Bye Bye Leo
Bye Bye Leo
Summary: The marines plot, scout, and play in the snow. The pilots continue to bleed. But then everyone gets an evac. Yay.
Date: 28 ACH (11 December 2008)
Related Logs: Enemy Contact, The Calvary

Leonis, Muse Lodge, 28 ACH

This lodge has been constructed from logs and is rather sturdy. Even though the outside has been through some destructive elements, the inside is almost like stepping back in time. The area has been gone through and some things are torn up, turned over and broken, but on the whole it is mostly servicable.

A large seating area with a huge fireplace. A check-in counter has a small, plushie tick sitting on the cash register and a dining area is seen through an archway. Up a flight of stairs, there are rooms for rent. Outside are cabins for rent as well. An attached area past the large seating area, shows a small, country store.

It's been hours since the ragtag team first holed up here. Days, maybe, who can tell? When you're in this much pain, it all tends to bleed together. Literally. Not one to be lying about when he can be putting himself to some use, Micah's eased himself into a chair at one of the restaurant's tables and is cleaning out his sidearm with a quiet, mechanical care — whatever it takes to keep his hands busy.

Lex, on the other hand, has been pacing, alternating inside and Lodge, checking, re-checking, scouting, and generally barely holding still. When she does hold still, she flips through one of those books she snagged from the gift shop. She stoically ignores the flesh wound in her abomen which she tended to herself. Pretty well, thanks.

Novella is wrapped in blankets and laying on the blood-coated couch. She's been out most of the time, occasionally blinking herself awake onto to zonk back out within a few seconds. But Craven is.. not.. around. So the morpha is wearing off. Nov finally opens her eyes and they actually stay open. She tilts her head to the side to look at the two. Most people would ask what time it is.. "Got any water?"

Thankfully, water was one of the first things Micah called for when they arrived here. The stuff's cold, but there's a few bottles of it stuffed in one of the supply packs; he nods toward it, and then lifts his eyes to Lex as the marine passes by with her book. It's a request, not an order.

Lex returns to the Lodge proper, adjusting her body armor as she does. A light dusting of snow hints that she's been outside again, checking the perimeter and scouting the area. The wireless, silent, remains on her hip. She crosses a few steps to being her to the couch, crouching next to the Ensign. She offers water from her own canteen, instead. She shoves a briefly colored bendy straw into it. It's from the gift shop, and featurs a bulbous cartoony tick on top. She directs the straw to Novella's mouth, so the Ensign doesn't have to move much, her hand going to support her head unasked.

Nov nods a silent 'thanks' to Micah and her eyes watch the Marine approach. She doesn't decline the help, and manages a little smile at the tick. "Cute," she whispers. Lips purse around the straw and she takes a few gulps. Her head lays back when she finishes. "Thank you." A pause. "Got any whiskey?" She was good. She asked for water first. "What's your name, Private?"

Micah keeps his eyes on Novella for a few moments longer, then briefly studies the private and her silently offered aid. Lowering his head, he returns to the task of cleaning out his weapon. There's no rush at the moment, though the space heater isn't quite enough to banish the chill in here; his hands tremble a touch as he works.

"No, sir. I don't carry the hard stuff." Lex smiles a little at that, and slides her hand out from behind Novella's head when she's relaxed. She remains crouched just next to the couch. "Lex, sir. Nico Lex." Her eyes survey the Ensign briefly, checking for outward signs in status change without touching her to do so.

Nov is still a little on the pale side.. which for her is pretty pale. But at least she's a touch more alert. And not throwing drugged orders around. "Ain't that a bitch?" she sighs, taking her sweet time to close her eyes for a moment. But she looks back to the Marine and nods. Her voice is slow and measured. "Nice to meet you, Nico. I'm Baylee. Thanks.. I'd shake your hand but.." She glances to the blankets wrapping her. "Insert bad pun here." Another little smile and she looks to Micah. "Hey Ensign.. come get warm over here?"

"Ah'm warm enough," is Micah's muttered response, accompanied by a flash of bright eyes from beneath the shock of dark, matted hair. Click. Spin spin spin. Click. "Good t'meet you, private," he echoes dully, pausing in his task for a moment in order to stifle a fit of coughing.

Lex nods to Novella. "I'll forgive you the hand given the shrapnel, sir." She glances over to the other Ensign, and she reaches into her pockets, pulling out the cracked handwarmer packs she's been using today. She tosses the plastic encased chemical packs to Micah's knee. "Use those."

Micah can play with his wheel-gun. It only reminds Novella of something. But she nods to Lex. "Are you patched alright? Everything okay?" She's becoming more alert, coming out of her groggy haze. Eyes flit to Micah. "Don't be the brooding one. Come get warm. You okay too?" A few more blinks. "Where is my sidearm?" Someone probably picked that thing up after she dropepd it by the stairs. Right?

Micah wipes the blood from his mouth with the back of a hand, and sets to work once more. The gun's as clean as it's likely to get, but he's a man on a mission today. "Look behind you," he tells Novella, referring to a side table by the couch she's lying on, stacked with travel magazines — and a familiar sidearm atop them all, also cleaned out and reloaded. Seems someone did, in fact, retrieve her weapon. "Ta," he mumbles to Lex for the heat packs, though sets them aside for the time being.

"Took care of it myself. Just a flesh wound." Lex seems unconcerned about her person. Her armor has taken quite a few hits and eaten most all of them. The blonde private glances around the interior of the cabin. "I always wanted to try a ski vacation. Though not what I had in mind, it's an experience." She falls silent, listening to the room.

Novella tilts her head back to see the sidearm there and she seems to relax. Likes to have ways of throwing hot metal at the chrome, it seems. "Thanks, Micah." It would appear that ordering him around isn't going to work and she's not exactly in the best place to be imposing or threatening. Her arm moves like she might try and unwrap the burrito, but she's kinda warm so.. gun can sit nearby. Her gaze falls back to Lex and the Ensign smirks a little. "Yeah. My parents had a timeshare.. cabin inside looked like this. Spent two weeks out of the winter there. Beautiful. Skiing. Hot tub. Hunting. Though.." She looks down at herself, seeing a bandage around her shoulder. "..not such a fan of hunting. Who banadaged me?"

"Welcome, Cav," is the other pilot's muted reply. There's a flicker of something at the corners of his mouth, an inkling of warmth that's quickly replaced by sullenness. "You never been skiing, private?" he addresses Lex, with a final thunk as he slides the clip back into the weapon. It's palmed in his left hand as opposed to his right, and swung to bear at one of the windows. Nothing there, of course.

Lex shakes her head, "No. I haven't." She thinks on it a moment, then says, "I did mount an offensive in the snow once, but ice cored snowballs aren't really something we, in the Corps, like to discuss in mixed company."

Novella watches Micah turn the gun on the window. "Bang," she whispers with a smirk. Probably still some of that Morpha in her system. Looking back to Lex, the smile doesn't fade. "Shit you all fight dirty. Lemme guess.. you like to put little blasting caps in them too, just to freak out us Navy types, mm?"

"I never put blasting caps into snowballs, sir." Lex's lip twitches, and she continues, "I prefer pressure trigger land mines and trip wire IEDs."

Novella's 'bang' earns a quick grin from Micah, teeth briefly flashing. "Wouldn't imagine so," he murmurs to Lex. Lowering the sidearm, he rests it back on the table and grudgingly reaches for one of those heat packs. "My dad an' his girlfriend used to take me skiing, once a year. Big deal for them, I guess."

"Pressure trigger land mines?" Novella's brow rises. "Godsdamn, Lex. I'm glad you are on our side. Makes me scared to ask.." Sniffle. "..what you do what you are mad. Play with HBX and sixty pounds of ball bearings?" High grade military explosive. Lots of fun. Not something many pilots would know about.

Private Lex grins. "They don't have to be hot. Just that click is enough to make some Navy wet their pants." She chuckles and notes, "G-4 is my favorite if we're talking professional, but there's something to be said for your classic low grades."

Novella winces a bit with the short laugh. "Ahhh shitfire," she sighs lightly, rolling her head a moment. It had to hurt. "Don't know much about those Marine toys." She pauses, seeming like she might stop, but a smile crosses her and she continues. "My grandfather.. flew in the first war. Talked about some stuff they tought pilots years ago. How to disassemble missile warheads in the field. At a.. uh.. a crashsite. Simple stuff. Easy triggers to wire them." She pauses to catch her breath. "It was supposed to be to make sure the Cylons didn't get the Viper." A playful roll of her eyes. "Paps said he used them to make mines for Cylons. Wish I could remember some of it."

"It's pretty heady stuff," Lex notes, with a nod of her head. She's really into demo. In a way that is probably a little scary even to her Squad. "You just gotta breathe, and remember your training, and stay steady. Otherwise it's pretty simple once you get down to it." She doesn't mention all the manuals and special toys. That would just be cruel.

"Yeah. My mom used to get fussy when he told me those things." A light laugh leaves her, careful not to rip open her wounds. "Paps used to love secondary charge things. At least.. yeah. Secondary? Bigger boom or something like that." Eyes glance to the door and back. "Wish I wasn't so frakked up. Wouldn't mind getting some stuff off Spooky or some lessons." She clears her throat. "What's your favorite kinda boom-toy?" Important to differentiate between toys and boom-toys.

"Changes depending on what kinda week it's been." Lex drops her arms to her knees and continues to rest in the crouch. "When it comes right down to it, chains will always have a special place in my heart. There's nothing like det cord to liven up a party. You can never have too much det cord."

Lex is knelt next to the blood-stained couch. Novella is lying on the couch, wrapped in a bunch of mismatched blankets. The Ensign is awake for the first time all night and speaking quietly in the dark with the Marine Private.

"I guess I can see that," Novella breathes. Her voice slow and halting still in her quiet conversation with Lex. "Chains sound exciting." My, couldn't that be taken wrong. "Paps never mentioned those. What is it? Just a bunch of boomy rope?" Yep, just a touch of that Morpha still in her system.

Lex is knelt next to the blood-stained couch. Novella is lying on the couch, wrapped in a bunch of mismatched blankets. The Ensign is awake for the first time all night and speaking quietly in the dark with the Marine Private.

"Chains are always exciting," Lex replies in a way that could be described as half way between deadpan and dry. These nuances tend to escape the wounded, but with Lex it could go either way. I said it, not she. Stop twitching. "I have some vid you might be interested in back on the ship. Have you ever seen a circular structure demolished? It's like watching an earthquake go in a circle. You time the blasts 2 seconds apart, and the things you can do with limited supplies…" She shakes her head. "It'll make you warm in places you didn't know you had."

Desusa steps in from the store almost silently. He seems to have been surveying a map, as it is still clasped in one of his hands. His soft paces take him to stand besides a window, where he takes the occacional peek outside. Full surveillence mode, eventhough Hazzard is probably outside rolling around with the snow squirrels.

From off to one side of the room comes the figure of Craven. He's looking a little worse for wear, with bags under his eyes, as if he hadn't taken to sleeping in the past few days. His left arm no longer hangs and shakes by his side, for it's been tucked up into a sling that loops up and around his neck. As always, there's a medical satchal looped over his shoulder and it seems that he's making his way in the direction of the injured pilots.

No Squirrels accompany the Sniper into the Muse Lodge, just alot of snow that is caught in the webbing of the ghillie suit. Rubbing his hands together to stave off some of the cold, Hazzard puts down his backpack on the floor and reaches inside to fish out a thermos. "G-got some coffee to spare, if a-any one w-wants some." he says through clattering teeth.

Novella listens quietly (and wide-eyed) to Lex. "Don't tease me, Lex. I wanna see it." Pause. "Do.. they show everything? Setup, too?" Despite being swiss cheese for this plot, she's still managing a bit of excitement. "I.." She stops as she notices Desusa walk by. "Frak.. when did they get here?" Then Craven appears. She gives him a weak smile. "El-Tee.. Hey. Welcome to the party." Clearly pleased to see him. She probably doesn't remember a lot of the night before's treatments - so much the better, right?

Ensign Relmar Rycard is sit-leaning against a table, lighting a cigarett. His forhead wrapped with bandages, though nothing too impressive, to cover the 3-4 stiches Craven patched his cut with. Leaving the lighter on the table next to him, Rycard fills his lungs with smoke, and lets it out with a sigh as he removes the cigarett from his lips. "Anyone cares to guess how long we'll be here?" he then says, taking a casual look around at the people present and or awake.

Lex sits back after nodding. "They do." She leaves the officers to talk by merely going silent, and pouring herself a drink of water in a cup with a little bulbous plastic tick that slides up and down the side when it's tipped. Gods bless commercial crap. "Depends on if there's a pool, sir." Re: guessing.

Desusa looks over to the pilots as Craven steps in to check on them. A frown forms as Rycard lights up his coffin nail, "Ensign, cylons have no sense of smell, but they care surely pickup on that cherry you are lighting up from 400 yards away. Stuff it." He looks to Hazzard come in now and just shakes his head.

Novella is treated to a smile, followed by a quick nod of Craven's head, "Ensign. How are you feeling, today?" Finally reaching her other side, he moves to take a knee beside her and his right hand lifts to slip into his pocket, withdrawing a small needle. With some care, the cap of it is removed and he's looking back towards the Ensign, "Going to give you another shot of Morpha." There's a flicker of his eyes over towards Desusa, to whom he gives a slight nod, "Major. Need to speak with you."

Pouring himself a cup of coffee and savouring the 'warmth' of the lodge for a moment, Hazzard looks over the injured from under the shadow cast by his hodd, and offers a nod towards them. "I've done what I can to ensure there is no intel to salvage from the two birds, Sir." he finaly says as he looks over towards Desusa. From under his suit he brings out two pieces of metal and moves over to place them on a table near the wounded pilots. It is the side panel of the Phantom and of the downed raptor, the part where its pilots name is written/Or the ship name. "Incase you want it.."

The two bangs during the night, may indicate what he means by 'doing what he can'

"Feel like I got frakkin shot down, El-Tee." Sure, Novella could be surly and angry. But at least she's got a smile on her face. "No.. Just.. I need to be able to shoot when we extract." Because surely, she'll be at the top of her game for such activities. "Can't you give me whiskey or something?" As Hazzard sets the panels down, she blinks and looks back to him. "Hope you didn't blow them up.. We, uh.. But.. thanks.." She blinks and looks to Desusa. The Spooky was his baby. And probably salvagable. Rut roh. She's going to shut up now.

Lex's eyes turn to Hazzard. A brow arches slightly. She says nothing. No-thing.

Rycard looks up at Desusa for a moment and then flicks the glowing ash from his cigarett, saving what he can for later. "Yes, sir" he says as he returns the smoke to one of his innerpockets. Looking over at Hazzard, he asks "You take care of the nav-computers, corporal?"

Desusa looks at Hazz for a few pregnant seconds before moving carefully around towards Craven. "I got the flight recorders form Lakis. That's all I need." Major SNIFF here folks! Not really. He crouches down near Craven and looks at his mad medical skillz.

As Novella is speaking, Craven presses the needle into her arm. Withdraw it, he's replacing the cap and slipping it back into his pocket, "We'll have you back up and shooting in no time, Ensign. For now, just lay there and try not to move." There's a cursory glance over her, a touch of the back of his head to her forehead, then two fingers to her pulse. Content, he's moving to repeat the same motions with Micah, giving only the slightest nods as he finishes up. Then, it's back over towards Desusa, where he's motioning the Major to follow him a few steps away from the patients, to talk privately.

Hazzard studies the sidepannel of Raptor 134 and the Phantom and lowers his head. "Birds dont have dog tags, didnt know what else to do." he reachs a gloved hand up and runs it over his mouth as he glances over towards Desusa and then back towards the pilots. "I'm not an ECO nor an Electrician..could not afford to let the Flight recoder and FTL computer lead the toasters back to the Genesis, or our base." he finaly says and nods his head. "Lakis took the computers, but we made sure no traces were left."

Lex just shakes her head. Woman hates to miss a good explosion. She digs into her pack, pulls out a book, and flips it open.

"Just as well I guess" Rycard says and shrugs his shoulders. "You think they've found the bunker?" he then says and once more takes a look around to see if anyone has something to share.

Novella sighs unhappily with the shot. Nobody likes to be told they're useless and kind of a hinderance in these situations. Frakking hell. "Yes, sir," she sighs. But as Hazzard tells them of what he's done, she goes a bit wide-eyed. "Dear Gods, Sniper.. I.. Did you blow up the Phantasm?" She's a bit exasperated. The blone looks woozey for a moment before settling back and looking at the ceiling, catching her breath.

Lex reads in silence. This conversation pretty much passed her pay grade when it stopped involving her particular expertise.

Desusa watches Craven do his rounds before finally standing back up again to talk with him… ahem… behind closed doors.

When Desusa and Craven are adequately out of earshot of the others, the Doctor turns towards the Major as he settles his right hand in his pocket. When he speaks, he's lowered his voice, simply to ensure that they are not overheard, "Major, what's our extraction looking like? I need to get those two pilots back to the Genesis and time isn't exactly on our side. Right now, I'm just pluggin holes to prevent them from bleeding out. Can't really do anything more without the proper equipment."

Hazzard nods his head towards Novella. "We did.." he murmurs before he sips on his coffee. A finaly pat on the two side panels on the table before he looks over towards where Craven and Desusa went. "Anyhow, I wonder if I should volounteer to trekk back..How far is it..sixty miles, cross terrain?" he asks and looks over towards the pilots. "Any idea?"

"Took me ten minutes or so getting here from the bunker" Rycard says. "And at full throttle at that" he adds. "And we are surrounded by mountains. You wont be going in a straight line, corporal… It could take you days, even without avoiding Cylons on the ground."

Novella. Stunned. It takes her a few minutes to finally form a reply. Her mouth bobs open and closed like a fish gasping its last breath. She's probably praying the every single God that Rue doesn't hold her responsible for that. "Uh. ah.. ahum.." she stammers. "Probably about thirty-miles straight line? Forty over ground?" The Morpha slowly begins kicking in and she begins glassing over.

Desusa looks back to Micah and Nov and rubs the side of his head a few times, "Yes. I figured you where running out of options in their threatments." Maybe we can eat them? The major shakes his head a few times and glances towards Craven once more, "SOP dictates the no other SAR missions can be undertaken if the area is not confirmed green, and right now, it's more like ant red, El-tee." He rubs his jaw a bit and adds, "Major Rue must stick to protocol and return to the Pandora to bring in a bigger force. We no longer have the element of surprise and our forces on the ground are less than twenty percent." He looks at his watches. We will wait till daybreak, and then we are gonna hike back to HQ with whomever can, Lieutenant." Nice scenario, eh?

Hazzard makes a quick calculation as he estimates the time it would take him to safely make the journey. "Lets assume I need some detours…make it fifty miles..At a slow crouch, I'd make that in approx Thirty hours." he murmurs as he crouches down and then sips on his coffee. "Fifteen if its a cakewalk."

There's a visible frown that crosses Craven's lips and he's shaking his head slightly, "SOP or not, Major. I'm running out of medical supplies and the pilots risk major infection unless I can at least get them to a sterile environment. Can't we bring in Vipers to escort a couple of Raptors? It's imperative that we clear out the injured." He's pausing and then blinking slightly, "Hike back!? There's no way either of my patients are in any condition to hike, let alone be moved, sir."

Novella just stares at the ceiling, fright and concern written across her face.. even if the reason why is slowly fading away. Concerns slide away because nobody is talking to her. Zennnnn.

"I wonder why the Cylons havent attacked yet" Rycard says as he takes a couple of steps towards one of the windows, peeking out into the dark. "I mean… One of their fighters could just nuke this building and we would all be dead, right?"

"No use in wondering about the why and if's, Gambit..We only have one 'how' to sort right now, and that is how to get out of this mess." Hazzard sips on his coffee once again and simply awaits the return of the Major, trying to soak up as much heat as he can in here before he heads back outside.

Desusa looks at Craven with that, 'I am gonna put my boot up your ass' look, but refrains from loosing his cool here. "Lieutenant, this mission is no longer a SAR operation, it's 'survival one'," he looks briefly back to the rest of the crew and narrows his eyes at the doctor, "We have no thermal gear aside from the scopes of our two snipers, and that is the only reason why I have ordered us to move out." He folds his map and slides it into one of his trousers's pocket. "This place won't hold another centurion attack and that makes it unsafe to stay in. Period." Whether he feels sorry for having to make the choice between leaving the injured pilots behind and finding a safer place to wait for the recovery, is not visible in his face.

"Fine, Sir. But I won't be accompaning you on your hike. I took an Oath to save lives and that's exactly what I'm going to do." Craven gives a slight fidget and then shakes his head, "We'll barricade ourselves in the basement while you folks hike back. Plus, you'd move quicker without me and my skills would be put to better use here, making sure they are stable until you can get a Raptor in here."

Realising that the injured people may be drifting and Gods knows how long it will take the Officers to finish what ever kind of talk they are doing, Hazzard slowly rises and gives the injured people a final look before he makes his way over towards the window to finish his coffee while watching the street outside.

Desusa grunts at Craven. Cause that is what marines do, ya know. "Hazzard, prepare the squad to move at daybreak," announces the Major as he walks away from Craven. He keeps his game face on, but you can tell from the tone in his voice, that he's not a happy camper. He stands by one of the many table here, puring himself some water, it seems.

Micah has dozed off at some point, slumped in the same chair with his sidearm resting in front of him on the table. It isn't a deep sleep; the sound of conversation periodically wakes him, as does the Marine who crosses by to the window. His breathing sounds wheezy, but overall he's not as badly off as.. say.. Novella. Then again, it's probably at least partly machismo that keeps him from showing it.

Rycard takes another peek out of the window before heading back to the table where he was sitting before. Sighing, he kicks some debris along the floor. "I just wish we would get on the move… Or atleast that something would happen."

Hazzard looks over towards Desusa. "I will have them assemble stretchers for the wounded." he replies and turns to look over who in here is in good enough health to carry stretchers, and how many that needs to be carried.

Desusa pauses on his drinking and prompts, "No stretchers." Then it's back to drinking and staring at the wall. Nice lumber here, ya know.

It's only a moment after Desusa makes his way back in that Craven follows suit. For once, the Doctor looks cranky and he's immediately making his way over towards the couple of bags he brought with him. Kneeling beside them, he begins to take stock of the items with.

Rycard sits down on the table, picks up the lighter and plays with it between his fingers, watching it with half-interested eyes. "Lords of Kobol… get us out of this mess." He sighs. "Frakked up shit."

Hazzard reaches a hand up and lowers his hood as he studies Desusa for a moment. Concern is the prime emotion of the Snipers as he glances over towards the wounded pilots for a brief second. "Sir, may I have a moment?"

Desusa sets his cup down and slides his sidearm out of its holster. "You may," says the marine as he slides the ammo clip out and pulls the slide back to pop the bullet in the chamber out. He hooks a chair with his foot and slides it close to sit. A few seconds later, he is taking the gun apart. He does this when he's moody.

After a brief coughing fit that brings up more blood, Micah drags the back of his hand across his mouth and shuffles his sidearm closer. The returning doctor is studied for a long moment, and he murmurs to the man, "We've checked it out down there, looks like it was just bein' used for storage. Little cold, but we found a space heater, an' there's blankets."

Hazzard makes his way over to Desusa, placing one hand on the table before the Major he then leans down so he can speak in a lowered voice. "May I suggest only assembling a minor part of the squad, to leave some people to fend for the wounded. I estimate, the trekk will take approx 15-30 hours depending on the circumstances Sir..We leave them to hang..I dont question the order, I just need clarification and offer an alternative, sir." he says in a very low voice.

Shifting his attention over towards Micah, Craven simply gives another slight nod of his head before he's looking back towards his gear. After a moment, he's visibly content and the bags are closed once more before he's looking over towards Micah again, "We'll, we're going to have to make do with what we've got, for the time being."

Rycard fishes out the cigarett he lit earlier and places it in his mouth, letting it lazily rest between his lips without igniring it. He just keeps it there as he pulls out his sidearm from the holster and cheks the clip.

Desusa ignores the coughing people and they're morpha dreams and focuses on cleaning his gun, "We need to find a more defensible position that this lodge, Corporal, and start gathering supplies for a 'long winter'." Which translates to 'I have no clue when the CAG will be able to get back with adequate firepower , so, we better start worring about the ones that actually have a chance to live more then three or four days'. "We can't spare the limited manpower we have on…" he stops his cleaning and sighs a bit, "…low probabilties." Nice way to put it, huh?

The Marine Conspiracy lasts for a lasts for a moment longer, as Hazzard is leaning close to the Major. Finaly when the Major's speech is done, Hazzard straightens up and nods his head. "Second to none, Sir..Bastards all the way." There is no questioning in his eyes as he studies the Major for a moment longer and then looks over towards Gleason, Nate and the other Marines. "Hussle Marines..Zeus wants you packed and ready at the break of dawn…Same goes for you Gambit, your a Marine now..pack your gear, tight, make sure it doesnt make any noices when you move." Slowly and methodically, the Sniper starts to move over and help people with their packing, explaining what may lie ahead.

If Micah's stricken by the words that come out of Desusa's mouth, he certainly doesn't show it. Pragmatic, it's a word he used not two days ago during a chat back at base camp. "Don't know.. whether there was much game aroun' here, before the toasters moved in, but there might be a supply of ammunition.. hunting rifles.." Yep, more coughing and more blood. "Somewhere around here. Somethin' to defend ourselves with." He's watching Craven as he speaks.

Rycard looks up as he slides the clip back into the pistol, quircking an eyebrow at Hazzard. "Im a what now?" he says, the cigarett wobbling between his lips as he speaks.

Listening to both Desusa and then Micah, Craven's giving a slight nod of his head, "If there's anything like that around here, we can certainly use it. It'll make things that much easier, should something happening."

Desusa resumes his task here, trying not to look back to the 'triage' or the squad getting ready to move out. Clean clean clean.

Hazzard looks over towards Gleason. "Private Gleason..Salavage El-Tee Delko's equipment, helmet and vest if usable to Gambit..Sort him our into a proper Marine..Rifle and a clip, divert the remaining ammo between the shooters." It seems now that the Sniper has a task to do, the emotions is put into the back of his head. "Morphine, and first aid kit of the dead to Doc..Anyone of us, who has a spare kit on him, hand it to the Doc..He'll need every frakin ounce of medical equipment and supplies he can get.."

Lex continues to read. Nope, not listening to anything going on around, kthx.

The Ensign finally unfurls an arm from inside the burrito. Its the left. She takes the water package and sets it down on the couch to lean against her face, tilting the straw into her mouth. She purses her lips on it, taking near half. "Parched.. Puh. P-uh." She tries making quiet P sounds. Drugs are fun. She smirks and begins sipping again. Her eyes float from Micah to Craven. "You guys should try this. Morpha? Uhhh-mazin'. First time shot. Well… Now its third. But the first." She's not really whispering to anyone in particular. But Craven's closest so he gets the glances when she pauses to catch her breath.

Hazzard looks over between Micah and Gambit and nods his head. "What he said..Sir." he says with a little smile on his face before he moves over towards Lex. "Private..time to haul ass, Zeus wants you locked and loaded at break of dawn, we are moving out..Pack your shit, and then help out to make this into a defencable position..Need any help, you let me know, Hoo-ah?"

Skip has been present, keeping quiet for the moment, just listening, in between periods that he seems to be deeply lost in thought.

Rycard stands like an idiot, a fish out of water. Looking down at the other two wounded pilots, he looks even more out of his element with both feet on the ground.

Lex looks up, stows her book, closes her pack, and rises with her rifle over her arm. That thing's never more than a foot away from her. "Armed explosive perimeter was established in the night, Corporal." She takes a few steps over and says, "Sir." She addresses Desusa. "Request permission to remain behind to provide support for the wounded."

Desusa sighs and bumps his head over the log wall, closing his eyes. "Denied," he says simply.

Micah narrows his eyes and turns away from Rycard, agitation brewing in the brief grinding of his teeth together. The sidearm's clip is checked briskly and then slotted back into place, and the weapon set aside. He begins patting himself down — carefully — for cigarettes. To Novella, he mutters, "Rather be awake an' in charge of my faculties when I either bleed t'death or the cylons march in here after us. But thanks." He twitches a fleeting smile.

Private Lex's shoulders drop ever so slightly. She clears her throat, stands there for a moment longer than necessary. "Sir." And she turns sharply, and heads toward the back entrance, presumably to go outside and check the perimeter again.

Hazzard looks at Lex for a moment longer, before he moves over towards Rycard and tilts his head. "Bumpbed your head hard right…Once daylight hits, your moving out..You will be operating with members of the Magnificent Bastards. We will get you back to camp, but you need to snap to, you are an Officer of the Colonial Armed forces..Pack your shit, ask the Marines for help if you need it..When we move out, I want your equipment packed so tight it wont make a sound..I want you in a helmet and a vest.." he smiles softly. "It is like flying, you just dont have all the fancy equipment..You'll do fine, Sir."

Novella watches as the nice Marine woman stands from her book and walks over. And then looks angry. The little packet of water empties and makes the gurgling sound before she flips it away to the floor. She can't figure out why Private Nico looks so pouty. But Micah gets her attention and she frowns, looking away. "Oh." The blond settles her head back int othe makeshift blanket-pillow and looks back to the ceiling.

Skip keeps quiet as he waits for the things to happen. Listening what's being said now, he doesn't comment about any of it.

Desusa rubs his face a few times. He knows the marines have bonded with the pilots, and under normal circunstances, he won't give it a rat's ass, but today, it's a whole different ballgame. The marine sets his watch to beep just a few minutes prior to the assumed daylight. He drifts off the sleep soon after that.

Rycard stands like some insecure shoolboy as the Marines fit him with a flakjacket, a kevlar helmet and an assaultrifle, strapping the equipment and wargear down tight over his flightsuit. He truly does look like he's out of his element. "Look… I have two weeks survival training, thats it. I dont know anything about combat."

"Keep your head down, point the bullets at the enemy, don't die." Clomp, clomp, clomp, Lex heads out into the snow.

"Shoot the enemy, avoid being shot," Skip remarks, a bit absently to Rycard. "Oh, and don't get the rest of us killed. Congratulations, you have just recived the most basic instructions."

Hazzard moves over to pack his own gear as Rycard speaks up once again. "The pointy end of the rifle, towards the enemy." he adds to the quick remarks offered by the Marines about survival and combat. It doesnt take years in school to learn this stuff.

"Where the frak did you attend basic, mate?" Micah wants to know. Well, maybe it's a rhetorical question. Lower, as he finally finds and lights his cigarette, "Sure as frak wouldn't have made it past basic, where ah'm from."

Desusa snores.

There is a sudden BOOM heard near the cabin! One of the perimeter claymores just went off!

The Major is asleep, the LT is tending to the wounded, Staff is tending to his gear and Hazzard looks over at the pilots once again and shakes his head ever so slightly with a lingering smile on his lips. What ever he may have been about to say is forgotten as one of the claymores goes off. "Doc, shelter your patients.." he then moves over towards the windows to looks outside, seeing how Lex went out just moments earlier to check the perimeters.

There some yelling going on outside, at about 20 paces from the back of the cabin near one of the windows. Then, a firefight ensues. Desusa still sleeps.

Skip pauses as he hears the sound of the claymore, getting ready for anything that might happen. Stepping near the windows, ready to shoot out there, should it be needed.

Brow arching to the extreme as Craven looks from the patients over towards Hazzard, "Sure, I'll just construct a little barricade to protect them." He's giving a shake of his head, followed by a sigh, "Unfortunately, I don't have that luxury. We'll just have to hope that the ceiling doesn't fall on us." Regardless, and for the first time, Craven's hand drops down to his sidearm.

Novella finally perks back up. Explosions. Those are bad sounds. She reaches to the endtable behind her and grabs her sidearm. Not really able to move, she just lays there, waiting. In silence.

Rycard backs further into the room, now with his gear on, as he notes tension growing on the people around him. Trying to refamilirize himself with the assaultrifle in his hands, he looks around to see what everyone else is doing.

Micah tucks a cigarette between his lips and lights it, just about to take the first drag when something draws his attention. Maybe he can't identify it immediately, but with the marines snapping to attention he reaches for his sidearm swiftly.

For those who are keen on their awareness trait, the sounds of yelling are clear. Those are humn beings screaming outside. There are centurions present aswell, but they are too far away to be distinguished properly. Their faire is aimed at the 'resistance' group running outside. Another claymore goes off.

Hazzard looks towards Skip. "Staff, I'll regroup with Lakis outside..I'll forward what's going on.." he then ducks off out into the night, with his bag slung over one shoulder and the rifle in his other.

Skip nods a bit as he hears that, "Take care out there," he offers quietly, staying by the windows for now."

Human voices draw the attention of Craven and he's cringing. Claymores. Voices. Could mean more injured. As such, his gaze shifts towards Novella and Micah, "You two are to stay here. Don't move, unless it's /absolutely/ needed. I need to have a look, make sure no one else is injured out there." And so, he's trying to find a window that offers a vantage point, to see what exactly is going on.

Novella just stares wide-eyed at Craven. She nods her head a few times. Being stoned right now? A little scary.

"Aye, sir," Micah replies crisply, re-checking his weapon. Leaning back in his chair, he hoists the table up in front of him with a booted foot, and topples it on its side. Hey, it's not much, but it might dampen any stray shots that come his way. "Won't get a loose deuce out of me, Cav, but we'll do what we can, aye?"

The hours go by back at Base Camp. No word from the downed Ol' Spooky's crew. No word from the SAR's crew. This is not good. After waiting the standard length of time and maintaining radio silence, the Major decides to take matters into her own hands. Retreat, albeit a tactical one.

Fast forward to now. Up above Muse Lodge, the air is suddenly filled with a deafening roar, wind ripping through the lanes of the town. And distant, but growing ever-less-so, above is a glowing orange shape. A falling star. No. A falling Assaultstar. Pandora has made an in-atmo jump and is belching out Raptors and Vipers, one after another, like arrows shot from a flaming bow of VENGEANCE. Er.

Huddled at the base of a structure not far off from the lodge, Private Lex looks up as the Assaultstar makes a atmo jump. The firefight and the claymores are, for a moment forgotten. "Holy shit." And then it's back to ground reality. She hefts her rifle, and makes a dash for the lodge, hunkered low in the snow.

Sometime after the firefight started out back somewheres, Lex busts in through the back door, kicking it closed behind her. She heads up to the area where the gathered are tensely waiting, and says, "Pandora jumped into atmo and dumped vipers to join our party. Who wants cake?"

"COOOOOL!" Thank you Novella.

Skip pauses a bit as he hears that, "Really?" he asks, blinking momentarily. "What about the firefight out there?"

[Tac1] "Wrongway" Rue says, "Hello down there. Anybody call for a taxi?"

"Better be chocolate," is Micah's typically sullen offering, sidearm still in hand as he shifts around a little in his chair to face Lex. "With frakking sprinkles and that thick icing that rots your teeth on contact.." She shouldn't have mentioned cake. Though he does look curious about the answer to Skip's question.

Novella still looks concerned, despite her little outburst. "So, uhm." She licks her lips. Thirsty again. "Is there really cake?" She peeks around the edge of the couch hopefully, looking towards Lex. But yeah, Skips talking about a firefight. Micah is making her hungry for the first time since the bunker. Munchies, FTW.

Meris was… probably… here all along. Just quiet. Yes.

Lex picks up the wirelo from its hitch on her belt as it crackles to life with the cheerful, yet understated stylings of one of them pilot types: "Wrongway" Rue says, "Hello down there. Anybody call for a taxi?" To whit, Lex replies simply: "Eyes in the sky, Fortune One and friends awaiting a pickup. If it's not too much trouble. We've got some civilian resistance down here who might appreciate a ride as well. Two heavily wounded awaiting med evac. Over."

[Tac1] "Wrongway" Rue says, "Acknowledged, Fortune One. We have multiple Raptors inbound, they should have your coordinates now. We'll keep the metal off your backs, but watch your head, it's liable to start raining."

From the wirelo: "Acknowledged, Fortune One. We have multiple Raptors inbound, they should have your coordinates now. We'll keep the metal off your backs, but watch your head, it's liable to start raining."

Lex replies, "Copy. Luck up there. Fortune One Out."

Novella looks around and then settles back on Lex. Eyes glassed, but the pilot is still clutching her sidearm. She's still pensive and nervous, eyes on the verge of flitting away to something else. "So.. is there really cake?"

Skip grimaces as he listens to those things from the radio, frowning a bit. "Just as long as it doesn't rain on us…" he mutters.

Micah may or may not believe there actually is cake. But a man's got to have something to motivate him, after all. He holds onto his sidearm, and tries to stifle another bout of coughing as he watches that door.

There is a general scramble to secure all gear and weapons since the taxis have arrived, orders are barked this way and that, and atmosphere is one of high tension and buggin' out. As happens when, say, a shitton of air cover has been provided for this purpose. Brass doesn't like it when you sit around braiding your hair. Etc. (Even if they aren't connected to see it.)

Lex leans over Novella to grab her weapon, and shove it into her own belt. "There could be cake, Baylee. Just breathe and don't bleed too much." You can lie to officers when they're stoned. "We should have a med evac for you any minute. Don't get too excited—that just makes you bleed more."

Meris ceases braiding her hair, slinging her weapon over her shoulder and patting down her pouches to make sure she has everything. Tea. Biscuits brown. Toilet paper. Oh, yeah, and ammunition.

With promises of cake and frosting, Novella is a little more inclined to surrender that sidearm. "After cake.. I need that back." She waggles a finger at Lex, but the woman has a point. Her head lolls foward and she looks down at herself. "Shit. You're right! Some asshole shot me!" And.. she even manages to sound surprised. Probably because the shocking realization happens every few minutes when the El-Tee gives you the good stuff.

… And then everyone gets evacuated. Yay!

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License