ALT #384: Burning Wings
Burning Wings
Summary: What starts as a routine simulation for members of the Air Wing ends with bodies on the deck. Several are killed when a bomb explodes at the end of the simulation, with the rest going to Sickbay for treatment.
Date: 25/01/2006
Related Logs: None
Holtz Atalanta Warren Phin Maia Ygraine Greg Jason Thales Leightner 
The Air Wing has access to flight simulators to train pilots off the ground in combat maneuvers and situations that are hard to replicate with regular dogfight practicing and this is their home. A rectangular room, the hatch opens up beside the bank of computers that control the simulations and what is seen by the individuals when training sessions are in progress. The sims are actual cockpits cut out of old frames and installed here to function exactly as the real thing, right down to oxygen plugs for suits. In front of each cockpit, complete with armored glass, are LCD screens that cover most of the front view to the front and above. There are two Vipers, two Predators, and one full-cabin Raptor available.
AWD #384

With the scheduled exercise for some of the Ghosts' and Strikes' pilots and ECOs about to begin, the simulators are a little busier than usual. An orange-suited knuckledragger is finishing a last-minute recalibration on one of the simulator pods, while Major Holtz is seated next to a computer technician at the bank of control computers at the back of the room, putting the finishing touches on the programmed parameters for the exercise. A couple of the Viper pilots participating in the exercise are already here, Lieutenant "Sniper" Spade and Ensign "Wolfman" Dimitri. As Holtz finishes his preparations, the two junior pilots are waiting by one of the simulator pods, conversing quietly — talking shop, if the movement of their hands to demonstrate flight maneuvers is any indication.

Phin arrives on time, though he looks rather rushed as he makes his way through the hatch. Like he just pulled his flight suit on. He hastily zips the front of it closed over the 'Silverstars' t-shirt he's got on underneath. He looks…not exactly disgruntled, but definitely kind of harried. "Hey," he offers to his fellow pilots as he finishes readying himself.

Greg walks into the Simulator room, in his flight suit, helmet resting between his hip and right hand, a light grip kept on it as he looks around, smiling lightly nodding a little as he moves along the sim pods, getting a look at them, checking to see who's where.

Ygraine makes her way just on time herself, she's fully dressed and ready to go, but her hair, already braided on either side of her face, is still damp and smells strongly of her shampoo and conditioner. She shoots a grin Phin's way, lifting her fingers in a brief wave to Sniper.

Stepping in, also in his flight suit, Jason is humming on some old melody as he does. Looking around at the people present, he offers them all a bit of a grin and a nod now.

Its not too long after Phin and Greg slip in that Warren steps through the hatch, helmet under one arm, clipboard in hand, and sipping from a cup of coffee with the other. He gives a nod to the others as he enters glancing over towards Holtz a moment before looking back to the others, "Hey Guys."

Suited and booted, Maia also arrives, helmet dangling by her right hand. She takes the time to look at the others present and greet them either with a nod, a smile, a combination of both. Hearing Warren, she turns and grins. "Hello!" Moving to one of the Sims, she stands beside it to see which of the ECO's will be with her today.
GAME: Save complete.

With helment in hand, Franklin steps into the simulators and quietly surveys they room. She's still needs to zip up her flight suit, and so she shifts her helmet under one arm in order to free up both hands. Gods only know when she's going to have to toss a salute at some overzealous ensign that thinks the battlestar is a parade ground.

Greg moves to his assigned Simulator, nodding as he checks it out. He then looks to his assigned Blonde, nodding as he checks her out. "Centerfold, yeah? Ensign Coulton. I'm in for your ECO." He smiles widely, tilting his head to one side, shrugging slightly.

Phin returns Ygraine's grin with a quick smile. The others entering get quick inclinations of his head in acknowledgement as he stakes out a sim pod. He checks his posture and stands up straighter at the CAG's entrance, but doesn't go so far as saluting.

As the others begin to file into the room, Sniper and Wolfman break off their conversation. Wolfman offers a cheery, "Hey, guys!" to the others, while the more reserved Sniper makes do with a quiet, "Yo." As they join the rest of the group, nods are offered to the CAG; thankfully, Spade's been around the block long enough to know better and Dimitri's been successfully broken of any parade ground habits he once might have had.

Holtz rises from the console a moment later, moving around the side to join the rest of the pilots, his hands locking behind his back as he begins to address them. "All right, people," he begins. "We'll be fightin' in open space over pre-war Tauron." A favorite scenario of his, for obvious reasons. "No unusual spatial terrain, no special conditions. Though… there is one slight wrinkle." A crooked smile slightly stretches the corners of his lips at that.

Warren moves on over to one of the consoles taking another sip from his coffee before setting that and his clipboard down. He glances up at Franklins entrance and gives the woman a nod, resisting the urge to call the room to attention. And then he turns his attentions over towards Holtz as he starts talking about things. The wrinkle brings a smirk to his face and he waits to hear what monkey wrench the Major's going to toss their way this time.

Ygraine's mouth quirks faintly in amusement. "Ain't there always one." she remarks slyly, waiting to hear what the wrinkle will be. As she moves over to Jason, she adds to him in a wry tone quite directly, "Try not t'fly us into a raider, will ya?"

Franklin returns each nod accordingly, then turns towards Holtz. She doesn't so much as bat an eyelash at the mention of pre-war Tauron, which is hardly a surprise. She does, however, cock one brown brow at him at the mention of a wrinkle — a pre-announced one in particular.

Moving to her own sim, Maia looks at Greg, "You drew the short straw, yeah?" A cocky smile crosses her lips as she lifts her helmet in preparation of putting it on her head. She hesitates, waiting for the explanation of the wrinkle.

Greg turns, listening to Holtz, listening, one side of his face smirking, okay, he's ready for bombs strapped to the cockpits of something.

Jason nods a little as he listens now. "Wrinkle?" Unable to hold back the question, he studies Holtz for a few moments now, before he offers a brief nod to Ygraine. "I'll try to avoid flying into anything, Raiders, Vipers or otherwise, promise," he says, words kept rather quiet for the moment.

Phin's brows do some up-arching when the 'wrinkle' is mentioned, but he's also not surprised. He waits for further instruction.

"You'll be testin' your skills on each other, boys and girls," Holtz announces after a short pause for effect, his eyes running down the line of pilots and lingering on each of them for a few moments. "Decided to forgo the usual bunch of simulated enemies, this time, and see how we do against the living instead. I'm gonna break us up into two four-ship elements, three Vipers and a Raptor to each side, and we're going to duke it out until one side's naught but a cloud of simulated space dust." He clears his throat as he looks down at a list printed on a small sheet of paper. "Team Alpha, you're with me; that'll be Dolly, Superstar, Milkshake, and Wolfman. Team Bravo, you're with Colonel Franklin; that's Toast, Centerfold, Sniper, and … Coulton." He squints at the paper for a moment before looking at Greg. "Looks like you need a namin', Ensign." Finally, he looks back at the group as a whole. "Right. Any questions 'fore we start?"

Greg had already closed his eyes and dropped his head when the roster list started. And then his name comes up, yeah name. His head comes up as Holtz catches onto it and he nods, a smile firmly on his face. He's ready for that one.

"Rubaul vs Orion. I like it," intones Warren with a bit of a grin before looking over to Franklin. He smirks to himself as he heads over to his pod, "Lets show them how its done Teatime." He slides on into his pod before he puts on his helmet, getting all set up for the coming competition.

Phin's brows do not go down when the terms of the exercise are laid out. But he nods sharp, then shakes his head at the question about questions. He's ready to roll.

Looking to the other team, Maia grins at Ygraine. "Go easy on us." She winks playfully, the second half of team blonde clearly on the opposite side of this exercise.

Greg smirks, looking to Maia, and shrugs, "Alright, this could be fun." Not that he knows anyone else really, so maybe that will help him in some opposite kinda way. He brings his helmet in front of him humming a little, "Let's find out what happens.." He says, sliding the helmet on.

"Do you remember what it's like flying my wing, Captain?," Franklin almost immediately replies. Despite the question, she sounds confidant, and the ghost of a knowing smile flickers across her face for a few brief seconds. After all, she's been flying with Warren on and off for almost a decade now. How many pilots can say that? She strides towards her mockpit, giving a sharp nod for Maia and Greg to head into their Raptor. "You know the ins and outs of their systems just as well as your own," the CAG says pointedly. "But don't forget that they can say exactly the same."

"Don't break th'FNG too bad, Centerfold." Ygraine calls out across the way to Maia. And while the urge to smack-talk may be great, she is actually keeping herself in check.

Questions going once, twice… when no one speaks up, Holtz gives a slight nod of satisfaction. "Okay, then. We'll kick it off as soon as everyone's in place." As it happens, he's the last one to claim a mockpit; he slides into the 'Viper' and quickly takes the simulator through its startup routine. The LCD screens in each pod flicker to life as the computer tech starts the simulation, and the overhead lights begin to dim.

Each pilot's screen brings up an image of open space, the bright light of a sun — Helios Alpha — and the much closer grey-blue orb that is, or was, Tauron before the Fall. On each pilot's DRADIS display can be seen the four blue icons of Team Alpha's ships and the four red icons of Team Bravo's. "All ships, Storm," Holtz calls out over the radio. "You are weapons free and clear to engage."

"How could I forget?" Warren intones as things get started up. He nods to himself as the call for weapons free goes out after the DRADIS lights up with targets, "Call it Teatime, I've got your 5."

Greg nods to the boss and gets into the Raptor, locking his jawpiece into place, and strapping in, hands flying over the ECO controls bringing the ship systems up and online, readying the station for active deployment sna combat preparing countermeasure systems, he checks ECM suite rediness and power levels, getting ready, lips moving rhythmicly, and silently as he does so, now and then, sending, "Ready." As the combat starts he works the controls smoothly.

Jason whistles briefly as he hears Holtz. "Nice…" he offers, before he starts moving into place. Getting in place, he nods a little as he sees the sight now. "Showtime," he remarks, bringing the Raptor forward a bit, but still keeping the flying a bit cautious now.

Phin plugs himself into the pod and jets off at Holtz's word. "«Storm, Dolly. Copy that. Forming up with you, weapons hot and read.»" He falls into pattern just off Holtz's wing easily enough. Even with the way wingmen have been shuffled throughout the life of the Strikes, he's spent enough time here to have certain rhythms ingrained.

The CAG smiles. Warren remembered, and she didn't even have to ask. She pops her helmet on, locks her seal-collar in place, and begins flicking various systems within her Viper to life. "«Fangs out, gentlemen»," Franklin calls out over the wireless, as she immediately sets her sights on Phin. Through the glass of her canopy, she signals to Warren and Sniper both — with one hand, she points down between Holtz and Phin's respective birds. They're the two that have flown together. They're two that know one another's habits best. And what's a Viper pilot without a wingman?? "«Divide and conquer.»"

Holtz guns his throttle as the automatic simulated safeties disengage themselves, signaling the start of the exercise. "Alpha, Storm. High-low bracket formation. Dolly, take Wolfman and arc in on the high side, I'll come in from below. We'll take Sniper on the first pass. Shakes, ECM suppression at your discretion. Supes, sing out if you pick up a trailer." His orders succinctly delivered, Holtz arms his weapons and bears in on his target.

"Awright, Soopa." Because Yggy still can't bring herself to call Jason 'Superstar'. "I got jammin' up on Teatime and Toast. Let's put breakfast t'bed, shall we?"

<COMBAT> Triggering new turn.
<COMBAT> Ygraine suppresses Atalanta with Ecm. <successful>
<COMBAT> Ygraine suppresses Warren with Ecm. <unsuccessful>
<COMBAT> Maia passes.
<COMBAT> Greg suppresses Holtz with ECM. <successful>
<COMBAT> Greg suppresses Phin with ECM. <successful>
<COMBAT> Greg suppresses Wolfman with ECM. <successful>
<COMBAT> Sniper attacks Holtz with KEW - Moderate wound to Nose (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Jason passes.
<COMBAT> Wolfman attacks Sniper with KEW and MISSES!
<COMBAT> Phin attacks Sniper with KEW and MISSES!
<COMBAT> Atalanta attacks Phin with KEW - Moderate wound to Tail (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Warren attacks Phin with KEW but MISSES!
<COMBAT> Holtz attacks Sniper with KEW - NEAR MISS!
<COMBAT> Holtz has started a new turn. Pose and choose your action.
<COMBAT> Viper-2580v has been KO'd!
<COMBAT> Holtz has been KO'd!

Greg focuses his attention on his targets as he begins working the controls lashing out with the Electronic Countermeasures. Screens flash, hissing, and the gentle voice of Greg, singing, "Sorry, can't hear you, over the sound of your own statiiiicccc.." in a clear resonating voice filling the Raptor as he fills empty space with jamming signals in the Vipers cockpits.

Alpha's Vipers execute the bracket perfectly. Holtz hammers his RCS thruster controls, pushing his ship down before reacquiring his target and opening fire — but sometimes perfect isn't enough. Coulton's ECM bombardment is already affecting their targeting systems when they execute their attack run, and Holtz can't get a clean lock on Sniper's fighter, his burst of fire passing just over the other pilot's wing. To add insult to injury, Sniper's return attack doesn't miss, and Holtz utters a muffled curse as the sim pod's gyros obediently roll and jerk in response to the 'damage' he's sustained. Red warning lights break out over his readouts, but the sim computer doesn't kill his power. So, for the moment, he's at least still 'alive'.

Phin winces as he sees the general direction the CAG and Warren are arcing. He keeps his focus on his chosen target, though. Much as he can, while going evasive. One rarely has to tell Dolly to try and dodge. Or try to. He takes a shot from the CAG on the chin, and it makes his systems flicker and blink in an ominous sort of way. He manages to get them back in his control after some desperate fiddling, but it's a near thing. "«Storm, Dolly. That smarted, but I think I'm OK.»"

The formation that Franklin has her flight in is an unusual one for a three-man team — not a flying V, not even a missing man, but a diagonal line like an unfinished flying four, with Warren riding her tail and her keeping an eye on Sniper's six. Deception is the name of the game, as it's be all too easy to think that with Sniper flying at the front of the formation and him targeting Holtz, that they were out to take down the Alpha lead as fast possible. But she swiftly breaks off in formation with Toast, patiently waiting for him to drag Phin off from his path towards Sniper so that she can drop back behind his tail. "«Nice shot, Sniper!»" Her mockpit rattles as she fires, and the blinking lights that show up on her screen make her smirk. "«Are you sure this is such a good idea, Storm? Last time you took me on, I took you for quite a ride,»" she sings out, taunting him over the comms. Because every last Viper jock — even a woman like Franklin — is, deep down, an arrogant ass out to win.

Ygraine frowns at her systems. "What the frak." she hisses in dismay. Her keystrokes become more strident as she focuses her attention on the enemy targetting systems.

Divide and conqur it is. As Atalanta moves in on Phin's viper, Warren's right there behind her at her 5, angling in. Theres a glance at his DRADIS seeing that blip of Holtz's trying to loop in from below. "«Looks like Storm's trying to bracket Sniper with the others»" he intones as he breaks on Phin diving in hard and lancing out with his Kews, just missing his deflection shots while Atia manages to follow up with her hits. Theres a chuckle as he hears Atia's taunts.

Ygraine frowns at her systems. "What the frak." she hisses in dismay. Her keystrokes become more strident as she focuses her attention on the enemy targetting systems.

Divide and conqur it is. As Atalanta moves in on Phin's viper, Warren's right there behind her at her 5, angling in. Theres a glance at his DRADIS seeing that blip of Holtz's trying to loop in from below. "«Looks like Storm's trying to bracket Sniper with the others»" he intones as he breaks on Phin diving in hard and lancing out with his Kews, just missing his deflection shots while Atia manages to follow up with her hits. Theres a chuckle as he hears Atia's taunts.

"Got it," Jason replies to Holtz, before he nods at Ygraine's words. "A bit late in the day for breakfast, isn't it?" he remarks, before he blinks at the hiss. "Trouble?" Looking out to do his best to make sure they'll stay out of any incoming fire for now. Watching the Viper happenings a bit carefully for now.

Holtz sputters as Atia's singsong voice taunts him over the comms. "I'll have you beggin' for mercy yet, Teatime," he growls. "Alright, Alpha, bring it in tight." No more fancy tricks, at least for the moment.

<COMBAT> Wolfman attacks Sniper with KEW and MISSES!
<COMBAT> Warren attacks Phin with KEW - Moderate wound to Body (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Ygraine suppresses Atalanta with Ecm. <unsuccessful>
<COMBAT> Ygraine suppresses Warren with Ecm. <successful>
<COMBAT> Phin attacks Sniper with KEW and MISSES!
<COMBAT> Jason passes.
<COMBAT> Holtz attacks Sniper with KEW - Light wound to Right Wing (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Sniper attacks Holtz with KEW and MISSES!
<COMBAT> Maia passes.
<COMBAT> Atalanta attacks Phin with KEW - Light wound to Body (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Greg suppresses Holtz with ECM. <unsuccessful>
<COMBAT> Greg suppresses Phin with ECM. <successful>
<COMBAT> Holtz has started a new turn. Pose and choose your action.
<COMBAT> Viper-6381r has been KO'd!
<COMBAT> Phin has been KO'd!
<COMBAT> Viper-9341m has been KO'd!
<COMBAT> Sniper has been KO'd!

Greg nods as he sits forward, "See I can't sustain that, there's holes, tighten it up a little." He suddenly starts typing more seriously, "Or a lot, damnit…." He mutters as he keeps one Viper in his grip.

There's a low hiss from Franklin as she watches Sniper catch one and go down. "«Sniper! Sniper, sing out!»," she cries over the comms. It may be a grame, but it's also supposed to be practice for the real thing. "«Coulton, concentrate your suppression on Storm. Centerfold, call out if you see one of them drop on us.»" She twists in her cockpit, trying to flag down Toast without using the comms. After all, Bravo can hear the comms.

Phin is once again battered by KEW fire, despite his attempts to dodge, and he starts swearing and sweating as he rights himself this time. With a touch more desperation, but he manages. Barely. His voice is filled with static over in the mic this time, "«Storm, Dolly. Hanging in there. I'm trying to compensate, but my targeting is getting pretty frakked.»"

At first, the hit doesn't look that serious, as Holtz's triple KEWs take a small chunk out of Sniper's wing. But it's quickly evident that his glancing shot must have managed to strike the tylium fuel line when the wing suddenly bursts into flames and Sniper's fighter spirals out of its control to its destruction. He grins. "Three on two, that's more like it. Alpha, Storm. We've knocked out the weak link, now let's take down the leader, yeah?"

There's a sputtering protest from Sniper at being called the weak link, but after all, he was the first one taken out.

Second verse same as the first. After the first pass, Warren shifts his angle, falling back in behind Atia once more, but that doesn't last long as he pours our the speed and leads the attack again, looking to pull Phin off his attack run again. He lances out with his KEW's once more, pouring fire into Dolly's hull. Once more he's pulling up back into formation with Atia, before looking over to her and giving the woman a nod there before checking his DRADIS.

Second verse same as the first. After the first pass, Warren shifts his angle, falling back in behind Atia once more, but that doesn't last long as he pours our the speed and leads the attack again, looking to pull Phin off his attack run again. He lances out with his KEW's once more, pouring fire into Dolly's hull. Once more he's pulling up back into formation with Atia, before looking over to her and giving the woman a nod there before checking his DRADIS.

"There we go." Ygraine purrs in satisfaction as Sniper bites it, proverbially speaking. "Come on y'all, I know ya got it in ya better than that."

Maia flies as near as she dares to the two he's trying to suppress. "Doing what I can, Coulton." Hearing Teatime, she checks for the any coming in. «Looks like Storm's coming in at you, Teatime!"

"Looks a bit better now, doesn't it?" Jason replies, with a quiet chuckle, as he moves to keep the Raptor close enough for Ygraine to work her ECO magic. Otherwise just keeping an eye on where the others are.

Warren keeps formation with Atia, working with her towards Phin, till suddently he breaks off, pouring on the speed as he dives towards Wolfman. His KEW's lance out again and, if his target was space he certainly hits. But that doesn't seem to be what he was planning as he works his way back onto Atia's wing once more to continue darting in and out of formation to keep the others on their toes it seems.

Greg sighs as he types, in the Comms only Maia can hear, "No, No Major, no. Sorry, youre not going to get that right now." He sighs, "Yep I gottem.. Static up, oh no, a warning bell!" He makes little staticky sounds effects. as his hands go over the controls jamming Holtz.

At this point, with Phin's "Viper" showing up as smoking on the screen, he ought to be easy pickings. But with Sniper out, Warren breaking off to chase down Wolfman, and a pair on her tail, Franklin can't get the drop. She can't get into a position that she likes. Having to manage with what she can, she fires off a blast of KEW at his tail, missing wide as she's forced to break off with a barrel-roll. The sims do not like barrel rolls, it seems, and she grinds her teeth at the simulated G-Forces.

Phin bobs and weaves and dances for all he's worth in his increasingly beaten faux-Viper. Between that and the cover efforts of the Raptor, he manages to stay alive. He can't hit anything, but that's not his main concern at the moment.

"Nice sound effects back there, Static. You're needing a callsign, yeah?" Maia can't help but grin. For now she, at least, has one for him. «Let's get 'em boss. I'm just along for the ride and the scenery.»

Shaking his head as he watches the happenings now, Jason looks out there, before speaking on the comms now. "You guys are aware you're supposed to hit each other, right?" It's said rather lightly as he makes sure to keep the Raptor in a safe place now.

Ygraine's nose twitches faintly as the vipers start dancing. For the moment there's less chatter and more typing as she frowns at her screen.

Sniper's earlier shot had taken out a bank of RCS thrusters on his bow, so Holtz isn't maneuvering as well as he could. He tries to line up Atalanta's fighter in his sights, but he can't quite keep up with her, and his shot goes wide. He snorts at Jason's dry comment over the radio. "Well, I was hopin' they'd just let us knock 'em down, but I don't think they got the memo." A look to his DRADIS display, and it's back to business. "Wolfman, Storm. Careful, Toast's coming in on your seven." His own eyes, though, are only for Atia as he opens fire once more.

<COMBAT> Triggering new turn.
<COMBAT> Maia passes.
<COMBAT> Atalanta attacks Phin with KEW and MISSES!
<COMBAT> Ygraine suppresses Atalanta with Ecm. <successful>
<COMBAT> Ygraine suppresses Warren with Ecm. <successful>
<COMBAT> Phin attacks Atalanta with KEW and MISSES!
<COMBAT> Warren attacks Wolfman with KEW and MISSES!
<COMBAT> Jason passes.
<COMBAT> Holtz attacks Atalanta with KEW - Serious wound to Tail (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Wolfman attacks Warren with KEW and MISSES!
<COMBAT> Greg suppresses Holtz with ECM. <successful>
<COMBAT> Holtz has started a new turn. Pose and choose your action.
<COMBAT> Viper-8230s has been KO'd!
<COMBAT> Atalanta has been KO'd!

Warren dips out again on another quick attack run, Annnnnnnd….ah static. Yet more evidence that blondes are trouble. "«Frakin hell milkshake. If you're gonna keep doing that couldn't you put up something for me to look at. Nice picture…something?" Oh and there goes Atia's blip off the Dradis. "«First you sleep with her wife, now you're taking her out in the sims Storm. Are you trying to get me promoted again?»" Warren calls out as he hits the thrusters again turning to take a look at the targets ahead of him.

<COMBAT> Warren will attack Holtz this turn.

Greg types faster, raking the Viper with electromagnetic foxfire, missile locks screwed, static over the comms, the door is ajar. Message flashes, landing gear deployed, anything he can do to screw with Holtz, but Vipers are fixed system craft Mark One Eyeball is what it is, and there is a maximum he can do to a viper. They're built that way. Still he is focusing all his attention now on the Majors Viper.

<COMBAT> Warren has changed stance to banzai.
<COMBAT> Ygraine will suppress Warren this turn.

There's a curse from Franklin as her screen blips out and, when she's staring at her head's up and fiddling with one of her conrols to try and fix it, her attention is divided. Her HUD is down, she's riding Phin's smoking tail, and trying to juke left, then right, then left again to get Storm off her back. Another blast — but this time, it's not her canons. It's her mockpit rattling as her tail smokes and she begins spinning wildly out of control. She'd swear, but… she can hear Toast on the comms still, and starts laughing.
Phin pages: I do feel kinda bad, since the combat's now really lopsided. I should bow out to assuage my gamer-guilt

Ygraine lets out a laugh from her chair in the raptor sim. «Toast, Milkshake. Sorry sugah, I don't want th'CAG beatin' me up because I was distractin' ya.»

Phin's ship lurches as he tries to retarget his KEW guns. They do not seem to be doing what he wants, though. He does some swearing, before getting back on the mic, "«Storm, Dolly. My systems are frakked. I'm going to try to jury-rig, but I can't promise you covering fire.»"

This time, Holtz compensates for the slight sluggishness of his fighter, leading his target and squeezing off another burst. This time, it strikes home, and the CAG's simulated fighter tumbles out of control. "Your tail is mine, Teatime!" Holtz calls out with a laugh and a smirk before he heels over in search of another target. "Copy, Dolly. Do what you can, we'll cover you." He levels out, bearing in not on Warren, but on the enemy Raptor. "Alright, Wolfie, cover me while I go say hello to Centerfold."

For some reason, something Holtz says prompts Ygraine to burst into laughter. She's still working her com board, but if she was able to, she'd be wiping tears from her eyes.

Greg takes in a hissing breath eyes widening as he typres franticly, "Oooooo he's maaaaaaad." He ssslides out in a quiet reedy tone. "Oncoming Storm, Centerfold."

"Looks like we're the hot spot now, Static. Take care of that for me, will ya?" Maia grins as she goes into a more evasive mode now, intent on not getting shot down.. for as long as she possibly can.

<COMBAT> Triggering new turn.
<COMBAT> Ygraine suppresses Warren with Ecm. <successful>
<COMBAT> Maia passes.
<COMBAT> Holtz attacks Maia with KEW and MISSES!
<COMBAT> Greg suppresses Holtz with ECM. <successful>
<COMBAT> Atalanta passes.
<COMBAT> Phin passes.
<COMBAT> Jason passes.
<COMBAT> Warren attacks Holtz with KEW and MISSES!
<COMBAT> Wolfman attacks Warren with KEW - Light wound to Nose (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Holtz has started a new turn. Pose and choose your action.
<COMBAT> Viper-1684k has been KO'd!
<COMBAT> Warren has been KO'd!

It's entirely possible that Franklin could try to repair her Viper, to try and pull herself back into the fight. But she doesn't. Rather, she takes her hands off of the controls as her bird spins to crashland down on Tauron's surface. At the moment, she's far, far more interested in seeing the combat proceeds, judging her crew's performance in her absence. One hand reaches up to pop the seal collar on her helmet, which is completely against protocol if there's to be a rescue Raptor headed her way. But fortunately, she's in the sims, not out in the black. She doesn't have to worry that she can't breathe here.

Phin is getting less and less, rather than more, functionality out of his systems as he tries to patch them. He makes a last-ditch attempt to funnel some energy from the comm system to the weapons…which the Viper really isn't in any shape to put up with, given the amount of damage it took. And it promptly overloads and flicks 'dead' on the sim computer. "Frak…" he mutters, giving the instrument panel a smack. That also doesn't work.

Greg sends echoing electromagnetic shocks against Holtz' Viper, which of course is hardened against CYLONS so that Holtz can still fight effectively is a good thing, still blasting channel comms warnings and feedback loops. He's blistering the metaphoric virtural paint off the Viper.

Warren dives on Holtz as he makes his attack run on Centerfold. More static, damnable troublesome blondes. And then theres light hit registering on the nose as per the display in the fauxpit. But also per the fauxpit its saying he's done and he just blinks and shakes his head. "Frak it…Obviously storm rigged these damned things," he says to himself as he reaches up and pops the seal on his helmet, "Gods damn."

Smiling a little as he sees the happenings now, Jason moves the Raptor a bit closer now. Shaking his head a little as he looks at the other ships. "This is becoming a bit brutal," he remarks.

"Good shot, Wolfie!" Holtz hoots as the last enemy Viper's icon flickers and disappears. He doesn't have the ensign's luck when it comes to his own attack run, though. Coulton's jamming is still frakking with the targeting sensors, and Centerfold's evasive maneuvering is good enough to deny him a clean shot. "Alright, Wolfie, let's bring it in." He slams down on the afterburners, closing the range.

"Sometimes these things don't move as fast as my mind wants them to." Maia stays on the defensive, attempting to do all she can to avoid getting hit, knowing she was only prolonging the fight.

The remaining active pods finally go dark as the computer registers the lack of active offensive combatants on one side. Each pilot's screen blinks with a 'SIMULATION CONCLUDED' message, and a score readout in smaller letters underneath. Holtz's canopy slides open, and he climbs out of his fighter, his boots making a metallic thump as he jumps down onto the deck, crossing over to stand by the computer console as he waits for the others to emerge as well.

Greg stops as the screens go dark. "We got our Vipers shot out from under us." He sits back, and twists his head, popping his neck, "Frak." He begins to disengage from the system keeping him bolted to the Simulator. He gets ready to get out and see what happens. He pulls the jawpiece of his helmet forward, breaking the seal, and pulling the helmet off, "Okay.."

Warren shakes his head as he pops the canopy open on his pod and starts to climb out, "Fraking hell Storm. Rigging the sims now?" His tone is good natured as he smirks as he gets down to the floor again. He shakes his head, "Nice flying there though. And hey Wolfman nice shooting."

Phin looks frustrated himself as he climbs out of his sim pod, even if Holtz did ultimately pull it out. He takes his helmet off, running a hand through his sweaty hair. It could use a trim. He's in no danger of having bangs again for awhile, but it's beyond the faux-Marine stage. "Good shooting, guys. Took me awhile to realize I was dead, but." He shrugs.

Jason makes his way out of the sim-Raptor, looking over at the others now, offering them all a brief grin. "Nicely done," he remarks.

Franklin slides her canopy back, climbing out of the mockpit slowly. With her helmet it already off, she tucks it under her arm to keep it out of her way as she descends the steps. Her boots hit the deck with a soft thud and she runs one hand over her hair to try and straighten a few of the wavy blonde strands that have come loose. Green eyes snap up to the computer console and the tech sitting there, watching its blinking board in a moment of silent. "It wasn't anything personal, Lieutenant, but the fastest way to take out Alpha-team would've been breaking you and Major Holtz apart and leaving one of you stuck trying to cover Ensign Dmitri and himself."

When the screen goes dark, Maia's already breaking the seal of her helmet, climbing out of the simulator with it in her hand again. "Yeah. We did." The words aren't clipped or terse, but once out, she looks towards the other team. "Nice job, everyone."

Greg gets out of the Raptor, stepping into the outer room with Centerfold, nodding, openly smiling, and shaking his head, "Okay, now I know what the last thoughts of the Raiders are. 'Oh, Shit, It Won't Stop Coming'" He nods to Maia, "Seriously."

"No worries, sir," Phin says firmly to the CAG. "Shows me I need to work on my evasives."

Ygraine clambers out of her sim machine somewhat belatedly, looking only faintly satisfied. "I don't know what happened durin' that first pass." She grants Phin and Holtz a wry look and leans against the machines.

Holtz makes a quick detour to the computer console, exchanging a few hushed words with the computer tech as he takes a momentary look at the readouts. With the others emerging from their mockpits, he moves back to the gathering of pilots a few moments later with a printout in hand, his stentorian voice echoes throughout the room as he begins his debriefing. "Okay," he calls out. "Overall, not bad. Some rough breaks for Team Bravo, but that'll happen in a fire zone." He nods along with what Atia's saying to Phin. "There were a few — "

But he never manages to finish his sentence, because that's when all hell breaks loose.

There's a deafening noise from behind, as if a thunderclap had sounded right next to them. More importantly, a gout of light and flame erupts from next to one of the simulator pods, sending a massive shower of sparks and shrapnel spreading throughout the room. Wolfman and Sniper, standing at the back of the cluster of pilots, take the brunt of the explosion; Dimitri is dead even before his body hits the deck, and Spade's not in much better shape; the side of his face is badly burned and blood pulses from a gaping wound to his abdomen. The fact that they did take the brunt of the explosion is probably what saves the rest of the gathered pilots, though it's unlikely any of them will be able to completely escape injury.

Moments later, a second explosion immolates the computer board; the computer tech is blasted out of his chair, but the console shields the pilots from most of its effects. And just like that, the room is silent once more but for the moans of the wounded, a cloud of smoke hanging in the air above them.

Announcement: Aria shouts, "For those on or near Deck 2, the unmistakable blast and rattle of an explosion rocks the Orion. Alarms begin sound, their wailing echoing off the walls long before anyone can be heard over the radios."

For several frozen seconds, confusion and panic completely overtake the CAG. Her mouth drops open and her eyes widen at the first blast, and the second forces her to reflexively lift her arms in order to try and shield herself from oncoming bits of the console as she's knocked backwards, slamming against the mockpit which she just climbed out of. Her eyes squeeze shut as smoke pours through the room; with her ears ringing, her head pounding from blastwaves, her senses are almost entirely dead. It's one of those moments when higher brain function simply shuts down and instinct takes over. Fortunately, among that is her training — she's been through combat, of course. They all have. But she lived through the berth bombings on the Rubaul, too. Squinting through the mess, through the chaos, she calls out, "Somebody get Spade!," before trying to lurch towards the intercom, making the wound in her leg pulse and bleed with each step. It isn't until she's reaching for the phone, until she feels the jolt of pain that shoos up her arm, that she realizes there's a piece of metal buried into it, too. She clamps her other hand over it and she cries out in pain.

Phin has zero time to react before the explosion rips through the simulator room. He's hurled to the ground, and for a moment between the force of the blow and shrapnel of debris that fills the air, can't even tell how badly he's hurt. Or tell much of anything else. He coughs, ears ringing, trying to sit up and take a look around the room. Neck whipping around to see what he can of his comrades.

Greg turns to the sound of something when a pufft sticks up the back of his head as a piece of schrapnel hits. the metsl hitting hitting him elicits no responce from him, he simply, crumples in a heap. the headwound switching him off like a broken circut. it might have saved him burning or further damage, but being unconscious like that, with schrapnel in your head? SUPER bad for you, do not do that ever kids.

Routine training sims, he said.. Maia was just standing there beside Greg when she hears the explosion seconds before she sees it. Instinct has her diving for cover, but she tackles Greg, taking him down with her, trying to shield him from the blast. When the sound finishes reverberating through her head, she sits up, trying to hear exactly what was being said through the ringing in her ears from the blast in the enclosed space. Then she sees the wounded and tries to scramble to her feet. Only then does she feel the pain from her own wounds and she slips on blood on the floor.

Theres a nod of the head from Warren as he listens to Holtz start to recap the sim run. Then there's that crack and then the rush of heat of an explosion behind. The firey blast sending shrapnel and flame at the pilots gathered and listening to the debrief. The force of the explosion and the pilots behind him being thrown foward is enough to send Warren foward as well. With the way Sniper hits him it buckles his knees, bowing him a bit as the second explosion occurs sending more shrapnel out.

Whereas the first he was protected somewhat from by those behind, this time he's not so lucky. Its never good when you catch shrapnel, especially when its right in the gut. He reaches out with his arms trying to stop his fall. And it certainly does, but at the cost of a gash up his right arm as it lands on some piece of the destroyed console. He grunts as he hits the floor, "FRAK." He glances around, shaking his head, trying to get his ears to stop ringing as he wraps his hurt arm around his belly. He catches a little of whats said, 'Spade'. Right he was right behind him…He turns his head back, right the mans on his legs and hes rolls himself over and gets to his knees going to check on the man with his good arm. "He's alive…but in bad shape I think…frakin hell," he says.

Jason is a pilot, he's supposed to be flying. Only not like this, as the blow sends him through the air for a few feet, along with sending a few pieces of shrapnel to violate the sanctity of his body. One into his chest, in the right rib area, while another goes into his right leg. "Fr…" he begins, going silent again. It all hurts at the moment. Never, Ever Do This At Home!

Ygraine had been leaning against one of the raptor sims. The force of explosion slams her back along the edge, wedging her between and keeping her from a majority of damage. But one of her legs remains exposed, and she lets out a yelp as a flying piece of shrapnel embeds in the meat of her calf. She cries out in pain, but promptly drags herself forward as people begin calling out for help.

With a grimace, Franklin leans back against the wall to keep herself propped up and reaches once more for the intercom. Her palm, now covered in blood, is going to leave a bright red mark on the plastic, a testament to the sudden and unexpected carnage. Protocols? What protocols? Her trembling voice crackles over the radio system, making a frantic call for assistance.

Holtz is standing up on a raised step, so he's not shielded as much from the first explosion as the others. However, he is farther away, and fairly lucky, which balances things out. The force of the explosion flings him into the ground, his head knocking slightly against the deck. His head spinning, he lays still for a moment, before finally dragging himself up using the side of the ruined computer console. There's blood dripping from a slight cut on his forehead, but that's far from the worst of it; he feels a sharp pain in his chest just below his shoulder and looks down to stare in disbelief at a bloody stain spreading into the cloth of his uniform.

[Intercom] Atalanta says, "Medical and DCO teams to the flight sims. Medical and DCO teams to the flight sims. Deck 2."

Phin tries to jam his sense into making something out of the chaos of the situation, but it's all kind of a flood of yells and smoke. He tries to stand up, and is suddenly aware he was winged by a piece of shrapnel. Which causes an exclamation of pain, and his feet give out from under him. His flight suit was also punctured, blood coming from the slice cut into it. He doesn't look to be bleeding nearly as badly as many of his flightmates, though.

Leightner is dispatched at the head of a Medical responce team that left at the sound of the explosion. Because That's what they do, run AT the sound of the explosion. When the voice of the Cag gives them an exact location, they spring, running headlong at the simulation room, down the hall, meeting the DC teams as they blow the door open, chattering about the vac seals for the deck locking down and negative outer breach and Leightner and a full cadre of medics come into the room intersperced with damage control people with fire extinguishers, sprayong Boroton foam, and stopping the flames wherever they touch.

Wounded herself, Maia looks down and touches her abdomen and leg, fingers red when she lifts them again. "What happened?" She totally can't hear her own voice through the ringing of her ears. As the medics burst in, she just scoots back against the wall and watches, still stunned at what had just happened.

Hand trembling, she can get the intercom back into the cradle — not properly. She tries and try, but each attempt only results in another jab of pain in her arm, so eventually, she slams it down crookedly and sinks back into the wall. The gashes along her left side bloom, becoming bright red pools on the fabric of her flight suit, trickling slowly down towards the debris-covered floor. With her head still swimming and her balance swiftly deserting her, she won't be able to stay standing much longer. Certainly not with the piece of jagged glass from one of the Viper canopies that's buried into her thigh. Clutching it, she sinks down towards the ground slowly, landing with a grunt that turns into a startled cry when one the pods snaps and fizzles from a damaged electric circuit shorting out. It's not another ex— no, no thank the gods.

"Frak, Spade. *COUGH* Stay with us *COUGH" Warren manages out as he shifts around, moving to place his good hand over the downed pilots wounds, pressing down as best he can. "MEDIC!" he shouts out as he hears people around, he's more focused on Spade than the room currently, before he coughs again. His other arm, the one dripping blood wraps a bit tighter around his stomach, also bleeding, as he grimaces, still trying to keep the preasure on Spades wounds.

The medical personnel walk into what looks like a warzone. The blast patterns of at least two distinct explosions are evident to a trained eye; several small flames are still burning in the room, particularly by the computer console and one of the simulator pods, as well as a couple other spots where flaming shrapnel landed. The room doesn't seem in any danger of turning into an inferno right away, but the cloud of smoke hanging in the air above them is slowly starting to grow and spread.

Of the people in the room, it's obvious that there's no saving the computer tech or one of the pilots, a luckless, heavily burned ensign who happened to be standing too close to the pod where the bomb blew. Another pilot, not far from the dead ensign, is still alive, but he is also badly burned and, judging from the pool of blood spreading quickly beneath him, isn't far from bleeding out. A third pilot is unconscious from a head wound, but seemingly without any life-threatening injuries. The remaining pilots are all conscious, but with wounds in various places on their bodies, some bleeding worse than others.

Sitting up a bit more now, Jason's hand moves to the pain in his ribcage, blinking as he touches something, which happens to be the shrapnel there. Letting out a groan, as he tries getting himself into a better seated position, wincing as he sees the shrapnel in his leg as well. "Frak…"

The shrapnel in Ygraine's leg is actually keeping her from bleeding at the moment, and she grabs onto the edge of the sim unit to prop herself up. "Sing out!" she calls out through a bleary blaze of pain.

Phin flails out a hand to grab what's left of a simulator pod and uses it to pull himself to his feet. He manages to stand, albeit only after he realizes he shouldn't put weight on his bleeding leg. "Frak…what the frak happened…?" The question's aimed at no one and everyone. He sounds alive, so there's that.

Leightner runs into the room, sweeping a gaze around and running to the man on the ground in danger of bleeding out, as the other Medics fan out and he claps his hands together as he runs, gloves coming onto his hands with a whiff of alcohol and pads of sponges just seem to get to his grip of their own accord, Leightner does nothing so glamorious as shove his hand into the flow of blood to stop it, point man dives into the wound, gauze and sponges working to staunch as a second medic settles beside, and Leightner says, "Spike him spike him." The medic starts for an IV bag and needle.

When an alarm goes off, there's a response that clicks in to gear. Part of it is Thales' training, part of it is instinct. He runs towards the sounds of the alarm, towards the chaos. He's carrying a medkit. He's not the first on the scene - that's for people like Leightner. He stops when he's over the threshold. He barely suppresses a cough. "Oh. What in the bloody hell..?" He looks momentarily stunned.

With Lightner rushing in and diving in to work on Spade, Warren pushes himself back with a grimace. Its really more of a sliding motion than anything else, helped along by the blood already on the floor. He manages to lean himself against one of the burned out pods as he grimaces again, moving his injured arm to look at the shrapnel in his stomach. That brings another wince and he leans his head back before coughing again, "Fra.aack." He looks up at the cieling wincing a bit, trying to get his breathing undercontrol, before he starts looking around to see how bad it is in the room.

Holtz's head slowly stops spinning as he stubbornly pushes himself to a sitting position, though a burst of vertigo pushes him back down when he tries to rise to his feet. He touches his hand to his head to his head; his fingers come away bloody, but he can at least still function. He stares in disbelief at the scene before him; he can hear the moans of the wounded and the urgent shouts of the first responders, but they're muffled by the persistent ringing in his ears. He coughs as he inhales a wisp of smoke from the ruined computer console, which provokes a fresh burst of pain in his chest. Looking down again, he can see the blood seeping through his uniform, and the holes torn by several pieces of shrapnel on the way in.

The chaos is overwhelming — there'd been ten pilots in the room, plus the techs. And with the flood of medics and damage control pouring into the room, she's losing track. She's losing track of her people — she doesn't know who is where and hurt and how badly. Green flick frantically around the the room as, once again, panic wars with instinct. "Sing out!," the CAG calls, coughing on the smoke as she repeats Ygraine's cry. It's not a request. It's a command, though the usual barking note her commands take on when she's leading a dogfight has been broken up by an unmistakable trembling.

Leightner works on the pilot, working through the blood, and burned tissue, with the other medic forcing fluid into the mans body to keep his heart beating as Leightner tries to stop the loss of blood, which is thick on his gloves, as he twists his hands lithely working to staunch the major loss of blood points, the cut artery, just muscling it closed for the moment. "Alright.. alright alright." He nods as he looks at the man, "Gurney. Nadir is in surgery waiting." He looks around. Triage. He looks back, "for this man. He's the top." He moves back as the pair of medics with a gurney come up, and the medic in the back finishes the report and more medics come, enough for everyone while Leightner, swapping out his gloves, he sighs and As he sees Thales, he points to Atalants, "Sir. There's your patient." As he moves to Holtz, dropping to check his chest wound.

The order of 'Sing out!' from Ygraine and its repetition from the CAG finally penetrate the ringing in Phin's ears and the chaos around him. He coughs and sputters, "Dolly, sir. McBride. I'm OK…I'm OK…" It's more a thing he repeats to himself than anything that sounds genuine, but he does manage to keep his feet.

Jason winces as he looks around, expression a bit shocked at the moment, it would seem. He attempts to say something, but the words doesn't want to come out at the first try. "Alv…" It's all just a mess, but he tries again now. "Alive… Spring… thorpe…" Hopefully loud enough for people to hear, right?

Shrapnel.. it was embedded in her leg and her abdomen and it frakking hurt. Leaning her head back against the wall, Maia can vaguely hear the shouts, the calls to sing out from Shake, but she'll just close her eyes for a moment to push back that blackness creeping in at the edge of her vision. Finally, she musters the energy, "Centerfold, I'm…. alive."

Right. Sing out. Yes he should do that. Man thats going to fraking hurt… "Toast *cough* he..he..ahhhg here" Warren manages out grimacing through it. Stupid fraking shrapnel. Alright he's sung out thats good. He leans his head back again closing his eyes and wincing as he holds his arm across his belly, trying to keep all the bleeding in one place.

Luckily for Holtz, the wound isn't that bad, all things considered, though the pain is still considerable. The shrapnel didn't cut deeply enough to cause life-threatening damage, and it's not in an area containing any major blood vessels. There's a lot of blood but that's about it. The ringing in his ears slowly begins to subside, just enough for him to make out the CAG repeating Ygraine's call to sing out. It takes him a moment to process the sound, but he finally calls out a moment later, his voice a throaty croak. "I'm… I'm here. Holtz. Here," he manages finally.

Even after Thales is given a patient, it takes him a second to get in gear. There's something of a deer-in-the-headlights look about him. But once he's moving, he's moving. He drops down by Atalanta and opens his kit. He does a quick and professional check over for injuries. "What the hell happenened here?!" he calls out, even as he's starting to work at stemming the blood flowing from shrapnel injuries.

"Vashti - Milkshake! I'm okay!" She's trying to limp her way over to the more seriously wounded, head looking this way and that in a panic.

"There was an explosion," Phin vaguely responds to Thales, still sounding kind of dazed. Not the most helpful or descriptive account of the situation, Phin. "Two explosions." Probably not better.

Leightner sinks to his knees beside Holts, "Sir." He says, thumping Holtz in the chest with a styrette that deadens part of his side, he leans in, exposing the wound with a jerk of the hands, before reaching in, "Be a moment, sir." He says, spreading a thick gel into the cut as he pulls out the metal out, and ensures it's clear. He then pinches the wound closed, and applies a direct skin glue to the deadened flesh before strongly applying a pressure bandage, then another applied bandage, this one same ones he uses to tape up peoples ribs, He then looke Holtz in the eyes, "Look at Me Storm!" He says int the Majors face, checking him like a cutman for injuries to the head, and checking on the concussion. "Come on, Name Rank serial number! Give it." He holds another styrette in his fingers, almost as if to show the option he's considering.

"Reminds… me of the mess hall," Maia says, unamused. " 'Cept there was a One, that day." Taking a deep breath, she holds her hand over her abdomen while leaving the wound on her leg to just bleed freely. "I.. I can make it to sickbay."

Squeezing her eyes shut, trying to shut out the scene so she can make some sense of it, Franklin's lips continue moving — counting. She's counting the voices she hears, trying to process whether or not anyone is missing. Whether or not anyone is dead. But as soon as she feels hands on her, her eyes snap back open and she tries to push Thales' hands away. It only makes the pain shoot up her left arm again and she grimaces, bearing teeth. "Smythe," she mumbles at him, hurriedly. "Holtz and Smythe. And… and Holtz… and…," she rambles. There's no mistaking it. The sheen of sweaty on her blackened skin. The wild expression in her eyes. The way she's sucking in ragged breathes. The woman is a combat pilot who has survived a year of war and shot down two dozen Raiders herself, and never had a problem. And now, here on the floor of the sims, she's desperately trying to fight off a panic attack. "Please. Holtz and Smythe… I'm fine… I'm fine….", a mantra she's repeating, despite the fact that she's clearly not.

Holtz grunts distantly as Leightner jabs him with a needle and yanks his uniform open to reveal the wound. He blinks at Leightner when the corpsman starts speaking to him. But his answer, if a little shaky, comes quickly enough. "Holtz, Major K-Kurt Anselm. Four-oh-one nine-two five-five-six-oh." He still looks a little dazed, his features contorted in a rictus of pain, but he's at least responsive.

"You had to… say that…" Jason remarks at Maia's words, wincing a little bit. "Clearly… dangerous…" Trailing off now, he just shakes his head a bit.

"Colonel Franklin, it's Doctor Thales. I need you to take deep breaths and stay still. You've sustained shrapnel injuries." He tears away material from the affected areas, then works with a pair of tweezers to quickly pull out the largest pieces. Then he's temporarily sealing up the wounds. That is, if his patient stays still enough to let him do his work. "Everyone is being attended to. The only thing you need to worry about is staying /still/." His voice is steady and authoritative, even as his body language is a bit nervy and rattled.

For his part, while Atia is mumbling back and forth about him and holtz, Warren's staring at the ceiling. It is, at this point and to him at least, the only thing thats making any sense. Its there, its not covered in blood, sure its a little scorched, and its one of the only things he can really look at with his head laid back like that. At least its something he can focus on as he tries to keep his breaths shallow and even. "Fraking hell…" he manages out using it to help steady him a little in the chaos.
GAME: Save complete.

Leightner lowers his head, looking Holts in the eye fiercely as he speaks, trying to establish contact, sees tie eye responces, and seems to nod a bit, "Major. Stay down. Ye had yer head concussed, an I need ye ta stay down an try ta relax." He begins feeling Holtz's head, he seems satisfied, and says, "He jus need ta relax an take it easy, alright? If ye need ta throw up, yew go roight ahead, okay, Ye might." He explains as he moves back bringing a medic to look over Holts as he strips off his gloves, fresh ones coming on his hands, as he looks about.

"Mess hall…" Phin's eyes suddenly widen with alarm. "When that skinjob…" He chokes on that last word. Wide blue eyes go to Ygraine, then drift over to Holtz and the CAG, who seem in worse shape. "When the skinjob…gods….what the hell happened?" He mutters it almost inaudibly. He certainly doesn't expect anyone to have an answer.

No answer is coming from Maia and she had every good intention of going to sickbay on her own, but she just allows the medic to work on her there instead. As the medic removes the shrapnel and seals up her wounds, she just keeps her head against the wall. Hearing Jason and Phin, she smirks. "Sorry for bringin' it up. Just.. not too often you expect violence on your home turf, yeah?"

Wild-eyed and panting, Franklin doesn't really do much to answer Thales. She does, however, stop clawing at his hands to try and get them off of her, dropping her own down to her sides, where they dig into the metal deck — or try to. Her knuckles are turning white with the effort, and she twitches every time the tweezers dig into her flesh. The twitching, frankly, is not very conducive to his work. Teeth sink into her lower lip as she tries to muffle a noise of protest at the sickening feeling of a hunk of jagged safety glass being pulled out of her thigh.

Holtz nods slowly. "Yeah. Yeah, okay," he replies after a moment, his jaw clenched from the pain. He tries to look around, but whether from having his bell rung or merely from the bustle of activity of the medical personnel seeing to the wounded, it's not easy to make out specifics. He can make out Phin on his feet, Ygraine leaning against a sim pod, and two other figures by the nearby wall that might be Maia and Jason, but the rest… A hand reaches out to grab Leightner's arm, his grip surprisingly strong. "Ati… the CAG… what about the rest of'm…" he manages.

Ygraine determinedly limps her way over to Phin, but not before casting a glance back to look at Holtz. Her expression goes white as a sheet, and her head frantically moves back and forth to try and locate Atia and Warren.

After almost jabbing Franklin in the thigh with the tweezers two or three times, Thales is getting frustrated. He makes a sound of annoyance that he tries to choke down. It ends up sounding a bit juvenile, like he just got a toy taken away. He reaches for his kit and pulls out a syringe. A dose of sedative is pulled into it. "Colonel, I'm going to give you something to relax. I'd appreciate if you didn't thrash about and break the needle in your arm. That would be very painful and very inconvenient. Not to mention a waste of a good syringe. Now. Here comes the viper." Then he expertly swabs a spot on Franklin's arm and jabs in a safe quantity of sedative. It's not enough to put her under, but it's enough to get her as high as a kite.

"I know…" Jason replies to Maia, grimacing as he's tended to as well. "Feels like it's more dangerous on the ship that out against the Toasters…" He winces once more. "Most realistic sim ever?"

Leightner looks to Holtz, "Still working on tha, sir." He moves to Warren, crouching and beginning to work on the man hitting him a styrette into his abdomen, "Hello Taost," He says in a thick Virgonese accent as the wound deadens in pain, "Alright, I needya ta do exactly whot ye been doin, just sittin still." He says as he leans into the wound carefully. He manages to extract some shrapnel and inserts a retrievable blood impaction device for puncture wounds. A tampon. Leightner puts a tampon in Warrens abdomal wound and it seals. He then moves to the arm injury to look at that, frowning at the puncture, and says, "I'm gonna give ye a sling here, alrig?"

Phin extends a hand to reach out and grasp Ygraine's shoulder as she approaches him. Gives him something to lean on, literally and figuratively. His gaze goes to Holtz and those around him as the medic works on his squadron leader. Jason's words prompt a snort, albeit a soft one.

There's nothing quite like an enforced pharmaceutical vacation, is there? Obviously, the sedative that Thales has given her is going to take a moment or two to kick in, but when it does, well, he may as well have knocked her out. The frantic breathing slows, and her expression drops from one of barely contained fear to one of confuson, and then nigh-incomprehension. Franklin is certainly sitting still, alright. And staring mutely at Thales and their surroundings as though she has absolutely no clue what it is that's going on. Granted, she didn't really know what was going on before, either, but…

Warren is just over there, back near where spade was, bleeding mostly quietly. Well mostly quietly, there is the occasional cough and groan from his direction. But he's not screaming for a medic, more of trying to hold everything together. Between the gash on his arm, and the shrapnel in his gut making it oh so painful to talk and breath and the start of shock its he's mostly out of the way. Oh and theres Leightner with the good stuff. Ah good, the Medics and those wonderful styrettes. He looks up at him and gives him a solid nod with a bit of a wince moving his arm so that Leightner can get to his stomach. "Yeah that works, sling works *cough*," he manages out as he leans his head back trying to let the man work and not watch.

"Glad somebody finds this funny." Ygraine mutters. She winces a bit when Phin leans on her, but she doesn't complain. "Sir." she calls out to Atia, her blue eyes wide with shock. "W-we should report t'sickbay."

"Does anyone know if there's further danger?" calls Thales in an authoritative tone. He's back to picking out the worst of the shrapnel from the now-cooperative Franklin's leg. "I need to know if we need to move these people out of here, or if we can wait until they're safely patched." His query isn't to anyone in particular. Hopefully someone will take charge of the tactical situation. He overhears Ygraine's comment. "Yes, yes, by ALL MEANS. If you have locomotive power, please locomate yourselves to sickbay. Shoo, please, shoo."

Once the shrapnel is removed and she's stitched up and bandaged, then given a shot to quell any infections, Maia gives the medic working on her a grateful smile. "Thanks, Slick." She offers a wink to the guy before taking his offered assistance to sit back up. "All the way, I'm going to sickbay." She is helped to her feet by one of the medics and assisted to sickbay.

Leightner nods, pulling a medical sling from his pack and styretting Warren in the shoulder to deaden it, then nods as more Medics come in with mobile gurneys and wheelchairs, "And the backup arrives. Right on cue." He says, as the responce teams secondary wave comes in to move people back.

"I…I don't know," Phin musters up some sort of coherent reply to Thales. "Damage control must've checked…umm…the MPs should do a sweep…everything exploded…" As anyone can see. He nods at the suggestion that those able should move to Sickbay. He's more or less in shape to limp there.

Ah, the sweet release of not feeling your arm. Warren closes his eyes for just a moment to take a breath as that happens and Leightner fits him with a sling. And now talk of rides he glances over, ah gurneys and wheel chairs. That can only mean one thing….sickbay. Well doesn't that just cap off an awesome day…

Jason doesn't say much more at the moment, aside from the quiet "So tired…" right before he slumps back, sliding out of consciousness now.

"Leightner, what's the situation? Are any of yours going to need surgery?" Thales motions to the medics to make sure there's a gurney for Franklin. "The Colonel here is going to need some sewing up, but she shouldn't need surgery. I think I got all the bits out." A tone that inspires confidence, that. He looks to Phin. "Well, we'll clear out. Better safe than blown to bits, I always say. You need any patching up?"

"C'mon." Ygraine says to Phin, brows cinching together as she tries to take on his weight and begin moving toward the door. The sharpnel is still in her leg, and it's still keeping her from bleeding.

Leightner helps Warren up into a sling and into a wheelchair, "Sir, we'll be able to help people move ta sickbay proper now," He nods, sending Warren off, pointing a wheelchair to Holtz, then moves to Jason, getting to work on him and pointing wheelchairs at Jason and Ygraine, "Ride in style Dolly, Milkshake. No racing." He tells them. Gurney or Chair for your patiernt, sir?"

Phin nods wordlessly and moves out with Ygraine, at a limping pace, but now that he's moving more it's clear he's not too badly damaged. "No racing," he promises Leightner wryly as he heads off.

Warren mutters to himself a bit as he's helped into the wheel chair to be sent off to sickbay. His one good hand is used to white knuckle the arm of the wheelchair as he's wheeled off.

Holtz grits his teeth and reaches for the top of the blown-out console he's seated against. He waves off a helping hand from one of the medical attendants as he rises to his feet. He sways slightly, but doesn't fall; though his pride might normally tempt him to make it to sickbay under his own power, this time he simply makes his way to the wheelchair Leightner had earmarked for him and sits down, allowing the orderly to wheel him off.

"Gurney. She's not sitting upright with the happy juice in her veins," says Thales. He spots Holtz struggling and goes over to him once he's slumped into the wheelchair. "How are you feeling, Major? We're going to get you tended to. Don't try to be a hero. You slump over if you need to. You're in good hands."

Holtz's head is feeling better, but even a light concussion isn't going to go away in just a few minutes. His head is still bobbing a bit from the residual vertigo of his short trip to the wheelchair. He does, however, manage a jerky nod in Thales' direction. "Been better, Doc," he manages after a short pause. There's a look over at the blood stain where Sniper's body had lain before he was rushed to sickbay, and he shakes his head. "Coulda been… helluva lot worse though, yeah?"

And with that, the orderly wheels him out.

Serving as the ship's primary care facility, the Medical Center is a rather large, single room structure that has the same load-bearing structures to the walls that the halls do, as well as the same heavy hatch. There is a desk at the entrance staffed by a nurse as well as a small locker for single dose drugs like aspirin. Beds are lined up along each wall with EKG's and hangers for IVs in case of triage. Large cabinets at the rear provide ready access to lifesaving medicines and gear, as well as a ready supply of defibrillators. Not far from the primary entrance is the Chief Medical Officer's office and on the other side is a small hatch to the recovery ward. Towards the rear is a sectioned-off examination area. Opposite the hatch to recovery is a sealed doorway leading down a hallway to the ship's morgue.
AWD #384

Once Thales is in sickbay, he seems to be in his element. The hesitation that was present in the accident zone all but evaporates. He's moving about efficiently, directing nurses and other medical staff to attend to the casualties. He then goes towards Holtz. "Get him up on the bed. I've got to remove the shrapnel fragments. Major, look at me, please." He pulls out a pen light and checks his pupils for concussion.

Warren sits on his bed discussing with the nurse in a rather vigorous manner, "No no. I'll be fine. *cough cough* Seriously, they're just scratches. I'll be fine. No its ok. *cough* I can go, really. Come on…" For someone with a tampon sealing up the shrapnel wound, and is decidedly not ok, he's being rather insistant he is fine, and can totally go from sickbay.

Phin makes it to Sickbay with Ygraine, and is steered over to a spot to rest until a medic can see to him. He's far from the highest priority, as the triage is going. He's managed to unzip his flight suit. He's still wearing his Silverstars shirt underneath. It got a rip in the front where the shrapnel penetrated it. Didn't go too deep, but he frowns at the torn shirt.

When his wheelchair stops by the bed, Holtz heaves himself out of the seat, bracing himself against the side of the bed as he slides onto the thin cushion, his hands reaching for the edges to hold himself in place. He looks straight ahead when Thales moves to examine him; his pupils are dilated slightly. Definitely a concussion, if only a mild one. The shrapnel wounds on his chest are still bleeding, though the bloodflow has seemed to slow slightly; at least, the bloodstain on his ruined uniform doesn't seem to be getting much bigger.

"I'm sure it can be fixed." Ygraine is quick to assure Phin, even as a medic tends to her. They have to cut away at the flight suit and into the leg of her pants so they can get the shrapnel out of her right leg. She blinks rapidly when they pull it out and the blood that was held in place by it begins to flow before it's swiftly staunched.

Leightner moves Jason in on the gurney, and lets him be taken reporting on the mans condition and allowing the other doctors to take care of him before stepping out and to scrub up as he is going through in his head the list of the injured and the wounded as far a s he knows it. He looks to the condition inidcator and tilts his head to the side, then keeps scrubbing.

"Huh," Phin looks up from pondering his poor t-shirt, shrugging kind of sheepishly at Ygraine. "Yeah. I mean, I shouldn't wear it on duty anyway, but with the suit on nobody notices…" He takes it off anyway, when the medic asks him to. There's a cut on his chest, not far from the area where he still has the surgical scar from his post-Caprica adventures. But this is a shallow one. Probably won't even require stitches. "I hope Storm's OK…was the CAG hurt? I couldn't really make any sense of what was going on…gods everything just exploded…."

As soon as the casualties are rolled in, Jena moves in for one that looked untreated so far. Warren. Offering him a warm and gentle smile, she walks over to his bed. "I'm Jena Cruz." Reaching for the offending arm, the one with the shrapnel. "Let me look you over before anyone decides if you can go or not." She speaks patiently, nothing but kindness in her eyes. "How is your hearing?" Gloved fingers deftly begin working opening his flight suit to bare the wound on his abdomen, a syringe offering a deadener before she notices his other injury. "Looks like a few places." The arm comes last though.

The CAG is most definitely alive. She's in medbay, in fact, currently laid out on a gurney and staring blankly up at the ceiling, too doped up to really fight through the fog of drugs, let alone the chaos of what exactly happened to them. There's the occasional flurry of blinking from Franklin as she tries to process something, or turn towards a sound, or blatantly addressed by the medical crew. But for the most part, she's just laying there on the white sheets that still-sticky, not quite dried blood on her flightsuit is rubbing into, her face a mask of nigh-indifference as they bury more gleaming medical instruments into her arm and her leg.

"Jena, pleasure. I'm fine though. Right as rain in the morning. Really…" Warren says in response to things. Obviously thats an out and out lie and he looks more than a little anxious to get out. But yeah wounds, the shock of it all…sickbay…he just doesn't look anywhere near as comfortable as the CAG is.

"You think it was the skinjobs again? Like in the Mess Hall? Like when Redux…" Phin swallows, making himself stop talking. He's still on the edges of shock himself. He gets his chest wound cleaned and bandaged, and is then informed they'll need to cut into the leg of his flight suit to check his leg. He nods wordlessly and tries to stay still while the medic does that.

Leightner moves up to Ygraine and smiles, "Alright, Milkshake, let's get ye sittin down an have us a look at ye leg, hmm?" He starts guiding her, soothingly to a medical bay.

"Of course you are, you're a pilot. Pilots are always fine," Jena's lips quirk into a lopsided smile. "But I have all these rules I have to follow and in order to stay out of trouble with the Captain, I can't let you go." Bringing out large, tweezer like instrument, she focuses on his abdomen, and the bit of shrapnel embedded there, plucking it out much easier than she thought she would. It makes a metallic tink sound as she drops it into the tray. Quickly and deftly, she stitches up the wound before looking towards his face to see how he was faring. "Looks like something pretty bad happened. Do you remember anything?"

Holtz is pale as he stretches out onto the medical bed, though his breathing is regular, if heavy with pain, and he doesn't seem to be having any problems staying conscious. His shredded uniform jacket and undershirts have been removed, and he lies on the bed in silence as he waits for his turn to get the shrapnel plucked out of his chest wound.

Ygraine blinks up at Leightner, looking down at her now torn away pantsleg. "Can ya look me over here?" The shrapnel's been removed, and she looks over at Holtz. "Kurt," she calls out, but doesn't seem to have a follow up for it.

Leightner checks that Ygraines properly settled as a doctor moves to Holtz to begin treating him, and Leightner gets an instrument tray, moving past Jena and setting it within reach of her, having gotten a look at Warren earlier, she'll need it, and the man moves to assist with Holtz getting his chest sewen back up once more.

If it wasn't for the styrettes that have been used to pretty much deaden his nerves for a moment he'd probably be a bit worse off. He sighs and looks up at the ceiling. Yes focus on something else. "I'm fine..ah," he says focusing, little paler now. He closes his eyes a moment, taking a few shallow breaths as his good hand white knuckles the side of the bed. "explosions, in the simulators. gods damned Rubaul all over agian. Fraking knew they shoulda spaced that fraking skinjob…frak," Warren manages to ramble out quietly, but tensely.

Phin flicks a side look at Ygraine, then his eyes track toward Holtz. He doesn't say anything himself, though. He'll be a pretty passive patient, for his part. Though he might start asking if he can go to his own bunk when the medics are done with him.

Holtz is pale from the loss of blood, and he's clearly in pain, but he's not totally out of it. His head turns at the sound of his name, blurry eyes swiveling in Ygraine's general direction. "Shakes," he calls out, his voice slightly muffled but understandable. "Here… 'm all right." It might be a slight overstatement for the moment — he's proud, even for a Tauran — but it's doubtful he's in any real danger, thanks to the quick ministrations of the medics. Then Leightner's there, and his gaze shifts to the corpsman as the other man starts to fix him up.

Applying an antibiotic spray to the wound, Jena doesn't bandage it right away. Instead she goes for his arm, wincing at the mess there. Looking up briefly as the tray is delivered nearby, she gives Leightner a quick and grateful smile. "Thank you," she murmurs. Her attention goes fully back to Warren then and she nods almost absently as she focuses on the bit of shrapnel embedded almost to the bone. Ouch, that's gonna leave a mark. "Take deeper breaths and when I extract this piece, remember to breathe, it's not going to feel good and I don't want you to pass out." Mentions of exploding simulators causes her brows to furrow. "That's bad news. I'm sure they'll work on deciding the how and why of it." While she talks and has him hopefully distracted, Jena goes for the extraction, removing it in one quick motion.

Leightner nods to Holtz as the man captures his attention, "Aye Major. Here we are again." He says as another local is applied, and the pain is eased somewhat, "We're keepin ye off Morpha cuz o ye head but we got good locals, an we'll have a look at ye skull a bit later, jus ta make sure it's all thar. Don't worry, I won't let tha CAG mess wit tha results."

"You try taking deeper breaths with a gut wound," Warren says tersely through a clenched jaw. Nope, he's not alright despite his protests ealier, and its certainly showing on his face which is a bit more pale. It was a bit before Lightner had gotten to him, but there were other more pressing injuries to deal with, and he had been bleeding quite a bit. Mental shock, physical shock. Its all settling in now, in his oh so 'favorite' portion of the ship. And then theres Jenna digging bits and pieces out of him which just makes him tighten up more.

"Ain't the first time… I got m' bell rung," Holtz mutters. "If somethin's missin, I could tell." There's a quiet sigh as the pain slowly begins to dissipate thanks to the anaesthetic. He musters up a chuckle at the corpsman's last; his sense of humor hasn't left him, at least. Probably a good sign. The laugh dies quickly, though, as something occurs to him. "How's she doin'?" he asks Leightner, in reference to the CAG.

Leightner nods to Holtz, "She were sliced up pretty good, nothing unprecidented, but she'll be wit us fer a bit. An I thought Marines trained hard, whot ye got packed in them Simulators, eh?" He smiles, looking to the Doctor working on Holtz, then back to the man, seeming satisfied.

Taking no offense to the tersely spoken words, Jena continues holding his arm with one hand while extracting another piece of metal. Tink. That was it. She works on sewing closed the wound now, her face a study of concentration. "Almost finished," she assures in that same quietly spoken voice. Once she's placed the last stitch, she applies the antibiotic and begins bandaging his abdomen wound first. "Suck in a little, the bandage can help support you for now, just a little." Applying it so it holds the incision together nicely.

Breath. Suck it in a little so I can get you better. The nerve of medical staff these days. Warren doesn't say anything though, just grits his teeth and bears it as he stares at the ceiling. Well…that and hold onto the bed with his good hand as if his life depended on doing so.

Holtz grunts as the doctor starts removing jagged chunks of metal and shards of glass from his chest. There's not really any pain to speak of, though; Leightner wasn't lying about the quality of their anaesthetics. Even so, his teeth clench reflexively as he replies. "Yeah," he says quietly. "Usually ain't somebody tryin' to blow us up while we do it, though." The words themselves might seem light-hearted, but there's nothing but bitterness tinged with pain in his tone.

Leightner takes a pan and moves to the Doctors side, taking the pieces of metsal with that satisfying 'Tink tink' sound. "Well, hopefully someone get ta tha bottom o whats goin on." He says, recieving the pieces opf metal pulled from Holtz flesh.

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