A Cubit Short - SAR
A Cubit Short - Salvage
Summary: Log Summary
Date: PHD134 (31 Aug 2009)
Related Logs: A Cubit Short - Air Wing A Cubit Short - Elpis & Other Cubit Short logs.
Players:
Legacy..Komnenos..Roubani..Kitty..Nigel..Batista..Mimieux..Barnabas..NPCs..

CEC Kharon, Hangar Deck, Hangar Bay 1
IC Time: Post Holocaust Day #134
OOC Time: Mon Aug 31 19:20:00 2009


There's activity here at almost every hour of the day. Impact guns can be heard with their shrieking rumble while crew call back and forth, their voices carrying just above the din of the work here. What's readily apparent is that this is the main Hangar Bay for the Vipers, the distance going back further than the other two Bays which are separated by thick, hydraulically rolled blast doors. On each side of the room, near the Fore end, six Viper tubes are ready for quick deployment of the Kharon's Viper squadron. Lining the rest of Hangar Bay One, each Mark Two and Mark Seven has its own place to be kept with a small red toolchest that holds the minimum of required equipment for quick maintenance.

Along the floor, each individual Viper bay is painted off with a single hashed yellow and black stripe. A deep red line denotes important electrical conduits and access ports just below the deck while a bright blue line follows up walls and across the floor to tell where the Tylium lines run in case of fire. Outlets along the wall for the fuel as well as corrugated rubber piping stand ready for use, fluorescent yellow firefighting gear kept in plain sight for easy access nearby.


The bustle on the Hangar Bay is pretty high since the jumping earlier, and the mission. Repair work is already hot and heavy on the vipers that took heavy hits, and there was a pretty hefty stream of raptor action herding the Elpis survivors, 32 in all, back to the belly of the Kharon.

Now the more dangerous mission commences. In the shadow of two seemingly destroyed basestars, a mission of 2 raptors is scheduled to go out to search the debris field for potential survivors, sifting the life pods and chunks of debris down to the quarters of the Bellerophon, and the space dust of some of the more unfortunate members of the civvie fleet.

2 Raptors, 2 Pilots, 2 ECOs, 2 Snipes.

Nigel, of course, pretty much insisted on being allowed to go. After all, it was his damn ship for four years and he's going to be the one to send this old girl to her grave. Yeah.

And Thea, of course, is ready to go back out again. She's in her flight suit, helmet under her arm, checklist in hand as she does her pre-flight.

Still shaken by the other night's events, Kitty finds herself back in her flightsuit despite the fact that she's not really wanting to get back into a Raptor. The chaos is a welcome distraction from her worries as she is now watching the crew do their job while she waits for the 'fun' to begin.

Komnenos is here too, ready for another round. Helmet in one hand, clipboard in the other, he leans against his Raptor's wing as he works silently on his checklist.

Wearing one of those not-so-spiffy white EVA suits (aka Marshmallow Suits to those who've had to run in them, YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE), Roubani arrives on the flight deck as a couple other snipes get some necessary equipment loaded into the Raptor. He has a name to figure out, and the one unfamiliar face is probably that man. "Petty Officer Milius?"

Fresh from sickbay, and still sporting a bandaged-up hand as well as gauze taped to a head injury he no doubt sustained from his viper breaking apart, the CAG heads up the stairs and strides through the hangar bay. No rest for the weary, it seems; he's carrying a clipboard with a few hastily-scrawled notes for what promises to be an even hastier mission briefing.

Oh yeah. Did we mention that Petty Officer STA-PUFT is also geared for fun-filled space walk duty? Helmet's not affixed, yet, but other than that, his large, square head pokes out of the neck seal and cranes around to blink as Roubani addresses him. "That's me." He drawls, getting a closer look at the man with a blink of his eyes. He amends, "Sir."

"Thorn," Thea calls quietly. "You're with me." As if he didn't already know that. "We're going to be going out into some shitty soup. You up for this?" The Captain studies the ECO, head canted slightly to the side.

After checking off the pre-flight material, Lieutenant JG Dorothy "Ciggie" Parker turns from the Foxbat to glance toward her ECO for the day. "You ready to go, rook?" She reaches up to secure the collar on her own flight suit before she reaches for her flight helmet. "I brought the barf bags if you think you might need one. We're looking at a lot of civviecicles."

Roubani nods slightly to the blond PO. "Lieutenant Junior Grade Roubani." After a slightly clunky second he adds, awkwardly, "Welcome aboard." His dark eyes glance at Thea and then Kai as the CAG shows on deck, and he turns to face that way with a formal straightening of shoulders. There's a salute towards both Captains, even if it's pretty damn annoying to do in a puffsuit.

Thorn scrawls his name into the signature box of the checklist just as Thea addresses him. He looks up at the Raptor captain, a masklike expression on his face as he shoves the clipboard into the hands of the nearest deckhand. "The day I'm not is th' day you bury me, sir," he replies. "Ready t' go."

Kai is afforded a wide berth by most of the deck crew, who probably know better than to get in the Captain's way when he's warpathing. Which, with the look on his face at the moment? Yeah, he's definitely warpathing. "All right — " His clipboard's smacked against the nose of a viper he passes. It's currently being swarmed by no less than three mechanics in orange coveralls, blowtorches sparking as they rip off a few key components of the undercarriage and start fusing new pieces in place. " — listen up. We've got a hell of a mess out there, and it isn't going to be pretty. I need one engineer in each raptor, everyone in EVA suits — check your hardseals and oxygen, life support's probably shot to shit over there — and a standard repair and winch loadout on each boat. This is a salvage mission, though you'll be keeping an eye out for any fucntional life pods. Any questions?"

"Well, Lieutenant." Nigel calls forth in an accent that sounds slightly backcountry. "Guess you're my new lord and master. It's a pleasure." And -then- there's a salute. "Guess this job won't be though." He smiles a tight, if humorless smile and lumbers around towards the area where the Raptors are parked, eyeing the rides.

Nigel immediately turns on his heels thereafter and salutes the CAG, silently. Indicating. No. No questions.

Kitty looks up at her pilot and nods "I'm ready. And…might want to keep those close by, yeah." She doesn't like having to confess to possibly needing barf bags but she'd rather have them just in case and not make a mess of things and than not have them and have to clean up after herself. She listens once the briefing starts.

LtJG Parker, 'Ciggie' to her friends, turns to face the CAG as he barrels in with his usual warpath style. The raptor driver nods sharply to the mission parameters. "Can I have the fat one, sir? He looks like he tells good tales." She's referring, of course, to poor Nigel. Parker likes her tales. And recipes. Maybe she's thinking he has some.

Thea pulls up to a salute after she hears that Kai's on deck, then nods when he gives the orders. Clearly, she's got no questions. She's ready to go, it would appear. But then there's Parker. Her throat clears, quietly.

"No, sir," Roubani replies to the questions question, his voice kept low and even. He doesn't move until they're given signal to break though, nor does he say anything else as to the arrangements.

"No sir," Kitty echoes.

Thorn, too, is his usual questionless self. He simply stands next to the Raptor, folding his arms and waiting for the CAG to finish speaking. His helmet taps against his side, almost impatiently.

Nigel's head rolls lazily to eye Ciggie. He's all smiles. There's something distinctly creepy about this particular smile. Maybe it's just the context. "Oh, I got stories, Sir." Without further ado, he begins to affix his helmet, checks seals, etc, blah blah blah.

"Yes, Parker, you can have the fat one. But if he breaks your fingers for calling him fat, both of your asses are mine." It's spoken pretty drily; the CAG does not look up from his clipboard. He wipes his good hand off on the thigh of his flight suit— sweaty, maybe? "All right, if there aren't any more questions, then gods' speed and good hunting. Black Cat's the best we've got, she'll bring you back safe."

Ciggie's eyes stray from the CAG to briefly fix on the snipe in question. Her chin draws down just a little, at the look he gives her. At the intonation of asses, her eye snap back to Captain Marek. "Yessir." Her eyes flick to the raptor Captain then, she grins, and then before she secures her helmet, she looks askance at Nigel. One eye on the snipe at all times!

Roubani, apparently and aptly 'the skinny one' on the snipe side of the operation, turns away as Kai finishes. "Milius. Stay in contact with your status. I shall see you on the other side." Whether that means the black of space, the deck of the Bellerophon, or back here at safety, who knows at this point.

"Looks like you're mine, Roubani," Thorn's walking slowly around the Raptor as the CAG finishes, and he creeps up on Roubani with a wry little smile as the younger man turns away from the unfamiliar enlisted snipe. "Ready?"

Thea looks over at Kai, apparently trying to catch his eye, and offers both a smile and a salute. "Alright people, you heard the CAG. Mount up and let's get out there. Poet, Thorn, load up."

"These things add twenty kilos." Nigel finally huffs from behind the helmet's canopy as he pats his EVA suit, grunting as it's firmly in place. He looks in askance towards Roubani and nods his head, simply. "Aye, sir. If y'all get lost on board the Bell,, give me a shout." He lumbers over towards the assigned Raptor and climbs aboard. Only having done so, does he finally let out a heavy sigh, some of the affected good humor fleeing him. For him, this is probably like gravedigging.

Parker steps up on the wind of her raptor, and patpats the side of it as she passes through the hatch to take up her position in the front seat. "Let's get 'er done, Crybaby. Hey, Cornbread, shake a leg. We got a special comfy seat for you in the back." She straps in and leaves her ECO to tuck in the snipe and close the doors.

Parker steps up on the wing of her raptor, and patpats the side of it as she passes through the hatch to take up her position in the front seat. "Let's get 'er done, Crybaby. Hey, Cornbread, shake a leg. We got a special comfy seat for you in the back." She straps in and leaves her ECO to tuck in the snipe and close the doors.

Kai meets Thea's eyes when she looks over, and flickers a small smile. The salute's returned, the man lingers a moment, then turns to head briskly off the deck. His watch is checked as he strides away; places to go, people to answer to.

Roubani nods to Thorn, not quite smiling at the ECO. To Thea he says simply, "Yes, sir," and then heads for the designated Raptor while running his check on his suit. Zips, seals, air. Awesome.

Kitty looks at the guy flying with them and she raises a brow, shaking her head. "Come on. Get in." She's not very polite and probably will feel like a metric ton of crap over being abrupt with him but right now she's in a hurry to get the DRADIS up and give everything on her end one last looksee before they take off.

Foxbat-7


Squat and boxy, the Raptor is a utilitarian shuttlecraft. Intended mainly for passenger transport, it has very little room for cargo. A hydraulic hatch over the port wing allows entry, although there is also a docking skirt underneath the ship that can connect to airlocks on other vessels. Aft of the pressurised flight deck and crew area are the engines. Winglets either side of the hull help to give stability during atmospheric maneuvers and have landing thrusters mounted under them, which may use vectored thrust from the main sublight engines.

The Raptor is fairly cramped quarters. A hydraulic hatch over the port wing allows entry, opening into the main body. A bench runs along each side of the ship, with seats and harnesses for eight passengers. The cockpit area at the front contains side-by-side seats for the pilot and co-pilot, along with banks of displays and controls for the avionics and sensors. A large canopy provides good forward and side visibility for the crew.


"Right." Thorn's helmet is donned, the seals clicking into place with a reassuring hiss. With that, he ducks into the open hatch of the nearby Raptor. He takes his customary position in the back seat and immediately begins preparing for launch.

In response, Nigel simply drawls as he settles in, checking his suit one last time. "I hate cornbread." There's a pause. Ciggie got her wish. "I used to serve with this guy when I was groundside. Sergeant Long. Apparently he was some kinda spec-ops badass — Did SERE training an' all that. Well, he had this recipe that he shared.."

Ciggie straps in and checks her seals, going through the final systems check to be sure all the boards are green. She glances back, then grins, as Nigel's voice comes over the earpiece, and she nods. "Crybaby-baby, it was a mess out there last night. I don't know it DRADIS is going to give us much help, but scanning for heat signatures might. Just do a full spectrum right up the center and we'll come across something." Parker doesn't usually talk this much, and it's the only indication she might be feeling a little apprehensive about flying through the field of corpses.

[Into the Wireless] LtJG Dorothy "Ciggie" Parker's voice comes over comms, "Black Cat, Ciggie. Ready for launch on your go."

[TAC3] "Black Cat" Legacy says, "Roger, Ciggie. When we launch, you're going to take Starboard, we'll take Port. Running standard grid search pattern from here to Bellerphon."

[Into the Wireless] "Ciggie" Parker says, "Copy that, Black Cat. Mark one eyeball."

The story about cornbread, SERE training, and badasses drops. as Nigel continues."Wonder whatever happened to Long. Muddy, n' all those guys. Heh." Turning introspective, he offers up, "Th' Bell got some lifepods out of her, Sir. There's no tellin' what we might find. Maybe Clark n' Skipper made it. Those girls were too frakkin' mean to die."

[TAC3] "Black Cat" Legacy says, "CIC, Black Cat. Two Foxbats ready to take off on your clearance."

"Alright…" Once given her instructions the setting adjustments are made, the DRADIS soon tuned so that it can do exactly what Ciggie wants, that being a fairly focused beam that scans for multiple things with heat being what she'll keep an eye out for the most.

"If they're alive out there, Blonde Ambition," The LtJG is just full of all kinds of questionable nicknames, "We'll find them. A prayer would not go amiss." She puts her hand on the throttle, and awaits the order to punch it. "Hey, I heard this really shitty joke down in Sickbay last night, when I was checking on our airy brethren…"

[Into the Wireless] An anonymous sort of comms operator up in CIC replies, "Black Cat, Kharon. You are clear for launch. Good hunting."

"Th' Bull watches out for the brave." Nigel says, weightily. "Even some of those civilians we saw when I was over on the Elpis. They didn' go out like punks, I'll give 'em that. Somehing to be said. I'm just glad you people came out of nowhere, Sir." He pauses a bit, backtracking. "How'd it go? It wasn't 'what has one eye and six shells in its neck,' was it? Because I wrote that punchline last night w' Major Cass, that little girl we picked up on tour a year ago and a bunch of your marines?"

Kitty frowns at the back of Ciggie's head, not appreciating the use of the phrase 'airy brethern'. Even though she doesn't approve she makes a soft 'hmmm?' sound that is meant as a 'oh, go on', even if she isn't really listening to the banter.

[Foxbat-7: Nemesis] Foxbat-7 putputs out of the Kharon's bay. Ciggie is a fairly sedate stick, or maybe it has something to do with the gruesome scene still painted before them, which is amply visible through the crystal clear viewport of the raptors.

Space. Still full of horrific debris and bodies. The scene from earlier hasn't much changed, except now it contains even more raider mess, bits of the various ships destroyed in the mission last night floating about like some sort of gruesome modern art piece about blenders and the war machine. Now with 95 percent more human corpses, or, as Ciggie likes to call them: Civviecicles.

The space nearest the CEC Kharon is fairly clear, but on approach to the Bell, it's just a mess. Chunks and bits, mechanical, cylon, Colonial, and fleshy frozen things are all the rage today, leaving the pilots with no choice by to tiptoe through the tulips and do their level best not to bank through too many corpses. Inevitably, debris bounce off of the raptors.

The field is so loaded that DRADIS is questionable, but other systems may be useful, such as heat signatures. Contacts blend into one another, and the only real sure way is the old mark one eyeball.

[TAC3] "Black Cat" Legacy says, "Ciggie, Crybaby, Black Cat. Keep your eyes peeled out here. It's like flying through a bowl of vegetable soup. Sing out if you find something."

Craning his head out of the Raptor's glowing rear passenger area, Nigel squints out of the helmet of his EVA suit to get a better look. It ain't pretty, folks. Even he's shut up, now.

[Foxbat-4: Legacy] Thea's raptor follows behind Ciggie's on the way out, cutting off to the other side slowly and carefully. There's no rush tonight - at least, not that anyone's aware of. The Civvicicles aren't going to thaw and no one's dinner's going to get hot if the Raptors take their time.

[TAC3] "Thorn" Komnenos says, "All ships, Thorn. I've got an intermittent DRADIS contact, coming from somewhere off the Bellerophon's port bow. Can't isolate, though." *pause* "Y' see anything over there, Crybaby?"

Finally, Nigel breaks his little self-imposed silence as he wonders aloud, "Don't suppose they're gonna have us tear through that Toaster wreck, either. I kinda think you folks deserve a piece of that base ship mounted on the Kharon's bow as a souvenir. I'll even tie the damn thing on myself."

[Foxbat-4: Legacy] Ahhh, space. The final frontier. Definitely the final frontier, or the last frontier, for some of the bodies delicately gliding through. See, there's one right there! Looks like the remains of a pilot - sans helmet, and head - drifting into the remains of a raider, as if engaged in a post-mortem fight. Some people never give up, even after death. Another body bounces lightly off the side of the Raptor making a quiet ponging sound. Pings are reserved for the metal. And still Thea's bird continues to move through the makeshift graveyard, turning slightly toward a certain direction.

[TAC3] "Crybaby" Kitty says, "Yeah, I got something Thorn but it's on the starboard. Can't really make out any details, though. Might need to get closer before we can make heads or tails of it all."

[TAC3] "Black Cat" Legacy says, "Ciggie, Black Cat. Take it in toward what your ECO found. If the debris field is too thick, see if you can go at it from behind."

[Into the Wireless] "Ciggie" Parker replies over comms, "Copy. Black Cat. Swinging wide starboard to take a closer look at our contact. Engaging in frat boy approach."

[TAC3] "Thorn" Komnenos says, "What's that, Ciggie… fat, dumb, and drunk?"

[Into the Wireless] "Ciggie" Parker says, "If only, Thorn. If only."

Nigel just coughs behind his helmet.

Maybe somebody just called out his M.O.

"What was that, Cherry Pie?" Parker intones from the driver seat. Must have heard that cough.

[Foxbat-7: Nemesis] Fox-7 continues on its careful path, course altering slightly to bring it more starboard after input from the ECO is received, on a more or less intercept course with the fore section of what used to be the Battlestar Bellerophon. This is, of course, the side nearer the ruined basestars. One might say it will bring the small raptor directly into their shadow. Uncomfortaaaaaaable.

The musical smattering of debris across the hull is soft, almost musical. It's like a gentle rain, except… tinny. The way is littered with debris, and more than a few times thrusters are engaged to maneuver suddenly, but smoothly. The approach other side is much the same. There's a lot of mess to bounce. ETA to respective targets is about two minutes under current conditions.

"Nuthin, Sirs. I was just reminded of somethin'." Nigel calls out. Before something happens(tm).

[Foxbat-4: Legacy] Fox-4 is mirroring Fox-7's path, slithering through the debris field, getting hit on more than a blonde who knows who Gandolf is at a Sci-Fi convention. Only a couple bodies get hit with the raptor. What? Try driving through the body field and see how many get missed. The Foxbat pulls up slowly in front of what appears to be, of all things, a life pod - one that's venting slowly.

[Foxbat-7: Nemesis] Ciggie is too busy looking at a corpse that just bounced off the view port to notice a large piece of debris that turns lazily, and scrapes over the side of the raptor with a heavy grrrrrrrrrrrrrscrreeeeeeap noise.

[Into the Wireless] "Ciggie" Parker grunts, "Frak me, paint job."

[TAC3] "Black Cat" Legacy says, "Kharon CIC, Black Cat. Looks like we've got a life pod out here. It's venting slowly. Preparing to attempt recovery. Unknown on survivors."

[TAC3] "Crybaby" Kitty says, "I'm having problems gettig a good lock on it's position. It looks like we're close but that's about all I can make out. Thorn, are you having any better luck, buddy?"

[TAC3] "Thorn" Komnenos says, "Not really, Crybaby. We're pretty close — but there's so much floating drek clouding up my DRADIS, I can barely isolate anything.""

Nigel pipes up, suddenly leaning out of the passenger area again as he points. "Yeah. Looks like that thing's still on. It's rammed in there like a…" For whatever reason, the engineer decides not to run with that metaphor.

Kitty leans over as much as she can while strapped in, trying to see what Nigel does from his angle. "We might need you to walk us in. Keep an eye out, okay?"

[Foxbat-4: Legacy] Foxbat-4 comes closer to the metal pod that's causing so much excitement, pulling up alongside so that its passenger can get out and perform spacewalk magic. Thea's expression, behind her helmet's faceplate, is a touch tense.

"Uh-huh. That's what I signed up for, Sir." Nigel says, briskly. "Well, not this part. But my mom always said that the ass is part o' the hot dog too." Charming. He starts up from his seat.

Ciggie jumps a little in her seat, eyes swinging around to eyeball the floaty remains Nigel indicates. Wait. Not remains. She leans forward a little in her seat, and, "What the frak."

[Into the Wireless] "Ciggie" Parker says, "Kharon, we've got a … life pod with raider collision here, and it looks like it has power. Sending the tubby snipe out to investigate."

Also, at the sound of 'tubby,' when her back is turned it's a good thing that Ciggie can't see the silent 'kiss kiss' face made towards the pilot on the part of the Snipe. It's pretty godsawful disturbing. He meanders over towards the airlock mere seconds after.

Ciggie glances back, "Crybaby, eyes peeled on the DRADIS. I hate it when someone sneaks up on my ass when I've got my hatch open and my fatboy floating." She is just the most charming kid in the crate, yeah?

Kitty checks the seals on her helmet before she nods, making sure she's not going to lose air once the hatch is opened. So far so good, Ciggie. Going to widen the sweep a bit, make sure nothing gets the better of us.

[Foxbat-4: Legacy] Foxbat-4 swings around slightly, the floodlight turning on the little pod, the hatch lining up to make the engineer's job easier. It's kind of like watching something hold still during a space debris ballet, honestly. Something is out of place, and that something is likely the Raptor.

[TAC3] Nigel crackles, wryly over the comms."I'll be sure to put on a good show for the money, Lieutenant." A pause. "Foxbats, Petty Officer Milius. Exitin' the hatch to go sift through the ashes, over."

[Into the Wireless] Nigel crackles, wryly over the comms."I'll be sure to put on a good show for the money, Lieutenant." A pause. "Foxbats, Petty Officer Milius. Exitin' the hatch to go sift through the ashes, over."

[TAC3] (from Nemesis) "Ciggie" Parker says, "Don't forget to tie off, Stay Puft. I don't wanna play pyramid with the debris today. Too many bodies on the field."

[Into the Wireless] "Ciggie" Parker says, "Don't forget to tie off, Stay Puft. I don't wanna play pyramid with the debris today. Too many bodies on the field."

[TAC3] "Crybaby" Kitty says, "Hey Thorn, I'm going to be widening our DRADIS' scan range, make sure we don't get ambushed while we have our pants down around our ankles. I might lose contact with the lifepod so can you keep an eye out on it for us, please?"

[TAC3] "Thorn" Komnenos says, "Copy, Crybaby. Minding the store."

[TAC3] "Poet" Roubani says, "Black Cat, Poet. I have contact, checking it over now. And Thorn, I expect treats."

[TAC3] "Thorn" Komnenos says, "You'll have t' do a trick first, Poet."

[TAC3] "Poet" Roubani says, "I don't need you fainting at the helm, Thorn."

[TAC3] "Black Cat" Legacy says, "Poet, Black Cat. Copy. And if you leave a present on the deck, make sure to leave it in his boots, not mine. I don't do hairballs."

[TAC3] "Thorn" Komnenos says, "You do it, Roubani, you're cleaning it up. With your tongue."

On cue, Foxbat-7's hatch pops open as a trace venting of O2 occurs. After securing his tether, an EVA-suited Nigel slips on out, pausing with a strange undulation. Maybe he's getting used to being out in a vacuum. Or maybe he's staying true to his word for Ciggie. What's a buttshake in space look like, anyway

P.O. Milius then starts to jump on out with a kick once secure, in time with his altogether classier and officer-like Engineering counterpart.

Kitty waits for Thorn's reply before doing it, the DRADIS' range broadened. "Alright. Hopefully we will know if we get company before company knows we're home."

[TAC3] "Poet" Roubani actually says it, yes. Drily. "Gosh."

[TAC3] "Thorn" Komnenos says, "No one fraks with my boots, bro."

[TAC3] "Black Cat" Legacy says, "Thorn? Remember who's got the keys to the house here. You make Poet do that, then you're going after it. With YOUR tongue."

[TAC3] "Thorn" Komnenos says, "Black Cat, I'm not sure if I want t' do anything for you that involves my tongue."

[TAC3] "Poet" Roubani says, "Black Cat, Poet. The leak is a small one. Estimated time for repair…five minutes."

[TAC3] "Black Cat" Legacy says, "Thorn, you may not get a choice. Poet, copy. Can you tell anything from where you are? Hear any noises inside? Anything?"

Really. You can totally hear the Colonial equivalent of a Strauss waltz as the puffy-suited men do their thing. drifting on out to a seperate section of the wreck, but still within visual scan range of Roubani, Nigel latches on and starts leaning forwards in the vaccum to study the thing, getting down to business.

Ciggie turns full around in her chair to watch Nigel do his thing, and then she glances back at Kitty. "How's the field looking, Crybaby? We got anything suspicious happening?"

[TAC3] Nigel says, "Raptors, uh, this is Milius. We need t' be careful with this mess. If we just pull the Raider out, th'damn thing's going to vent. Frak, this is like the Majors County Fair. Only without the Paulson boys."

Kitty says, "So far so good, Ciggie. Nothing's getting picked up but am still keeping an eye out."

[Into the Wireless] "Ciggie" Parker says, "You figure you can hook a line on it while you're out there, Space Biscuit?"

[TAC3] "Poet" Roubani says, "Black Cat, Poet. This one looks like it's got some fire damage…shrapnel here. I'm trying for visual contact now."

[TAC3] "Black Cat" Legacy says, "Roger, Poet. Once you're clear, we'll deploy tow ropes and get it home. Ciggie, how are you holding up over there?"

[TAC3] "Poet" Roubani says, "Copy that, Black Cat." There's a couple seconds of pause, then he speaks quickly. "Confirmed occupants…I can see four from here. Possibly more. None conscious."

Working before spaking, Nigel starts ambling up the side of the life pod after bracing himself against it with his legs. He starts fumbling with the tow line and starts to securely attach the cable in true, brisk, sailor-like fashion. As he does so he climbs a bit to get leverage. One can see him pointing at the viewport on the pod.

[TAC3] "Black Cat" Legacy says, "Roger, Poet. Get your ass back on the Raptor so we can get this pod home."

"Sounds good, 'Baby." Ciggie glances back at the ECO, then looks out the viewport to watch Nigel puffy flail at the raider-pod amalgam. "I wonder what kind of crazy it takes for a man to willingly become a mechanic, and then one who space walks."

[TAC3] "Poet" Roubani says, "Black Cat, Poet. Copy. I could put a seal on it and cut through to check for vitals, though that would take more time out here. Another six minutes, approximately."

Kitty laughs. "The kind of mechanic who has bigger balls than I do." She listens to the comms and smiles a bit more, looking relieved. "Sounds like we did good, huh?"

[TAC3] Nigel says, "Milius here. Second that. There's folks inside. They look all beat to shit, though. Uhh. We might be able to make a hard seal and drop some of our baggage which would be a faster tow."

[TAC3] "Black Cat" Legacy says, "Poet, Black Cat. If you think you can cut in and get them out safely, let's take that route."

[TAC3] "Crybaby" Kitty says, "We're still in the all clear so if you think it's necessary we should have time."

[Into the Wireless] "Ciggie" Parker says, "Black Cat, copy. Establishing hard seal and grabbing the cargo. It's your show, snipes. Crybaby, when he's through, help him with the passengers."

[TAC3] "Poet" Roubani says, "Negative, sir. They're unconscious and may be injured; I would rather not risk further injury by attempting to move them all. Recommend full tow."

Petty Officer Balls of Tungsten and Blood o' Tylium just cranes his head over towards the Officer on duty out in the void. It's good to be in charge. Good for someone else to be, anyway. In his mindset.

[TAC3] "Black Cat" Legacy says, "Poet, Black Cat. They're going to risk even more injury if I have to tow them. If you're -sure-, we can set up the tow. But I want you absolutely sure you'd cause more injury by moving them than if we towed them. If they're on board the Raptor, we can get them home faster."

[TAC3] "Poet" Roubani says, "Noted, sir. We'll cut through."

Getting the call, Nigel busts out some industrial, daresay -military-grade- power tools. The kind that his dad probably got unreasonably excited about, daydreamed about while taking long trips to the hardware store when he was a kid. Cutting torch, indeed, FTW.

[TAC3] Nigel simply rumbles, "Let's get a rope and an acetylene torch on this beast."

[Into the Wireless] "Ciggie" Parker says, "Watching you work, we'll keep it steady. Drag in the live ones, let us know if you need extra hands."

[Foxbat-7: Nemesis] Fox-7 sits quietly pressed close to the hull of the life pod, with a seal in the progress of being made, and a snipe cutting through the pod's hull to go after the fruity filling. The pilot keeps a weather eye for any uppity debris, but everything seems to be more or less floating in its own space.

The hull of the life pod Nigel cuts through isn't as thick as other hulls the snipe has probably worked with before. Life pods, while handy in situations such as enemy engagements, are meant for emergency fleeing, not protection from missiles and fire. The job is easy going, and with a hard seal in place, should be up and running in just a couple of minutes.

Foom. Fzzt. Pow. Zing. Zot. Plotz. Nigel's in the happiest place he knows. That's destroying a piece of machinery for a good cause. That being said, if one were to be able to see his face right now, he ain't happy. The torch slices through the thin skin of the pod like a hot knife through butter. Butter with the texture of a cheap beer can.

[Foxbat-4: Legacy] Foxbat-4 maintains its careful hover not too far from Roubani. Gotta love being the anchor point! Really!

Sparks fly. Metal melts. And brother, Nigel breaks things. Shifting a little to study Roubani's status, he gives his erstwhile Engineering boss a thumbs-up indicating progress according to plan on his end.

[TAC3] "Poet" Roubani says, "Black Cat, Poet. Pod's ready. Milius, status over there?"

[TAC3] "Black Cat" Legacy says, "Roger Poet. Get them on board. Do you need an extra set of hands?"

There's some more cutting as Nigel continues his handywork, and it's a good thing the light of the torch is reflected in the glossy expanse of helmet. That's the last face you'd want to see when waking up. Yep. His end of the work is completed, apparently.

[TAC3] Nigel says, "All's well on this end, Sir."

Waking up. That's a good way to put it. Really, it is. One of the bodies in Nigel's pod begins to stir slightly, but whomever it is doesn't wake up. It's a Colonial Military uniform, clearly, but dirty as hell. And there's a rifle in the figures hands. Hard to tell details since whomever it is is curled up, bonelessly, around the rifle. A slight shift, though, has her falling back slightly, to her back, revealing the delicate features of a woman. Mimieux' eyes are closed.

The section of hull thunks down, and reveals inside the pod: A slight blonde, in a civvie issue flightsuit, is inside Nigel's pod with the hand of an unconscious and bleeding redheaded male in hers. Eyes wide, she just stares at the hull, with a firearm clutched in her lap. Her finger is on the trigger guard, but the small Viktor CP1 9mm semi-auto is not raised or pointed. A small forehead laceration bleeds into one eye. It's been a really, really long day. Batista just says, "… Holy crap, demon torch wielding bubble man nightmares!" A long pause follows and she peers at Nigel. "You're not a low oxygen induced hallucination, right?" There's another woman alive, and then two people who've bled out. An unfortunate couple who look like they ate some live fire prior to boarding.

[TAC3] "Poet" Roubani says, "Copy, Milius. Black Cat, checking vitals now. Oxygen's just about gone…I've got only one alive, sir. Might need some help getting his shoulders up out of here. Has Thorn got a hand free?"

[TAC3] "Black Cat" Legacy says, "Sending Thorn to you, Poet."

[TAC3] "Thorn" Komnenos says, "On th' way, Poet."

[TAC3] Nigel says, "Copy the Lieutenant. We got people!"

[Into the Wireless] "Ciggie" Parker says, "Grab the live ones and let's get 'em loaded. There's a blonde civviesicle staring at me and I think the eyes are following me. This place gives me the creeps."

[TAC3] "Black Cat" Legacy says, "Ciggie? Let's have just a little bit of respect for the dead please. Get the live ones and tags on those who've passed."

Upon inspecting his handiwork, Nigel, having made it inside the pod, slowly bounds forth and cranes his head, scanning the grisly scene. Whoah, we got a live one! Affixing a bit of a stare to Batista's head, he taps the faceplate of his helmet, swinging his fingers in an arc in the shape of a smile. Aw. How cute. He shifts to inxpect the downed, injured redhead and the unconscious woman a moment later. He gestures towards the conscious woman and then the unconsious woman, shrugging. "Can you move?" Just in case sound travels enough for her to hear.

[TAC3] "Poet" Roubani says, "Black Cat, Poet. Thorn's got him…getting the tags from the others now."

[TAC3] Nigel says, "We've got one woman, live and conscious. One female who's — out but stirring. And she's with a male who's bleeding. Two dead. This ain't pretty, folks. Gonna need a hand here, maybe?"

Bat reaches down, and shoves her small semi-auto into the pocket of her flight suit. Okay, a bubble mane drawing a smiley on his own face is ok. Unless it was a throat slitting maneuver, then that's sort of less ok. "Yeah, he's a lightweight." She bends to pick up the redhead in a fireman's carry, in a hurry to GTFO ASAP. She hefts the man with a grunt, makes it about two steps, and then almost falls over, dropping him with a thud. "…" She looks to Nigel. "His ass is a lot heavier when I'm not running for my life from giant killer robots."

Mimieux remains where she is, out. Unconscious. Rifle in her arms. Her face is pale, though her breathing is steady. Something's knocked her out, though it's hard to be certain what it was.

"Well, that's one. Here. Gonna need a bit of haulin' for the lady." With a point to Mimieux. "I got the big guy, here. Had to carry people like this before in the old days." Nigel says, gruffly. He -otherwise- sounds friendly enough.

Batista jerks a thumb over her shoulder. "I'll get her. You get red." She also points from Nigel to the man, and from herself to Mims. And then she turns to fetch the woman. That's… somewhat an easier carry. Yeah, definitely. "Okay." Same page, go! "Faster is better. I already need therapy." And then she hauls Mimieux into her arms, and makes with the shuffle-dragging toward the seal, and through into the raptor.

[Foxbat-4: Legacy] Thea's Foxbat remains in the hovering position while one person is loaded on and Roubani takes care of the tags from the other. Tension seems to pervade the Raptor.

[Foxbat-7: Nemesis] Fox-7 mirrors Fox-4s position, waiting for its precious cargo.

"Y'all didn't pack a liquor cabinet in this thing? Speakin' o" *OOF* "Therapy." Nigel grunts as he starts hauling the wounded man on through the seal. He hefts the guy with a bit o' a grunt, throwing him over his shoulder with all the delicacy one could possibly hope for.

[TAC3] "Poet" Roubani says, "Milius, how is it going over there?"

Kitty looks over her shoulder from where she sits at the ECO seat, her eyes wide with shock. Nothing's said but her face says it all, the fact that there are any survivors is a miracle not lost on her.

[TAC3] Nigel says, "Milius here. Two lovely ladies. One's on her feet n' doesn't look too bad. One's out. She's in uniform. Awake one's a pilot of some kind. An' we got this poor fellow here bleedin' like a pig. Two dead. It's your call if you want to retrieve the bodies. Hafta make another trip."

Ciggie glances back and says, "You got the hatch, 'Baby?" She checks the controls, and prepares to maneuver on the all clear.

Emmanuelle doesn't start stirring until after Batista has put her down. Her arms tighten around the rifle, hugging it closer.

[TAC3] "Black Cat" Legacy says, "Milius, Black Cat. The order was given. Get the tags from the dead, bring back the live."

Bat struggles to shrug Mimieux into a seat, then has a much easier time of belting her in. She wipes her brow, and clicks the safety restraint. She glances over toward the hatch, then clicks the safety restraints in place on her own seat.

[TAC3] Nigel says, drily enough. "Yes sir. No tags or identification to be had. Just checkin'."

Huff. Puff. Nigel's billowy-suited self hauls the incapacitated redhead man through the seal with a few grunts of exertion. He's getting blood all over the Snipe's EVA suit. Eww. "Huh. We got visitors." Setting the man down with as much delicacy as he can muster, his shoulders slump, as he looks to the other two women. Check that. Other -four- women.

"Yeah…one sec…" Kitty toggles the control and the hatch soon hisses closed. "Everything looks good, Ciggie. Are we going to be returning back to base, now?"

[Into the Wireless] "Ciggie" Parker says, "Black Cat, Ciggie. Our live ones are aboard and we're locked up tight, ready to move. Request permission to RTB and offload."

[TAC3] "Black Cat" Legacy says, "Copy Ciggie. RTB. Both Raptors heading in. Kharon, Black Cat. Two salvage patrol returning with live ones. Request Security and Medical meet us in the Hangar Bay."

[Into the Wireless] "Ciggie" Parker says, "Copy that, Black Cat. See you back at the barn."

[Foxbat-7: Nemesis] Fox-7's thrusters light up and the raptor pulls away from the raider and shuttle sammich. The raptor turns, drops below the main field of debris, and skirts along the bottom, avoiding the largest chunks. Again, a ghoulish symphony of things clattering and thodding off the hull commences. It's a musical serenade all the way back to the barn.

[Foxbat-4: Legacy] Foxbat-4 pulls away from the life pod, and the dead. That's probably the hardest part, leaving the bodies out here in the cold black of space. But it goes, taking the living with it. The trek back to Kharon is a slow one, given the amount of debris and bodies that need to be avoided. Perhaps some of the same bodies that were hit on the way out are tapped on the way back in as Thea slides down to mirror Ciggie's flight path. She's just behind the other Foxbat.

"So…" Batista reaches up to run pale fingers across her brow, smearing dying blood. "Does this ride come with a stiff drink?"

Ciggie calls back, "'Baby, could you please remove the weaponry from our guests? The MPs on board Kharon won't be amused if weapon wielding folk step off this shuttle, and I'd rather not get stuck in the middle."

"Will do." Kitty unbuckles herself and stands, turning slightly to face their guests. "If you'd be as so kind as to relinquish your weapons, I'd appreciate it. We'll make sure they get returned to you but for now…"

Meanwhile, the sta-puft man don't say nothin'. He's just chillin' in his restraints, monitoring the injured red-haired man intently.

Someone's going to have to pry the weapon from Emmanuelle's cold, albeit not dead, fingers. Unconscious women don't exactly just up and hand over their weapons, after all.

Batista glances up at Kitty, and blinks. "Oh." She glances around the interior of the shuttle, and thinks about it for a long moment. At last, she seems to agree that this is an okay move, because she reaches into her pocket, and pulls out the small pistol from her pocket, and hands it to the ECO.

CEC Kharon, Hangar Deck, Hangar Bay 1
IC Time: Post Holocaust Day #135
OOC Time: Mon Aug 31 22:41:44 2009


There's activity here at almost every hour of the day. Impact guns can be heard with their shrieking rumble while crew call back and forth, their voices carrying just above the din of the work here. What's readily apparent is that this is the main Hangar Bay for the Vipers, the distance going back further than the other two Bays which are separated by thick, hydraulically rolled blast doors. On each side of the room, near the Fore end, six Viper tubes are ready for quick deployment of the Kharon's Viper squadron. Lining the rest of Hangar Bay One, each Mark Two and Mark Seven has its own place to be kept with a small red toolchest that holds the minimum of required equipment for quick maintenance.

Along the floor, each individual Viper bay is painted off with a single hashed yellow and black stripe. A deep red line denotes important electrical conduits and access ports just below the deck while a bright blue line follows up walls and across the floor to tell where the Tylium lines run in case of fire. Outlets along the wall for the fuel as well as corrugated rubber piping stand ready for use, fluorescent yellow firefighting gear kept in plain sight for easy access nearby.


Once the doors are cracked on the foxbat-7, Batista exits without hesitation. Holy freedom. The last hours in that life pod, floating about in space, were clearly not high priority on the fun list. She bleeds from a superficial head wound, smeared at her forehead, and she doesn't stop moving till she's off the raptor wing and seated on the deck plating. Thank you, Gods.

Once back in the barn, Thea slides down from her Raptor, waiting at the bottom to assist with the lifting out of the injured. She's out of the way, but nearby - just in case.

LtJG "Ciggie" Parker glances over to Kitty as they exit the bird after their passengers. Parker thumbs over her shoulder. "There's an unconscious one in there with a death grip on her rifle. I'm not touching her. Where are those MPs?"

Struggle struggle, fumble, fumble, the helmet comes off the Marshmallow suit's head. Nigel's thin hair is plastered against his sweaty skull. Beady eyes blink. "Well. That was somethin' anyway."

Don't worry, Marines are here to make sure everyone gets a nice, warm welcome. Both Sergeant Volker and Private Dover are standing about three feet apart at one side of the raptor, weapons slung to rest against their torsos for the moment. It's a cross between comforting and two men outwardly emoting 'Do something stupid. We dare you.'

Kitty exits the ship, a pistol in hand which is being held carefully. "Who would like to put this away for our guests," she says while holding it out, semi-offering it to whomever is closest to her, security-wise, and semi-trying not to accidentally shoot herself.

"I like the sound of her already!" Yes, that would be Dover upon hearing the words 'Death grip' and 'her' in the same sentence. He's scrambling his ass up the side of the raptor before Volker even has a chance to stick his arm out to stop him.

Injured? There's injured people? One wouldn't know from Thorn's reaction, as he remains in the bird to run through the usual postflight routine after Legacy steps down. It doesn't take the veteran ECO long to finish, though, and soon he follows Thea out the hatch, cradling his helmet in his hand as he steps down from the wing.

The 'her' in question is wearing the uniform of a Colonial Lieutenant, and holding onto that rifle like it's a child she's trying to save. Emmanuelle Mimieux is still out like a light. Consciousness? Not really her thing at the moment. But her skin has the proper color and her pulse is good, for the most part.

Volker, on the other hand, just steps forward to offer his hand out to Kitty. "Mind if I take that, Ajtai?" Half a face, but still a comforting smile when it needs to be. Although admittedly more of his focus is on the weapon than the ECO. "…And, erm.. who had that, exactly?"

In the meantime, Sta-puft quietly excuses himself. Those suits chafe, you know.

"Oh yes. Here you are, Sergeant. Make sure it's properly labled so the lady can get it back with no difficulties when the time comes, please." The weapon is handed over to the marine while pointing out the proper person, that being Batista. When the gun is in the proper hands she looks around and asks, "Would it be alright if I went to medical to check on those who have been injured, sir," the question posed to Legacy.

Thorn exhales as he slowly walks his way through the bustle that is the hangar deck after an operation. A hand runs through sweat-streaked hair as he trudges in the general direction of the other Raptor, where the Marines and other pilots are congregating.

Thea reaches out to touch Thorn's shoulder and offers him a smile. "Good work out there," she says quietly. "Go up and get cleaned up. You've earned a night of rest…" But then he's gone and she's being asked a question by Kitty. "Go on," she tells Kitty, dipping her head. "Good work out there tonight. You too, Ciggie. I'll be working on the AAR in the office, if I'm needed."

From inside the raptor, there's the sound of grunting, a little wailing and something not unlike a child trying to open a sealed jar of honey. About five seconds later, the unmistakeable voice of Pvt Dover pipes out of the door. "SAAAAARGE, SHE WON'T LET GOOOOO."

Nigel pauses a bit though as he shoots a wave towards his now-former Raptor crew. "Pleasure flyin' with ya, Sirs! Gotta get debrief. 'Fore something else breaks." He smiles, with obviously feigned cheeriness.

"Not bad out there today, Croissant," Parker nods toward Nigel. She stows her flight helmet under her arm, then glances back toward her raptor, and the large scrape down the side of the hull. It looks like the tbird after little Jimmy backed into the mailbox and scraped it down the side. She clears her throat, shoots a look at Legacy, and nods. "Sir."

Batista's flight suit has many pockets. No telling what else she has on her. She remains sitting by the scraped up raptor, taking a moment of alone time with the open expanse of Hangar Bay. Breathe in, breathe out.

Volker takes the pistol, hitting the magazine release and peering at the top before it dissapears into an empty pouch. The pistol gets it's slide racked, sending a previous chambered round spinning into the air and then into the Sergeant's hand. His little moment of looking badass and glancing to Batista is interrupted by the yelling. Siiigh. Eye roll. "Clear the mag and pull the damn charging handle, Dover! Better she has a damn club when she wakes up than a gun." Back to staring at Batista while giving glances to the other Civilians. Oh shit, he's thinking.

And that's the point when Thea makes her way toward her 'office,' to work on the AAR.

Kitty looks at Thea and smiles. "Thank you, sir. Good job…" She winks to the Captain and then pats the shoulders of those she went out on the mission with, offers the newly arrived rescue-ees a warm smile and then she's running out of the hangar.

Thorn, too, is on his way out of the hangar, but he's in no real hurry. He's already reaching for his pack of cigarettes as he nears the stairs.

The sweaty Engineer gives Ciggie a hideous-looking grin and disappears down the stairwell afterwards.

It's about that time that Mimieux starts to come around. There's a quiet groan from inside the Raptor. No, it's nothing loud - but it IS a sign of life! The rifle is HERS!

Other, nameless lackey MPs guide most of the civilians where they need to be going while Dover fumbles with a woman inside of a raptor. Basically, nothing too out of the ordinary. Then she starts to come around, right as Dover is yanking the handle on the side of the firearm, sending a round spinning through the air. He doesn't get to catch it. Instead, he just yells. "BWARGH!"

Batista runs a hand through tangled blonde hair, smearing the blood further before she finally looks up and around. She reaches up to use the raptor's edge to prop herself up, then stands, and tugs awkwardly at her flight suit. She jumps a little at the yell from inside the raptor, spins on it, and hastily backs right into the other MP standing on the deck.

"This yours?" Sergeant Volker waggles the CP1 pistol to the woman who just decided to bump into his rifle. He's had worse first introductions, anyway. At least he's not trying to be intimidating. It's just a geninue question. Although the whole 'intimidating' thing was somewhat disrupted by the few steps backward he had to take after the collision.

There's a growl from inside the Raptor, one matching poor Dover's howl. "MINE," says the just coming back to conscious woman. "Try it again and I'll shoot." Yeah, it's likely she hasn't focused enough to see the uniform yet.

"Woah! Woah!" Dover takes a couple of steps away. Not as easy as it sounds in the confines of a raptor, but at least he doesn't crack his head against something. "Me Colonial Military! Me Friend!" Dover is a master of keeping it simple. Even his hands are raised. In a glimmering moment of smartness, he decides not to mention the unloading of her gun. Best she try and shoot and fail then realise all she can do is club him to death… and thus attempt it.

Hello. Hey. "Hey." Bat whirls on the MP, and points at him. "You watch where you put that." The blonde glances over the marine, and then quickly averts her eyes when she notices the scars. She blinks, and squeaks out, "Yes." There's a heavy breath after, and then she actually sobs. Once. It's enough. Silent tears run down her face, and the civvie pilot reaches down, pulls the zipper all the way up on her flight suit, and crosses her arms. Must not… show weakness. She sniffs a great snuffle of air, and shoots a glare at Barnabas. Like it's his fault she just watched an epic space battle from the viewport of a life pod, got crashed into by a raider, and was pretty sure death by suffocation at termination of life support was her own personal end game.

Military? Colonial Military? Emmanuelle's eyes focus on Dover for a moment and she blinks, rapidly. "I'm a doctor," are the next words from her mouth. "Are there any inj…" She tries to sit up and winces. "Injured?" The gun gets held out to the man. Yes, she's giving up her weapon. Score! "Where am…where are we?"

"Hi." Barney smiles. Look at that, it's even a full smile. …Ok so he's been practicing in the mirror in the berthings for like, a week now. WHAT OF IT. Don't you judge him. And then she sobs. And his face drops. Perhaps he needed more practice? Batista's pistol dissapears somewhere into his vest with suprising speed, and he's taking a couple of steps back.

It takes her a second, but Bat stomps her foot slightly, as if making a demand of herself silently. It's only slightly hilarious on a grown woman. She reaches up to wipe her eyes. "Right, don't break my gun. That's my favorite gun. I need it to live." She still doesn't quite make eye contact. Instead, she reaches up to poke at her head wound which has ceased its sluggish bleeding. Wince. Poke. Wince. Poke. Wince.

That's right, things are going better for Dover than they are for Barney. Suck it, Rank! His hand grasps around the barrel of the firearm, and he slings it along with the other. Now you can be sure if any Cylons pop up he's going to hold one in each arm and full-auto like never before. But that's later. NOW he's too busy looking suprised. "Wait… that worked? That actually worked? Sweet!" Control yourself, Dover. His face settles into something more formal, and he gives the woman a reply. "Colonial Escort Carrier 'Kharon'. We heard you had some toaster trouble. Sorry, but our repairmen are a little rough handed."

Emmanuelle just looks up at Dover for a long moment then offers him her hand, palm down, clearly expecting him to assist her to her feet. "And you are, Private," she asks quietly, delicately. Ahhh, yes. She looks like one of them there breakable wimmen. "You'll be escorting me to Medical, yes?"

Barney's still keeping his distance, and it's… pretty obvious he's turning his face a little to show off the right side of it and hide the.. well, reason he keeps getting called 'half-face.' "Fair enough. It'll be kept safe by our Master-At-Arms until we've got everything sorted out. Then you can get it back." He pulls open a pouch on his vest, bringing out a pad and a pen. And then another pouch opens, and a little clear sealed baggie comes out, the contents hidden until it's fully removed. "I'll need your name." Baggie fully withdrawn. Offered. "Want a cookie?"

"Okay. One. I have to frakkin' pee." Batista turns to the marine with the rifle. "Two, I'm bleeding here. Don't you have medics or someth — " There's a pause from the blonde, and she wipes her bloodied hand on her coveralls, smearing her own blood across her hip. Sticky. "Cookie first." She extends her hand, palm up. What the hell. Yeah that actually worked.

"I guess I am now, Lieutenant." Dover takes her hand. Well, her wrist (Omghe'stouchingawoman) and half helps, half-YANKS her upwards. "As long as you're alright to walk. If not I think we could get some extra help up here for you." Oh god. He's rubbing the back of his neck and looking slightly at the floor. What have you done to him.

Getting tugged so soon after regaining consciousness? Not such a good thing. In fact, she ends up sprawling against his chest with a quiet "oof." One hand's on the poor boy's shoulder, the other on his hip as she tries to right herself. "I think…I think I should be fine to walk," she tells him, a bit of a squeak in her voice.

"Cookie first." Barney nods, opening the baggie to drop one of the sweet, sweet contents into the waiting hand. Then it's re-sealed and thrown back into the pouch from whence it came. "Name second, unless you want your gun to dissapear into the depths of military bureaucracy. Then you can get to the infirmary, the MPs at the door will show you the way." There are totally some there. Don't be calling him a liar now.

Her voice has a squeak. Dover's voice? Well, that is a squeak. "'Kay!" His eye suddenly catches sight of something really, really interesting on the ceiling, hands pressing up against the wall of the raptor. "Weshouldgonowthen" Squeeeeeek.

Batista regards the cookie in her palm, and she brings it closer to give it a sniff. She glances over at Barnabas, but briefly, then nibbles the corner of it. "CoCo Batista." She points to the patch on her flight suit. "Commercial pilot. Everybody calls me CeCe." She shoves the cookie in her mouth, then extends a hand in greeting, hardwired politeness forces her to make eye contact now.

Mimieux tugs her dirty and bloodstained uniform back into place and straightens up, tossing her head slightly. "Lead the way then, Private," she says primly, smiling at Dover. "Thank you for helping me up." And yes, she waits for him to precede her from the Raptor.

Barney writes. Writes. Writes. Stops writing at mention of her nickname. His head ever-so-slowly swivels to look her directly in the eye, and his eyebrows drop down his face like a failing elevator. "CeCe Batista?" He sounds slightly unbelieving. Not to mention the hints of a Virgon accent are now decidedly more noticable.

Gulp. Gulp. Is Dover sweating? Oh jeez he's totally swearing. "O-of course." The poor private damn near falls out of the raptor, staggering to regain his footing behind Batista. Ok, so Barney definitely saw, Mimieux might have seen… but there's no way Batista could. He's 1/3! That's a good job in his books.

From around a mouthful of cookie, the blonde yuh-huhs, "Why? Did I stutter?" Okay, that was a little snappish, but the Virgon accent sometimes has that reaction when coupled with the look on Barnabas' face. Because it can only mean one thing. She leans back a little. "Hey, don't —"

Emmanuelle reaches out to take Dover's arm under the pretext of needing him to steady her. That covers things, right? "If you'll just take me to the sickbay, Private," she says softly. She dips her head to Barney and Batista politely before letting go of poor Dover. Someone's sure of herself, despite being dirty as hell.

"Must be a common surname." Volker turns his head to the side again, not looking the new arrival in the eye. Dover totally gets stared at though. Totally. Stared. At. It helps Barney cover that he's bullshitting about the 'common name' thing. Pad write. Write write and she won't know lalalalala.

"Yes Sir." It almost looked like Dover was about to salute for a moment there. "It's right this way." He starts to lead the way, breathing a little deeply in an attempt to get rid of the flushed color in his face. If people see him like that in the hallways…. Oh gods they'll be talking for months.

"Yeah, okay." Bat takes the out as it's given, and then turns for an insta-flee toward the other MPs, at a reasonably sedate sort of 'leaving now' pace. Maybe she just really needs to pee. "Thanksforthecookie."

And Emmanuelle is also on her way out, just behind Dover. She looks neither right nor left, simply straight ahead.

And so Barney is left standing with a notepad, a pen, a baggie full of cookies and… well. The one other thing he has would probably make for excellent blackmail material if it was anyone else. For him? It's something that'll put a smile on his half-face for weeks to come.

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