly bloody thumbs-up. It's then the sight of Deckies rushing inside catches his eye. Dallas gets patted. Nathan gets shouty. "We're sittin' out here with our dicks in a stiff breeze! Y'gonna fly them shittin' things psychically?"
[TAC1] "Shiv" Sitka says, "Actual, permission for a few of us to assist with securing the facility and arming the vipers?"
[TAC1] "Cobra Actual" Barto says, "Copy! Take one pilot with you and I'll replace you on the line!"
Alessandra huffs for a second, cheeks billowing a bit. "Gods…oh, uh, hey, thanks. Remind me to kiss you for that later," she tries to joke with Shiv but she retches again, shoulders hunching forward as another wave of nausea hits. She pauses and adds, "I'll brush my teeth first, though, I promise."
"I've had worse," Shiv confides to the woman beside him, about to upend the contents of her stomach on the asphalt. Apparently not a sympathetic vomiter, the sounds of retching don't seem to trouble him one bit. He busies himself reloading his rifle while calling out to Tisiphone, "Apostolos, with me. Let's go." And, of course, he'll wait for a break in the fire to start moving.
Tisiphone's head snaps over toward Sitka when her name's called, wide eyes going wider. "But-" she starts to say, looking back to Daphne. The briefest of pauses to grab Daphne's shoulder for a second, before she's moving away, keeping her head down to follow after Sitka.
Daphne peers over at Tisiphone when her name is called, then nods. She shoots her a warning gaze. Like 'don't die'.
Kulko allows himself a momentary victory shout as two of his shots hit home, sending a second Centurion to the Big Recycling Facility in the Sky. Again he pops over the wing; again he squeezes off a burst. Getting to be somewhat of a routine.
Alessandra nods. "I'll keep that in mind for later," she calls out to Sitka. That's enouogh of the banter for now. Time to keep trying to put these frakkers to the ground.
"Got one on you," Lunair grunts, figuring the Cenarion just might be jealous of Kulko's dashing good looks. She turns her rifle on it. She's still in her offensive stance, trying to blast at the offending Cenarion. She grins, cheering for Kulko at the shout.
Samuel nods as the Centurion that was attacking him goes down, and moves for a new one. Moving out of cover for a better shot, now.
Daphne, de-Tisipbone'd for the moment, points her rifle at a centurion and just lets it go, shooting off another burst with a narrowing of her eyes. The thing crumples like a doll, which is good enough for her.
Polaris: The Heavy Raider — having just finished dispensing the last of those missile troopers — now turns its attention to the Raptor in question, whose own Colonial-issue missile just facecrushed one of the several Centurions charging forward like sentient fodder for the dug-in pilots' cannons. And as if to say that whatever Humans can do, Robots can do better, it launches a missile of its one at nearly point-blank range, one that slams into the soaring Raptor's cockpit before exploding between the pilot and ECO pair. The entire gunship goes up in flames, missiles and all — and then goes down in flames, thudding into the ground just a few meters behind the still-burning Eidolon. And those missiles, incidentally, are what those eight troops are lugging. They've only got one shot — but one gets the feeling that one shot will really, really count.
Lunair is going to stay and take potshots at Fatboy. She nods, "Good luck in there." She'll perhaps follow, but for now, Fatboy is in her sights.
"Everyone! Inside for cover!" Barto shouts it over the din of weapons fire before ducking around the side of the car she's been taking cover behind. The rifle comes up to her shoulder as she selects 'Burst' and takes aim at the cockpit.
Alessandra gets out a fresh clip and begins to reload. "I'm going inside," she shouts to Lasher. "See you on the flip side!" She is off then, running towards the bunker .
The first wave of Centurions is history, but the Colonials aren't out of trouble. Not by a long shot. Lasher screams a furious curse as the Heavy Raider takes down the Raptor with ease. His open palm smacks Daphne on the shoulder, to get her attention over the din. "Get to the bloody bunker! Will cover you!" He does just that, squeezing off a quick shot or two before he begins making his own way towards the cavernous bunker entrance. "All of you!" he shouts to the rest of the Colonial pilots. "Back to the bunker! Double time, godsdamn your hides!"
Samuel moves with the group going for those missile guys, hurrying after the pilots. Reloading for now.
The 'Yeeeeeeeeee-Haaaaaaaaaw!' that escapes Nathan's lips at the sight of the centurions falling is… Emphatic. Amazingly so. Clasping his hand onto Dallas' shoulder, the woman gets a little nod, or four, before he's giving a little tug on her outfit to get the lady moving. "I think it's time we go visit Shivers, doll." The pilot proceeds to 'Cheese it.'
Kai -does- move double time, even if she isn't part of the viper patrol. Skirting the perimeter, soon she's within the bunker, gun still sighting outside.
"Back, back inside," Kulko waves his CMC compatriots back towards the door as the first wave of Centurions goes down. "Raine, come on, now. No time." He drops his magazine and reaches to his belt for a fresh one, making at a crouch-run for closer cover and the door in a high-octane game of Frogger.
Daphne concentrates her fire on the next Centuron in the line. Tisiphone or no, she's still following the plan, walking her rifle across the line. This one takes shots from multiple angles, and the Ensign's rifle hits it square in the chest, full center body mass. At the sound of orders, she exhales, pulls her helmet tighter to her face, and runs in a crouch, rifle in hand while she reaches for another ammo cartridge.
Oh alright. Lunair pouts and follows, "Alright." She does seem happy once the cenarions fall. She skitters after the others.
"I'm comin', I'm comin'," Dallas mutters, before she's up and after Rojas, headed after the rest of the pilots. Reload!
The pilots retreat, and then the Marines — joining the deck crew who are already prepping birds for launch. Now it's just Major Bartholomew, standing in front with her rifle bared, alone against the Heavy Raider whose six turrets now turn to face her down. But before they have a chance to fire, a massive crack echoes in the air — it's a Raptor! Quinn's, to be precise, whose missiles are already armed and ready to fire. Just like that, Fat Boy turns, DRADIS seeking ever for that deadly missile lock…
Bartholomew snaps her attention at the bang and then back to the Raider as it begins its turn. She cracks open the radio frequency before opening fire and running from cover to get the Raider's attention.
[TAC1] "Cobra Actual" Barto says, "Raptor, this is actual! You've got a Heavy Bandit! 2 o'clock low! He's turnign to engage!"