PHD #295: EVENT - Pressure Points - Damage Control
Pressure Points - Damage Control
Summary: The Cylons hit the good ship Cerberus where it hurts.
Date: 18 Dec 2041 AE
Related Logs: Pressure Points - Air Wing
Cilusia Sofia NPC Hydra 
Battlestar Cerberus
Various damaged and burning locations.
Post-Holocaust Day: #295

It begins as these things usually begin. Flashes of light in Tauron space, followed by red contact upon red contact upon red contact lighting up the Fleet's DRADIS boards. The Cylons have come. Alarms sound. Condition 1 throughout the ship. Fighters in the air, action stations, guns at the ready. This should be old-hat for the Cerberus' technical personnel by now. Get the birds in the air, go-go-go. The last of the Alert Vipers is just spewing out of the tubes now, as the mechanics scramble to finish up that leg of their work. Stand by for damage control procedures now, in case the protection of the battlestar's planes isn't enough to keep the battlestar intact.

Sofia is back on deck! She's greeting her deck buddies and has a new rolling toolbox for some lucky knuckledragger. "Um, who - is -" She rattles a name off and peers around? She seems to be in a good mood, smiling a little here and there. Though she pauses as the call goes up and her eyes go wide. "Oh man." Condition 1! She looks a little more frantic, but stays lingering near the deckies.

Wrench? Check. Screwdrivers? Check. Orange jumpsuit loaded with a variety of other tools, elbow and knee pads, and helmet for deck operations? Check check and check. As the alarms sound, Cilusia is bustling about the deck helping to launch the Vipers into space, then to action stations. The prescribed station today? Hangar bay damage control, unless the call should go out elsewhere. Despite the tools she carries, more might be required: no more makeshifting bridge repairs. This time, she's going to be prepared. S'why she's loading up a toolbox with some commonly used parts and specialized tools.

"Wolfe?" A call from one of the senior POs on duty on the Deck, who spots Sofia. "You spend so much time down here you might as well transfer. Well, grab a kit. Fasi!" That holler to Cilusia. "When you're fixed get Wolfe one of our spare DC kits. Don't want anyone caught with their fly open."

And now it's hurry up and wait, and hope those specialized tools won't have to be put to use.

Eh? Sofia lifts her head, looking almost comically like a meerkat poking its head up. "Yeah?" Sofia pauses and smiles. Then a laugh. "Maybe. I might just have to do that," She considers. It's apparent she's not entirely opposed to the idea. She nods, "Grabbing one then." Sofia will help fetch a kit, or politely wait. She smiles at Cilusia. "Hey." She stops smiling though, after a bit- likely realizing what's going on. The hurry up and wait game.

"Let's just hope it's a lot more waiting that hurrying, honestly," Cilusia says in greeting to Sofia. The whole 'game' isn't lost on her; this isn't her first rodeo, dance, or whatever other analogy is fit for the situation. The DC kits are the big metal boxes of tools, fire extinguishers, flashlights, and variety of other gear that deckies have to wear if the situation allows. Not all of it down here, some of it spread throughout the ship and closer to points of vulnerability to make travel easier.

Wait, wait, wait. And that's all that comes to the Deck immediately. The signs of battle outside can be heard in the chatter over the aerial comms, which a PO listens to close on the wireless, and in subtly-felt but whale-like shifting movements of the battlestar herself as the Cerberus' Tactical personnel get the ship in position. The chatter of the wireless does not do much to decrease the tension any. More than a hundred Cylon contacts out there. DRADIS compromised. Possible basestar detected. Still, the technicians wait. No alarms yet, but they're ready nonetheless.

Wait and wait. Sofia takes a deep breath. She listens quietly, lingering near Cilusia. A look over. She offers quietly, "Would you noogie me much if I transferred?" A curious question, but tension makes words spill out like ivy set loose upon a church or a bowl of milk spilled onto a temple floor. She seems grateful for the tools at least and somewhat worried.

"Ain't much for me to say about it, really. That sort of shit's not my responsibility. We sure as hell could use more deckies though, especially for times like these." At the last sentence, Cilusia looks up towards the high ceilings of the cavernous bay. The number of contacts and the flow of information continue to leak from the comms, but so far, so good…in the sense that nothing's on fire yet inside the ship that needs to be put out, or any lines cut and sparking.

Wait, wait, wait…*LURCH*. The battlestar suddenly shudders and shifts with a force that might knock a few techies who were moving about off their feet. The hangar deck herself is still intact. No sign of damage here, beyond jostling of some of the equipment. Sirens are soon blaring, however, so it's obvious the rest of the ship wasn't so lucky. An urgent crackle comes over the comms. «This is Captain Gabrieli in Engineering. We need additional damage control teams to Deck Ten. Impact in one of our vents. Be advised, possible depressurization. Get your environmental suits on.»

"Yeah?" Sofia seems a bit hopeful at that. She does practically live on Deck after some consideration. A smile at that. She winces at the lurch and nearly falls flat. "Oh …" Her eyes go wide as her boss' voice comes over the comms. She nods though, and like a faithful dog will start to move unless stopped. There's a bit of worry on her expression, though, beneath it all. Work is a distraction and a release.

The ship lurching, shuddering, groaning as the frame bends and flexes to absorb the hits combine to send Cilusia, among others, to her butt with a whump. "Mother frakker," she exclaims as she hauls herself up, but whether it's to getting knocked down or the message over the comms, nobody will know. "Come on, let's roll. There's environmental suits closer to deck ten…those helmets get really uncomfortable really fast. No sense in getting them on before we absolutely gotta." With that, kit in hand, it's off to the stairs toward deck ten.

And it's time to go to work now. The corridors are a reasonably clear run for the DC team as they hustle their up toward Deck 10. Evacuation protocols are already in effect. And, given the fact that Sickbay is on that Deck, are proceeding in earnest. The corridors darken as they proceed, lighting down to minimal fucntioning, fire alarms blaring. "Suits on, fire control gear at ready!" a senior PO barks as they reach a point near Deck 10 where they can suit up. "Sounds like something hit the waste vents. Gotta get it under control before it spreads. That is some nasty kindling."

Fire …. control … Something his Sofia like a ton of bricks. Fire. SHe hesitates a moment, and shakes her head. "Yeah," She nods meekly at Cilusia. Off to Deck 10. But there's a sick, sinking feeling in her guts and the horrifying feeling of not knowing /why/. Some part of her memory destroyed, much as the body tends to cut off part of itself to save the whole. She takes a deep breath. Sickbay. She will grab gear as she can and needs to then. "Ugh, that is bad," She agrees quietly. Explosive poo gas indeed.

"Could've done without that today, that's for sure," Cilusia gripes as she makes for the DC locker there. Suits that look partly like flight suits in gaudy Dirk Diggler colors with scuba equipment on the back are hauled out and passed, tall and short alike climbing in and sealing with various degrees of suit stretching and puddling on account of the one size for all mentality. Suit, helmet, gloves, boots, the whole shebang, then it's off to the fire control stations to get the hoses dragged out.

The corridors are more crowded on Deck 10 proper as the team gets itself upped there. They have to contend with a mixture of speedily-evacuating personnel from the Navy Offices and medics rolling gurneys out of Sickbay, for those patients who aren't ambulatory enough to transport on their own. There's smoke in the air, not too heavy yet, but it'll become thicker as you move down the corridor. The waste vent is near the biochem lab, strategically positioned incase something goes Very Wrong with the biochem equipment and it needs to be spaced post-haste. Engineering teams, in suits near identical to the Deckies, are already moving into the vent.

Oof. Crowded. Sofia sidesteps a medic and a gurney. She winces, at the smoke. Memories - but not memories - why does this seem familiar? There's a sinking, ill feeling. Sofia stays near Cilusia, likely content to help the older Deckie as needed. "Here-" She winces. She spots her engineering buddies and seems somewhat relieved. but there's no time for it. Reflexes are kicking in and she'll start to find a routine.

If there's one 'advantage' to being small, it's that you can often be the first one selected for vent duty as it were. For the moment, Cilusia hangs around at the back of the crowd, helping to pass tools and whatnot forward when it's called for. "Looks like the fire's up in the vent, way in there. We're gonna need every foot of hose, I think!"

<FS3> Cilusia rolls Repair: Good Success.
<FS3> Sofia rolls Repair: Good Success.

Or the price of being small, as the case may be, for it does put the Cilusia up front and center as the they're thrust into the vents. Whatever hit the ship did so near enough to hear to have caused some serious damage. Fire suppression systems are frakked in the tight, mucky vent, flames licking their way up it and toward the corridor itself. The hoses are in place right when they need to be, however, and the techs know their business. If nothing else, they're buying Sickbay plenty of time to evac.

Sofia has at least one major disadvantage - being a little wide in at least one place. She winces, and does her best to help with work as she can. She helps move the hose along and minding any kinks so that water might flow. She winces at the conditions though. At least things seem to be buying time. "C'mon…"

"Push on my bootsoles, you sweaty frakkers! If you aren't going to climb up here, then at least put your damn backs into it!" Cilusia certainly has a particular way of encouraging them as they push her wiggling on her belly holding a hose nozzle into the vents in the corridor. It gets really hazy and really hot really quick, but she's waiting until she can see the glow of fire before pulling the handle on that hose to douse the interior of the vents with the chemical suppressant. "This is going to be a huge bitch to clean up when all's said and done," she gripes.

While whatever Cylon debris hit Cerberus did not puncture the hull, it came down close. Hull integrity readings in this area are at critical levels. But that, it turns out, is not the biggest worry on the tech's minds just now. As an engineer with a wireless tuned to CIC suddenly barks, "Birds are reporting a radiological alarm in this sector. Shit." And a glance at her environmental suit's radiation meter confirms it. There's something nuclear out there in that debris. Geiger counter equipment is blipping madly, and the radiation meter on your suits is going from black to red. Something is doing to blow.

[EMERGENCY] Hydra It is Captain Gabrieli's voice itself barking hastily over the wireless now, "Damage control teams, evacuate now. Prepare to seal off this corridor and depressurize deck. Move, move, move."

"Ah!" Sofia gets the news. Her eyes go wide at the radiation meter. Panic sends her heart beating. She shivers and starts backing out. "C'mon!" She'll take the hand of anyone slower than he rand help pull things along. There's an icky taste in her throat, fear tinging her tongue with metal. She'd happily bolt for it but - control the cowardice, move with the others.

It is Captain Gabrieli's voice itself barking hastily over the wireless now, "Damage control teams, evacuate now. Prepare to seal off this corridor and depressurize deck. Move, move, move."

<FS3> Cilusia rolls Repair: Great Success.
<FS3> Sofia rolls Repair: Success.

It's a mad scramble now to get the place prepared to seal, and get the frak out, before the thing blows. Some of the Engineering techs have to lag behind to make certain everything is sealed off. And, given the way the rad levels are climbing, they probably won't make it out before everything is locked down. The techs *do* get the deck ready to be sealed, however, and then it's go, go, go to get clear of this place before they're locked in.

That's never a good sign. Rather than pushing on her bootsoles, the alarm in Cilusia's voice is now more toward the "GET ME THE FRAK OUT OF HERE YOU FRAKKERS!" sort of of feel. Partly yanked out, partly wedging her hands against the interior of the vent and wiggling pushing herself out, Cilusia manages to tumble free. It's not more than an instant on her ass as she leaves the hose hanging from the vent before she starts to bolt for the door.

Sofia tries not to scream. Her feet fail her a moment. Left fights right. She blinks as Cilusia bolts and moves too. She uses the hose hanging from the vent to pull up and get scooting. "no!" Her engineering buddies. She's choking up again. No time to think - just move!

Move, move, move. Luckily, one of the departing engineers drags Sofia clear before the deck is closed off. The hatch seal's behind them, so they can only feel the massive BOOM that shakes the ship. Putting a large hole in that deck, no doubt, and spacing anyone who wasn't quick enough to get clear in time. But, somehow, the Cerberus herself is still here. If probably no longer as intact as before.

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