Dum spiro, spero – Stage Three
Dum spiro, spero – Stage Three
Summary: Desusa leads the 'rescue' mission to the Persius.
Date: 37 ACH
Related Logs: Dum spiro, spero Logs

Note: Desusa NPC'd with kind permission

Hangar Bay B (#1110RXaFJ) Genesis - Deck 7
37 ACH 6285 Souls

The hangar deck is where the Genesis' Viper squadron, and its Raptor detachment are stored, repaired and maintained between missions. Ships land on the flight deck, one level above, and are brought down via massive elevators. Tow vehicles move the ships around the deck, their shrill alert beeps causing an almost constant cacophony of noise. The floor itself is a light gray in color, but wear and tear has left marks and scratches everywhere. Numbered sections are marked off with paint to house the various spacecraft.
The place is surprisingly tidy, with tool chests, machine parts, diagnostic equipment, and even the occasional spare engine or chassis scattered all in their appropriate place. Stairs lead up to other parts of the ship. The fourth side has a large sliding door leading to the flight deck elevators. On the port wall, Vipers are loaded into the launch tubes to be catapulted into space. Raptors take off from the flight deck.

----< Condition Three - Duty Area >----—-
Contents: IC_Builder Charon_840 Fender_211 FireEater_702
Maintenance Control Nemamiah_109 NewDawn_1744 RAPTOR_214
RAPTOR_215 Refugee_1123 Skunk_772 Sula_337 VIPER_1623
VIPER_1741 VIPER_1742 VIPER_210 Whiteboard Wireless 1118

Exits: [AS] Aft Stairwell [FS] Fore Stairwell
[A] Hangar Bay A [E] Land. Deck Elevator
[LT] Launch Tubes [SH] Shuttle Transfer
Zaharis comes in from Aft Stairwell.
Zaharis has arrived.

Melia comes in from Aft Stairwell.
Melia has arrived.

Rhea comes in from Aft Stairwell.
Rhea has arrived.

Hazzard comes in from Aft Stairwell.
Hazzard has arrived.

Private Potts comes rushing down the stairs. He's late! His boot comes untied and he almost falls on his face and the rifle goes sliding out of his hands to land at the boots…of the CMO.

Three squads of Marines, ordered to muster out in assault gear, hot and ready for action. As the hour rolls in, there's the familiar, soothing sounds. "OH THE READY LINE! MARINES ON THE READY LINE!" Marines begin lining up, prepared to get some. Taking their places, Desusa gives them the eyeball, chewing on a cigar (Where DOES he get those things?) "ALL ASSES ON THE READY LINE!"

Corporal Hazzard of the Magnificent Bastards is sitting on a crate watching the people assemble. Unlike most often when going into action, as an SST member, he is not wearing his ghillie suit but a proper Marine combat gear. Once the call is made, he snaps to action and hurries over, one does not delay when Zeus calls your name.

Zaharis is standing with his small crew of away medics, which is Melia and some unfortunate PO whose shirt appears a little reddish in these lights. As someone's rifle comes clattering down next to his feet, the CMO looks down with a sharply arched brow, then at Potts. "Do you -mind-, Private?" His jaw tenses and he turns his attention to Desusa.

Rhea is getting her snipes squared away. She marches down to the hangar deck with a complement of structural engineers. They're all dressed in damage control gear and hauling engineering kits. "Stay on your asses until we get the go-ahead to move in from the Marines," she tells them. Firmly. Though she doesn't sound terribly pleased about it. "Everybody know their EVA protocols? Gods knows what's actually left of this wreck." She sounds decidedly grim, but there's a spark behind her eyes as well. Almost hopeful. She joins her people up with the medics, offering a tight half-smile to Zaharis.

Gars comes in from Aft Stairwell.
Gars has arrived.

"Sss-sorry, S-Sir!" Potts' shirt is bright red, but people only see green or black. He pushes a shock of dirty-blonde hair off his forehead and scrambles to pick up the rifle and tie his boot at the same time. His skinny butt is sticking up in the air and the rifle lays across his foot as he works on those darned shoestrings.
You paged Zaharis with 'Going to be behind the,'

PO3 Melia Sullivan has taken a knee and is currently in the process of re-checking her medical "go" kit. As Potts ends up at Zaharis' feet, she offers him a wry little smile then takes to her feet again, taking up a position slightly behind and to one side of the CMO. There seems to be an air of comfortable anticipation about her - she doesn't appear nervous, just -ready-.

Hazzard gives an apologetic look over towards the Major of the Marines, before he takes a few steps to the side and takes Pott's by the (red) green shirt. "Just get in line, trooper…you'll do fine." he mutters softly as he guides the Private into the lines of the assembled Marines.

Zaharis stares at Potts for a moment before just looking away. His dark eyes meet Rhea's and hold there a moment. The same kind of half-smile goes back her way, some private communication in that expression before he looks back at the assembling Marines. He's listening to their briefing before he gives his followup orders to the poor medics who're heading in on the Marines' heels.

Desusa starts laying out the operation. "All right, Marines, listen up! We are going in to the Persius, an old Mercury class Battlestar which was set for decomission. Members of the Colonial Liberation Front have taken the ship. she's sustained Cylon battle damage and made a jump out of the hostilities to where she is now. The ships blind and they aren't going to see us coming. She had a skeleton crew when she was boarded by these CLF terrorist bastards and they're getting their dirty footprints on that venerable old ship! We are going to take that ship, secure her, rescue Colonail personnel, and wash those frakking footprints off with terrorist blood! Am I right, Marines?!"

The Marines in the line sing out, "HOO-AH!"

Rhea's listens to all of this with a carefully composed sort of expression. Her engineers listen sharp to the briefing but she must've given them a rundown beforehand, along with their own orders. They're all carrying sidearms but they're far sharper about checking their engineering kits than their guns.

Zaharis watches the meatsh-…er, Marines do their line yelling, turning to address his two medics. "Medical, we will be accompanying first push onto the Persius. Your main focus at all times will be to stabilise the injured and get them out of the way of combat. You will remain behind lines unless you are directed forward. If cover fire is required on our part, you will be instructed to do so."

Potts makes it up and over as Hazzard helps. A long gulp of saliva goes down his throat as the Major speaks. He tries to not let his knees knock together. Thank the Gods it isn't cylons!

Killing humans…Two months ago that were not an alien concept to Corporal Hazzard but this time and age. He studies Major Desusa and then lets out a Hoo-Ah! along with the rest of the Marines. Duty is duty after all and someone far higher up the food chain has declared these humans unfit to live another day.

There's a faintly amused smile on Mel's lips as the testosterone kool-aid gets passed out in the form of Marine cheers. At her CO's orders, she dips her head once. One hand checks the kit, the other her sidearm. Apparently she's this century's version of a girl scout.

Desusa walks along the line of Marines, "We are going into the Starboard Hangar deck. We are securing it. Delta Squad." He points to the purely NPC squad, "Will hold the hangar deck. Alpha and Beta squads will move up to CIC, and secure it. Medical teams will be behind the forward elements and we will take CIC. From there, we will lock the ship down, get out any Colonial personnel, and let the Engineers do their thing with getting off the ship what they can." Desusa looks over the Marines, "We show the big green strutting love of my beloved Corps to these people. Hoo-ah?"

Marines once again, sing out, "HOO-AH!"

Rhea offers Desusa a short nod, in recognition that she copies that. She fusses with her kit some more. To keep her hands busy as much as anything else. Everything of hers is well in place.

Zaharis keeps his face totally neutral at all the HOO-AH'ing. Marines. He also does a check of his kits, cargo pockets, and sidearm. "Specialist," he says, addressing one of red-olive shirted NPCs. "You will remain with Delta squad in the hangar bay. Garrity," Another NPC, a petty officer. "Remain with Beta squad. Sullivan, you're with me and Alpha Squad."

Melia dips her head, straightening. "Aye, Sir," she snaps out in a low, clear voice. She's not as loud as the Marines, but she's certainly as enthusiastic.

Hazzard looks over the members of his fire team and gives a reassuring nod towards each and everyone after the latest Hoo-AH has sounded off. He did check his gear befroe attending the Hangar deck, and doesnt try to discretly check his gears. He is a Marine after all, and doesnt dare to show dereliction of his gear before the eyes of the Major.

Gars has reconnected.
Gars has partially disconnected.

Desusa shouts, "Alright, people, you know the Op and you know the drill, Load onto the Raptors and we're taking a little ride this evening." He shouts, "LOAD, LOAD LOAD!"

Zaharis exhales slowly through his nose. "Swanson." A hand lifts, pointing one medic towards a Raptor. "Garrity." A second. "Sullivan, let's go." He starts moving for Alpha Squad's Raptor, briskly.

"For Zeus!" With that, Hazzard decides to lead by example and is the first one of the Marines to embark upon one of the Raptors, leading his fireteam into the unknown against an enemy of which little is known but the fact that it bleeds.

Rhea heads to the Alpha Raptor as well. Her snipes'll stay planted in the Raptors for awhile yet but many of them give their guns a quick double-check anyhow. A few seem on point of saying something to Rhea as they load up, but they collectively decided against it. The ChEgn says nothing. Into the Raptor she goes.

Zaharis' "brisk" means that the short woman is jogging to keep up with him, though she doesn't seem to mind. In fact, she seems used to it. As an added bonus, it's a way to work off some of that excess energy she seems to continually brim with. Melia's only response to her CO is "Aye, Sir," in a quietly strident tone.

Gars says nothing. He simply jogs on over towards the Raptor designated for his current unit.

Desusa loads into the Alpha Raptor, getting squared away, as the Raptors seal up and launch…

Scene fade.

Scene Entry. Ext shot of a Battlestar, with heavy damage throughout the structure, the flight pod in view, the word 'PERSIUS' visible. as Raptors swarm into the pod itself.

Graphic effect: Test apperas, typing out, 'BATTLESTAR PERSIUS' Duh

Int. Shot. Raptors lowering into cradles from the exterior deck. The Deck is empty, and lights flicker as the Raptor hatches open, Marines sweeping out, rifle barrels tracking. As the area seems devoid of life and activity, there's no instant shooting.

Rhea is silent and tight-jawed during the Raptor flight. The Chief Engineer is not a fan of flying on anything smaller than a battlestar. There's more to that than her quiet, though. Her face is drawn into an 'on duty' sort of mask, but her eyes are alight with thought as she turns over things in her head. She looks out into space as they descend onto the Persius. For a moment, her eyes close, but she forces them open again.

Swenson and Garrity, dark red crosses visible clearly on their brassards, stay close to the squads they were assigned to as the storming of the hangar bay begins. Zaharis' dark eyes watch the Marines in their Raptor move, waiting until most have gone stomping down the ramp before he gives the forward signal to Melia. "Stay down," he instructs her as he starts out after their Marine wall. Stay down, despite the lack of gunfire. The respite, he knows, could be a short one.

One of those marines is Corporal Hazzard, who with his rifle at the ready sweeps over the hangar deck before him. "Mo-train, Savage..secure that hatch, check your targets." he calls as he justs the end of his rifle in the direction of a hatch leading into the adjecting hangar. Seeing no immediate danger he dares himself a glance over his shoulder towards the Raptor. "Clear."

Apparently this isn't Melia's first square dance, given the way she's already down when Zaharis gives the order. She's one of those people who doesn't simply look straight ahead - her eyes scan the horizon, as it were, just ahead of the front wave of Marines. She dips her head to Zaharis in acknowledgement, and follows it with her customary "Aye, Sir."

Desusa storms out with his rifle in hand, aiming, eyes tight. He takes a look around the Hangar deck. Aft stairwell is choked with rubble, and there fore sealed off, Fore stairwell is clear, though there are signs of small caliber explosive damage here and there, spent casings. There was a firefight here. Desusa lifts a hand in a gesture to the fore stairwell, to proceed in that area as the Delta team moves to cover all entry points, securing the deck, the Raptor pilots and ECOs keeping the birds on hot standby for a fast exit. "Alpha, Beta, move out." Desusa calls as he moves, Marines going with his lead.

Rhea stays in the Raptor, as do all of her snipes, in their selected Raptors. They are fixers, not shooters, and wouldn't serve much utility on the firing team. She takes off one of her work gloves and starts twisting between her hands. Twist. Twist. Twist.

As the Marines moves out, Gars covers his sector, rifle held at the ready with his aim steady

Keeping the rifle at the ready, gently pressed up against his shoulder, Hazzard proceeds after Desusa in a slightly crouched posture as he continues to sweep the area before him. As members of Delta moves over to relieve the two marines in Hazzards Fire Team they quickly move over to take up their place in the Alpha attack squad.

Swenson parks himself with the Marine group in the hangar bay, kneeling down and readying supplies in case wounded come back to them. Garrity, a tall young woman, heads off with Beta squad nearby. Zaharis watches Alpha move ahead, staying near-kneeling while the Marines are doing their clearing, and then rising once they start to move out. A motion with his hand for Melia to move to the right side, he takes the left.

If you have kids watching this scene, please remove them from the room because the scenery here is not pretty. The walls lining up the corridors are covered with blood and gunfire in almost every section. A few bodies lay around her and there, all donning colonial uniforms but some of them with a black rag tied around their bicep. Crates of various sizes also present, and run all the way down the corridor.

Hazzard continues to make his way down the corridor in a tactical fashion, trained by the Magnificent Bastards soo many times in the past. The neatly called buddy system of checking your friend as he moves forth and vice vese. "Mother frakers." he murmurs softly as he eyes the carnage that has taken place, the sheer lack of care for the scattered remains of the human race and the sacred halls of a legendary Battlestar.

Zaharis is completely silent as they press forward, his eyes flickering around at the destruction as he stays in a near-crouch behind the shield of Marines. His boot toe smudges a pool of thickly congealed blood, a skid of dark red painting itself along the floor for a few inches after him. He makes a subtle series of motions towards Melia - as they go, check for life in any bodies that aren't decomposing.

Gars moves with the other Marines, keeping his aim down the corridor as he scans for targets.

Melia is already working on the body check as she goes down her side. It's clear she's not afraid to get dirty or get her hands bloodied. Her movements seem to have an almost soothing rhythm about them. A few steps, reach to check for a pulse while doing a visual inspection of the body. Each one is checked in turn. After each check, she scans forward.

The corridor is silent as a tomb, which is what this place is for the men laying there. As the team makes their way up to the CIC deck, the same story is everywhere, bodies, blood. Black rags on the arms of some of the corpses. Desusa lifts a hand, calling a halt and attention. He makes a hand gesture to a black rag on one arm, and signals these people as targets. Once that information is clear, he signals a continuing of the teams progression As the team moves to another deck, following the carnage.

Zaharis keeps an eye on Desusa, noting the pointing to the black band. Body after body along the way, his fingers press against cold throats and he looks into set after set of empty, clouding eyes. He's efficient, keeping his pace roughly the same as Melia's on the other side, and once they've hit the last body in the hallway he settles into a crouch until the Marines move again.

Hazzard looks at Desusa for a brief moment and the information is delivered. In the heat of battle it will be hard to actually notice the black rag on the arm, but then again..It is what he is trained for. Hand signals are sent between the Fire Team, dictating just who will continue to lead the team forth in the corridor. Finaly Hazzard takes the left hand wall, with one man before him and two men along the other wall.

Gars follows the others, rifle ever aimed down the corridor, finger on the trigger, safety set to burst.

Melia settles back into a low crouch when the last of the bodies have been tended to. In many cases, she took those extra half seconds to gently close the eyes of the dead. There's an intensity to her energy now. It's not quite a nervousness, but there's certainly a component of that.

The team continues along the corridor that is leading them to the bridge, crates stacked up as if they where meant barricade the halls. Then, out the blue, comes three figures with black rags tied on their arms like the ones previously seen on the dead bodies just a few corridors down. One of them spots the marines coming down and yells, HEY!!! HOW DID YA.! His rifle comes up and he opens fire at the squad.

Zaharis signals to Melia immediately: Cover. Fingers touching the floor, his boot makes a soft squeak on the ground as he ducks his shoulder back behind one of the crates. His posture isn't that of someone cowering but more like a sprinter ready to hear the crack of the starting gun, sharp eyes watching as the open fire starts on their Marines.

The mexican stand off lasts for about two micro seconds, as the terrorists notices the Genesis/Pandora Marines doesnt wear arm tags and the Genesis Marines notices the people up front are wearing them. Hazzard crouches down into a kneeling posture as he flicks the safety of his weapon and fires down the hall way. "Contact. Twelve o'clock."

As soon as the targets comes into view and takes aim, Gars goes down on a knee and presses himself up against the bulkhead to minimize his own self as a target, picking a target of his own in the blink of an eye.

The new combat medic is, apparently, quite used to following instructions and seems almost attuned to her CO. As soon as he gestures, she takes cover, her position mimicing - but not quite matching - his. Experience vs. youth and all that. Melia keeps low, one hand on her sidearm, one on her medical kit.

As gunfire exchanges, sparks erupt off bulkheads as the CLF combatants start firing and yelling. unleashing streams of gunfire as they shoot, bullets bouncing off metal.

Potts is like a green recruit here. He's managed to make it this far, but he can't hit the broad side of a barn. Which could be due to his hands shaking and the rifle jerking up so the bullet goes *PING PING PING* off the ships hull. It might have brushed the enemy's shirt sleeve.

Zaharis' head ducks back as a stray bullet cracks through the corner of the crate he's behind, sending splinters whizzing through the air by his face. He curses under his breath as the sound of ricochets become apparent, keeping his attention locked on the Genesis/Pandora marines. Nobody down yet and he stays where he is for now, breathing quick and deep through his nose.

Hazzard keeps his fire controlled, firing single shots, from his crouched posture. Knowing that time is of the essence, he squeezes his trigger once more, hopping for a little more effect then just cloth damage to the enemy's uniform.

Gars fires off a burst, but he doesnt notice if he hit or not as two bullets slam into his vest, making him react to the impacts. With the combat-vest doing its job, Gars quickly takes aim at one of the targets that is still presented down the corridor. "Suppresive fire!" he calls out. "Flashbang the frakkers!"

Melia pulls her head in, rather turtle-like, as the ricochet starts. Lips thin, quite a bit, as she listens and waits.

Potts actually hit something! A hoo-ah comes out as he pumps a fist and cheers when the other marines take some out. Until some Corporal yanks the Private down so he doesnt get his head blown off.

The CLF men continuing to fire as one of them takes a round, grunting and at the helpful warning, shouts, "FLASHBANG INCOMING!" But in the nest instant, the other two men go down in a hair of bullets from the Marines. So, the point is kind of moot at the moment.

Zaharis watches, eyes hard and mouth thinned into a line as the last mutineer — or whoever he is — is left standing. This hail of bullets will be nasty. One hand is still held out slightly, palm down, an ongoing signal to Melia to stay put as the bullets continue to whine and spark around them.

Hazzard keeps his weapon trained, waiting for the moment to come. Bullets slams into the walls all around him in the corridor, and finaly the enemy soldier peeks out to shoot. Time seems to stand still, he exhales his breath and squeezes the trigger, sending a single shoot down the corridor. The effect of the gut wound inflicted, is not something seen in the blink of a eye but the enemy's aim is off target atleast. "Move move..Secure that corner!"

Gars fires his weapon, bullets slamming around him, bouncing off the bulkheads, making him flinch. His fire is not accurate as he simply tries to keep his weapon on the enemy as he fires three or four bursts.

Not sure if anyone will actually follow his command, being a Corporal only. Hazzard pushes up from his crouching posture and with his rifle still at the ready starts to run along the wall towards the enemy position. This time he doesnt rely upon single fire, but sends a burst in the direction of the enemy troopers. The red mist that surround the Terrorists moments later as the wrath of Zeus is placed upon him, doesnt halt his pace. It is first when he reaches the corner he crouches once again, if he ever reaches that far.

As the exchange of fire continues, Desusa, fires, then looks to Hazzard, "Frakkin ass back here!" He hisses as the sound of voices from down the hall is heard, approaching..

"Frank!, the frak's going on?!"

Desusa looks to the Marines and gives the 'Cover' signal, pointing to the crates.

From where Hazzard is, he can tell the voices are coming from around another corridor, still approaching.

Potts might have just ran out there, to look around the corner. Until Zeus is shouting and so he stays put. Some smear is left of the CLF guy, which makes the young private turn green.

Gars keeps his aim as steady as he can with bullets riccocheting all around him. He crouches as far as he can, folding legs and torso to become as small a target as possible, clinging to the wall as fires a nother salvo of bursts. With 6 or 9 rounds left, he calls out "Reloading!" and swaps magazine for a fully loaded clip of 30 rounds.

Zaharis breathes some unintelligeable word as the last terrorist literally seems to explode under the storm of bullets. He shifts the way he's crouched, getting ready to move, when he spots Desusa's signal. He gets up just enough to dart forward from one crate up to one further in front, still behind the line of Marines, and he cranes his neck slightly to see in Hazzard's direction.

Hazzard looks back towards Zeus and singals that more troops are inbound. Just about to signal where the enemy may be located, Desusa's order makes him change his mind as he crouched back tracks down the corridor towards friendly forces.

Rhea sits in her Raptor, as do the rest of the engineers in their respective Raptors. Waiting for the all-clear. She's twisted her work glove into a tight spiral and balled it up in her fist. Her one bare knuckle white as she squeezes it.

Given that she's been checking Zaharis for HIS signal, Melia is only a few steps behind him, finding another crate of her own to settle behind. The carnage gives her pause. Yes, she DOES turn a rather attractive shade of greenish pale - but her jaw sets and she focuses forward.

Gars turns to Desusa the moment he slaps the fresh mag into the assault-rifle, eyes alight with fire. "We gotta move, sir! Secure the corner, grenade the frakkers and take them out! We sit here we've wasted ammo if they retake that position! You're gonna get us killed, sir! We gotto be aggressive or we all die!"

The voices get closer, Hazzard just getting out of the line of sight.

"Frank! It's Tom! Where are you, man?"

Desusa points at Gars, glaring at him, and closes his fist for silence, then leans against the crate, calling out feebly. "T-Toooom.. I'm hit.. Fraak.. Help.. Got 'em.. hellp."
Desusa then calmly looks at the Marine NPC closest to him and gestures for a flashbang, then jerks a thumb at the corner, before settling himself in for a turkey shoot.

"Major, there could be friendlies up there," Zaharis' voice is barely a hiss from behind his crate as he sees the gesture Desusa's making.

Hazzard glances back over his shoulder towards Zaharis and stretches the corner of his mouth. "Trust in the Zeus, doc.." he says in a quiet voice before he looks back towards the corner with his wepaon at the ready. Perhaps inwardly curious to why he was called back and another Marine sent to take his place, he is not in the mood to question orders at this point.

Potts grips his rifle as some sweat trickles down his cheek and his hair starts itching really bad under his helmet. He absently rolls his shoulders to try to get the creepy crawlies from running up and down his spine.

"Gods damn it!" Gars growls as he watches Desusa hand out orders. "We're gonna get fragged… They are gonna toss a Nade in our face, I frakking now it." And with that he takes aim for the enemy position, just waiting for an arm to appear and toss a grenade around the corner… simply because the Marines did not secure it.

Melia gives the back of Gars head a Look. It's not a simple look, it's a Look that indicates she'd quite happily find a new use for her medical kit were they not in a live fire situation. Her hand even tightens, ever so briefly, on the kit. But she remains where she is, behind a crate close to Zaharis' position.

Desusa settles himself as the NPC Marines set themselves behind cover, leveling their weapons at the corner where the other CLF forces just died, listening to the sound of approaching boots, and Zeus whispers, "Not if they're reenforcing the enemy. These ain't Marines." Desusa twists his neck, popping a vertebrae as the Marines set up to take the enemy soldiers, who are approaching the corner, one Marine holding a flashbang at the ready.

The CLF men come around the corner, shouting, "FRANK, FRAN-huh?" They have their rifles in a one hand jogging pose and come around the corner, one of them holding a large red 'Medic' kit, all wearing black armbands. Desusa nods and the small metal cannister goes flipping through the air.


Zaharis' fingers snap towards Melia and he rushes a finger by his face, indicating for her to turn her face away from the flashbang as it goes flying.

Hazzard shields his eyes from the coming flash which he knows will come. Once the bang has gone off, he opens his eyes once again and seeks for a target. Medic or not, blood will flow further down in the corridor.

Gars shuts his eyes and turns away from the enemy as the flashbang flies past him. As it goes BANG! he turns back and takes aim at the disorientated targets.

Like a brooding chicken, Mel turns her face, burrowing it against her shoulder - away from the bright light.

Through the smoke, and aftermath of the flash bang the first thing Hazzard sees is the bobbing red insignia of the enemy medic. A double tap is fired down the wall way, and once the salvos are over the insignia of the enemy medic is visible no more..But others are, and Hazzard changes his target to squeeze the trigger once again.

Gars fires a burst as the enemy stumble around in the scattering smoke up ahead, seeing his target take a step back from the force of impact as the bullets hit.

Potts lets off a burst, slamming bullets into the chest of CLF5, but he doesn't manage to take him down. As soon as he has shot he aims again.

Zaharis shuts his eyes in time to block out the blinding flash of the grenade. They're open again by the time the shooting starts. He keeps his head down as the first hail catches the men unaware, watching their first target go down. Sorry, medical bro. He glances at the dead man's red-crossed kit, then back up at the remaining two.

Maybe it was the red medic kit, hard to say, but the medic guy goes down hard in a storm of bullets being fired from the Genesis marines. The CLF forces only know the light, the sound and the pain as Desusa keeps the pressure on.

Potts missed so badly that time, he hit the next battlestar. Still the poor guy hangs in there and tries to keep up with his squad mates.

Gars fires two quick bursts at the target, and eventually the man goes down in the combined hail of fire aimed his way by the marines.

Sending another salvo down the corridor, only to see the silhouette in the smoke lingering from the flash bang. Hazzard glances over towards Desusa. "Sir..We've lost the element of Suprise..I suggest, if our intent is taking the CiC that we utilize speed, before they get time to barricade themselves in or prepare defences..as a suggestion sir."

As the Marines dispatch the CLF forces, Desusa lifts a hand, fist raised. He then sweeps his hand forward to move. "Damn right we have, that shit won't work again. We're moving!" The Marines start moving forward, in step, sweeping around the corner, covering the approach as they start to close in on CIC.

The stench of blood is getting heavy, the sharp, coppery stink of it flooding one's nose and seeming to coat the tongue and throat. Zaharis moves as Desusa indicates, getting up to head swiftly along behind the Marines. "Sullivan," he calls to Melia, pointing to the dead medic as they pass him. "Get that man's kit." And he continues on.

Hazzard nods his head towards the Major, and then pushes up into a crouching advance with his weapon at the ready. Somewhere along the line, as he rounds the corner he notices how two of the Marines under Zeus command has recieved injuries. Yet realising it is not hindering their duties just yet, he leaves them be for now.

"Yeah…" Gars mutters. "Thank you for not trying to blind us again, sir" he grumbles as he moves up with the other marines. "Check your fire people. If it moves, shoot to kill" he instructs the men around him as they head on out.

Great minds think alike? Melia detours for the kit as ordered and scoops it up, slipping only briefly in the blood. All it takes is one hand on the ground to catch her, then she, and the kit, are headed back toward her CO.

As the team moves along the corridor, strewn with more crates and pieces of bulkhead to reenforce them, they encounter heavy reenforced blast doors of a sealed bulkhead, vaccum pressure locked. It's not between them and CIC however, but as they approach, the red light on it starts blinking as the door begins going through a release cycle. someone on the other side is trying to open it. Desusa lifts a fist to halt the Marines, and gestures for the team to take cover.

Zaharis mirrors Desusa's gesture to Melia behind him. He sidesteps a few pieces of debris, taking up a crouched position again behind some cover. The heel of his left hand rests gently on his sidearm, but not drawing.

"Shit, sir!" Potts scrambles for a place to get under cover. He's breathing heavy and he just knows that something is going to come out and kill them all.

Hazzard moves into cover, near the door beside one of those crates. He hefts his rifle and lays it to rest upon the crate which he uses for cover.

Gars ducks fully into cover behind a crate, out of sight from anyone coming through the door. Letting his rifle hang from its sling, he frees a fragmentation-grenade and awaits if a firefight gets going.

Zaharis' new minion isn't about to go against her CO. She's got her contraband - even though she -was- eyeing the sidearms that the corpses can't take with them. For now, she leaves them be as she takes cover, darting behind a piece of debris that likely wouldn't cover half of any man on this mission, but does quite well for her.

Desusa moves to cover, looking around and finding a discarded wrench used apparently to pull a plate off the wall. As the Blast door on the side of the corridor beeps, he stands, and in a hard, sidearm swing, throws the wrench down the corridor, past the doors as they open up, and men wearing black armbands start to come out. The wrench hits a crate and bounces around, making a clanging noise as four men, alerted to the sound, come out and turn away from the Marine forces. Desusa takes aim carefully, checking and yep, black rags all of them. He gives the Weapons free signal, not noticing Gars and his granade friend.

Hazzard is already keeping his weapon trained towards the hatch, and keeping himself behind the crate he stretches the corner of his mouth. The word turkey shoot comes to mind as he squeezes the trigger once the command is given.

Back to routine. Zaharis keeps his position as the Marines start ripping pieces out of the black-ragged folks, the corners of his eyes tense as he watches.

Potts fires like a good marine. He must have his mind on that cute petty officer, cause his shot goes wild and pings off the bulkhead and strikes a crate.

As the shooting starts and bullets begin to fly, Gars pulls the pin to his grenade. "GRENADE!" he calls out loud and clear as he pops his head over the crate to locate the enemy and lobs the grenade down the corridor.

Grenade. Well, that's enough to have Melia ducking back behind her little make-shift cover, well out of the way of shrapnel, stray bullets, and most of the body parts that might come flying.

The expletive that Zaharis mutters is lost in the gunfire, but might've involved Apollo and his balls. He has barely a second to be sure Melia's taking cover and he ducks his own head down fast.

Squeezing off a salvo but aiming low, Hazzard is about to reaim when the call for a frag is sounded. "Frak." he hisses and heaves down behind the crate, since he is darn well to close for comfort to the hatch and the enemy troops.

<Trait Roll> Gars rolls Agility and achieves a degree of Mediocre (2).

Gars spends 1 luck points on grenade.

The CLF men get shot, and turn around as Gars throws his grenade. They're somewhat stunned, not getting what happened, and as the grenade hits the ground at their feet, they start to dive away..

OOPS! too late.

The grenade explodes, shrapnel shredding the CLF insurgents, turning them into chunky salsa and the smoke clears, there's nothing left but more corpses and raw meat.

It takes a second or two, before Hazzard re-emerges from behind the crates there by the entrance. Glowing shrapnel lodged into the wooden crate, and more blood and gore here on the venerable Battlestar. The Corporal looks a little groggy, shell shocked even as he glances over towards Desusa and tilts his head.

Desusa rises, looking at the carnage, and growls, "Marines, CIC, double time!" He starts for the Combat Information Center, which lies down the hall from here, the Marines moving out and closing on CIC, Desusa calls out, "Enter, and flank the entry, cover CIC. Drop targets as they present. No frakking grenades in there!" He orders as the team moves.

Potts begins moving along with the rest, squishing body pieces under his boots as he goes. "That guys frakking crazy," he mutters.

The crate that Zaharis is behind gets blown backwards from the force of the grenade, slamming into his shoulder. The CMO grits his teeth, coughing through them from the acrid smell that stings the air. He lifts his head as Desusa calls to head forward, pointing Melia back to the righthand column of moving Marines. He covers the left.

Melia just shakes her head as the grenade goes off. "Bullets, check. Shrapnel, check," she says quietly. "Marines who live to prove something through better firepower? Priceless." Her voice is fairly low, and likely only audible to those paying attention. She breaks cover to follow along with the right column of moving Marines, keeping herself low.

Gars grabs his weapons and heads on out with the marines, going straight for CIC to secure the objective with the others.

In the world of Hazzard the snapping command of Major Desusa is made in slow motion and the words blurred. But then Marines starts to pour into the room behind the hatch, also moving in a fashion to meet the verbal commands.
Slowly the world winds back up and speed and sound returns to normal. Hazzard blinks a few times and shakes his head before he hefts his rifle and starts to pile in after the other Marines with his weapon at the ready.

The rescue team has managed to take down most of the enemy elements from the equation, and have now taken defensive positions inside the CIC. The leader of the guerrillas has taken Ephraim, a Colonial Captain without a black rag armband, as a human shield and his lieutenant, taken position behind one of the comms consoles. Nobody moves! Or this matherfrakker dies!!! shouts the leader. The logistics captain looks like crap. Seems this insurgents tested all the batons in the battlestar for sturdiness all over his face and body. Yeah! Stai quientos!!! yells back Mr. LT, as he draws a handgun out. Mustve run out of rifles.

Time seems to suddenly slow down for Zaharis, a few seconds stretching to forever in front of him. He can see Zimmermann clearly from where he is behind two Marines, and no doubt the Captain can see him too. His hand is frozen on his sidearm.

Potts comes to a pause and stares at the men holding the guy captive. His palms sweat under his gloves and he swallows hard. A darting glance goes to Desusa.

Hazzard keeps his weapon trained on the man holding the Captain. "Sir, I can take him." he murmurs as he re adjusts his grip on the handle of his rifle.

His aimed at the the man that appears to be the leader of the guerillas, Gars has taken up a position just to the left of the entrance to CIC. "Lay down your weapons!" he orders loud and clear. "You pull that trigger, we put you down!"

Melia, apparently, has no such freezing tendancies. She finds her some cover behind a somewhat taller Marine to one side and peers around from behind him, studying the scene in front of her.

Rhea is still in the Raptor, oblivious to all these goings on. This is probably for the best.

The leader shouts, "You got nothin!" At Hazzard as he ducks behind Ephraim, who has his eyes locked on Zaharis, breath hard through his teeth as the Lieutenant insurgent ducks down behind the Comms console, pistol up. The Leaders voice comes from behind Ephraim, "We're getting a clean Raptor with no bugs, and We're getting a free pass past the Red Line!"

Desusa narrows his eyes, rifle still up. "Your men are dead. Cylons are everywhere. You have nowhere to go. You drop your weapons now, you life to see the outside of this room, you don't, you're cooling meat here and now. No deals."

Family reunions should really be less stressful than this. Zaharis isn't about to try and get any closer while Desusa is trying to talk the crazy SOB down. The hand on his sidearm is so tense his knuckles have gone a bit white. His eyes stay on the hostage as he stays very still. No cheesing off the terr'ists.

Potts has his rifle up too. "What they said," he almost stutters, but keeps his gun level in case the Major calls for them to fire.

Hazzard licks his lips as he keeps his weapon trained at the terrorist holding the poor Captain. Finaly he activates his squad comm, the Majors own frequency. /Sir, let me shoot the hostage..I take him in the leg, will give you a clear shot at the enemy/

Gars changes his grip on his M115, letting the barrel rest against his elbow as he reaches for his comm-link by his left shoulder, and leans down to talk softly, almost whispering into the mic; "Aim. Hostage. Leg… Take out hostiles… Confirmation?"

Melia holds her position, studying both quarry and prey, a brow arched slightly. Oddly enough, she doesn't appear to be looking at gun location - but body language.

The Leader snorts as the Captain jerks, "I got a M57 riding his spine right now, and I got nothing to lose, frakwit!" The Lieutenant shouts, "Yeah, nothing to lose!" Nothing original there. "We're getting out of here!" Ephraim shifts his gaze to Desusa, eyes hard, breathing ragged, "Blow. Them. Away." He hoarsely tells the Major, looking at the man fiercely.

Desusa, shrugs to the leader, "No." He says, outloud, not able to switch to Coms with the attention on him, he talks to the terrorists, "See that? Your hostage wants you dead enough to take bullets." Desusa lifts his rifle, making an exaggerated sigh, "So, that's it then, airlocked with the rubbish it is."

Hazzard simply awaits the command, keeping his weapon trained upon the man holding Ephraim.

Potts waits too, but his hand is getting mighty shaky about now.

Gars aim is steady, his breathing calm, his eyes locked on the hostage-situation, keeping track of the second hostile in his perifiral ( sp??? ) vision.

<Trait Roll> IC_Builder rolls Good and achieves a degree of Superb (6).

"Zim, no!" Not that Zaharis' voice is going to do a damn thing, but he hasn't got time to communicate anything else but those two words. Desusa's rifle is up and the CMO is behind two lines of Marines.

The Leader give off a high, cackling laugh, "You're frakking bluffing!" the Lieutenant behind the Comms console lifts his head, "Yeah you're frakking-"

Desusa turns, BANG! he fires off a single shot, making a neat red dot in the Lieutenants forehead, blowing his brains out. The Lieutenant slumps over the Comms console.

Desusa reaims his weapon, "You were saying?"

The report makes the leader straighten behind Ephraim, looking to the Lieutenant

Potts jerks as the Major shoots the guy in the head. His finger already twitching on the trigger..

Hearing the shot go off, Gars, like most men in such a tense situation would, takes it as a single to Go Hot. And with that, he fires off a burst at the hostages legs in hopes of making him drop out of the grip of the captor.

The Leader looks at Desusa, as Gars fires, and bullets pass through Ephraims thigh, going into the Leaders. The Leader jerks as Ephraims chest explodes outward in a sudden spray of blood, bone and muscle as a jagged hole is created with the path of a bullet passing through his spine, creating the explosion of gore as the Captain jerks forward, dropping to the deck.

Desusa, releases the force of hell with the command, "Fire!" As the target becomes clear, his weapon barking in a high aim.

Potts blinks and then begins firing too, hopefully helping take down whoever is left in here. Unfortunately, he is out of bullets and forgot to change out the magazine. Click. Click. Click.

Gars reafirms his aim on the last of the hostiles and fires off another burst to bring the man down.

Zaharis doesn't have time to shout whatever it was that was right there in his throat. Gars' un goes off, and then a second one, and for a sudden the CMO's field of vision is just a cloud of red spraying forward onto the Marines in front of him. He moves without thinking, only seeing Ephraim collapsing, and as Gars and Desusa finish off the leader he shoves past the Marines blocking the entrance.

The leader gets cut to pieces as Desusa stops firing and advances, "ALPHA, Sweep the room!" He steps over Ephraim, and kicks the dead leader in the face, "MEDICS! NOW!" He moves off from Ephraim, covering the room, "Secure this frakking room now, let the Docs work!"

Gars moves up the moment the leader of the guerillas goes down, sweeping the room as he does, scanning for potential targets.

Potts also works to secure the room, taking the door while the rest work on the captain.

Woe to the Marine that gets in the CMO's way right now. "Sullivan, get over here!" Zaharis shouts to Melia, unslinging his pack as he drops to his knees by Ephraim's side. Good luck working on this mess but he starts anyway, grabbing out material to put pressure on the more-than-sucking chest wound with. The knees of his olive pants are immediately soaked in blood, both Ephraim's and that of the nameless leader lying nearby. "Captain Zimmerman…Captain, can you hear me?"

Scanning in wide archs, Gars eventualy calls out "Clear!" from his position not far from Zaharis and his team.

As soon as the all clear is out of Zaharis' mouth, Mel is on her way across the deck, skipping bodies and debris. She ends up sliding in the blood next to Zimmerman, hitting both knees down pretty hard. It doesn't seem to matter, though - she's already reaching into the medkit for what Zaharis is going to need, as if anticipating his needs.

Desusa moves to the command consoles, working a few of them, switching screens on the interior cameras. "Good. Negative hostiles on internal cameras, but no one let's down their guard." He turns, looking at the Doctors.

Ephraim looks up as the Doctors work on him. Still, the facts in the case are clear. This man is not leaving the deck alive. His chest has been blown out, his lungs savaged, heart holding shards of bone and trying to keep kicking out blood. His desperate breathing accelerates, as he reaches up, grabbing Zaharis' collar, looking at the man. "Promised.. me.. remember.. take care of… promisss-" His hand slackens and he releases his grip, heart siezing up as the bloodflow stops pouring from him.

Potts rubs a hand across his chin and keeps an eye on the outer corridor from the door into CIC. All the angst and sadness goes right past the kid. He's just glad to be alive.

Zaharis has one hand pressed hard on Ephraim's chest, the white packed gauze already soaked through in just a few seconds of being pressed against the massive trauma. The sudden grip on his collar jerks Zaharis' shoulders and his other hand grabs hold of Ephraim's bloody wrist. breathing hard, his face tenses as he draws in a breath through his nose. "Always…Ephraim, I will." His hand tightens on that wrist and that's when Ephraim's grip goes slack. "No…no. Please, don't do this! Ephraim!" His voice has risen to a shout without him even realising it, and he puts both hands down on the centre of Ephraim's chest, pushing down. CPR, utterly useless with a heart that's been ripped to shreds.

Gars has lowered his aim, but is ever vigilant of his surroundings, keeping an eye on the CIC's exits. He allows a brief glance at the medics as they try in vain to rescue the blood-drenched hostage. But he soon returns to his duties, securing the room and keeping an eye out for hostiles.

Potts hears the doc calling out and he turns his head to see what is going on. "Musta been a friend," he mutters to the other marine nearby.

Desusa turns from the scene of the Doctor losing the hostage, then addresses Gars, "Take Potts and Draken, and return to the Hangar bay, rotate out with Delta, and prepare for Engineering operations. Have the Raptors Signal Genesis, Message reads, 'Secure Mission accomplished. Move to next phase.'"

And this is any good Medic's cue. Melia reaches out with one blood covered hand and places it over Zaharis'. "Sir," she says quietly, voice low. For the moment, there's nothing else except the man performing CPR and a dead man. Her focus has centered on those two. The hand remains on Zaharis' wrist, lightly. She's not pulling him away, though it's almost as if her hand is there to still his.

"Please…please." Zaharis' hands haven't stopped, even if now Ephraim's body is moving limply with each press down on his chest. If only the force of desperation alone could save a life. "Ephraim…your /son/ needs you…/get the frak up/!" The man's head lolls limply in the spreading pool of warm blood, and there's no answer. That someone's gripping his wrist goes unnoticed; the CMO goes on trying until the chain of Ephraim's dogtags slip from under his collar, hitting the floor with a soft clink. That's when he finally stops, his shoulders losing their tension, and his head slowly lowers down to a few inches above his bloodspattered hands.

"Sir" Gars says as he is given orders and then heads towards the entrance they all came from. "Potts, Draken, on me" he orders in turn as he head on out, leaving CIC to head back to the Raptor.

The young Private Potts heads out as indicated by those with more stripes that he has. Going back to the Raptor and rotating out with the other group.

Melia's bloody prints are left on Zaharis' wrist when Melia pulls her hand away. For now, she leaves him with his grief and moves to fall in behind the rest of Alpha squadron.

Zaharis' hands close into gentle fists and then relax again as he raises his head. He clears his throat, looking at no-one as he sits back. "Cover his body," he tells the Marines in the room, in a flat tone. "Take him back to the Genesis." One hand stays on Ephraim's cooling shoulder as he looks back down, and slides the man's dogtags from around his head.

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