MD #098: Charlie Foxtrot - CIC
MD #098: Charlie Foxtrot - CIC
Summary: Sabotage and mutiny divert the Orion's jump from Piraeus to near the galactic core.
Date: Fri 14/Jul/2017 (OOC Date)
Related Logs: None.
Adeliza Latif Leander Lleufer Mara 
Petra Robin Samtara Samuel 
CIC
The Combat Information Center is the tactical heart of the ship. This CIC is designed in a circular formation, the original Admiral apparently a fan of the classical set-up. Dead center are a set of large monitors suspended from the ceiling with DRADIS readings as well as other vital shipboard information. Under this is a small map table outlining current plots and positions. The table has electronic and minor holographic display capability but the old map charts are kept up to date and stored nearby. The table has a built-in phone as well as smaller displays relating to critical damage reports. Both port and starboard watch stations are set at all times, in two rows of tiers like stadium seating, one above the other. Each station has a purpose — Helm, Weapons, Communications, Electronic Warfare, Damage Control, and further tactical monitoring. More displays and banks of computer monitors line the walls. This area is heavily guarded by armed Marines at all hours of the day and night.
Mon Jan 29 2029 (IC Date)

The Orion Battlegroup, along with Arpay Carrier Strike Group 13 are slated to rotate out from Calumet in a few minutes. After two month at Calumet, its time to head back to Piraeus for two weeks. CSG-13 is slated to head back to Arpay and are just finishing their send-off with plans to rendezvous back at Piraeus in fourteen days before returning to Calumet. The ships are just getting into formation and preparing to FTL into the wormhole generated by the massive Carrier. They can all watch it on DRADIS as they move together, getting into the slot.

The CIC is busy and access to Deck Two, Fore, has become highly restricted. All ID cards are checked and displayed. With the Command Staff all in CIC and preparing for a jump back home after two months of warfighting, nobody is taking any chances. Roving Marine fireteams have a double presence and CIC is just locking the doors before the jump.

The navigation officer, a Petty Officer First, looks up to the Command Table, "Sirs, FTL and Wormhole Drives are all in the green. The battlegroup reports that they are showing green across the board for their FTL into the lane once we generate. Estimated time of travel is forty-one minutes to Piraeus, sir." Its as ready as they are going to be.

Her usual, expressionless, unwelcoming, silent self, Lieutenant Rook has been lurking in her usual corner of CIC most of the 'day'. Surrounded by piles of paperwork, both figuratively and literally, creating a largely invisible barrier between herself and everyone else in the room. Mara's gloved fingers tap busily at her keyboard, eyes barely lifting even as command staff start appearing. It's only when the Nav officer gives the ready that she finally pushes to her feet, snags her long cold coffee cup and heads for a refill before the actual jump.

Lleufer has his assigned Watch duty up here this shift, and has been checking on the assigned fireteams to make certain everything is running smoothly. Ynyr is in combat blacks with his MP brassard, sidearm but no rifle. A few last words with a couple of MP's who have the watch outside of the hatch before he steps through and into CIC. Very quietly the Master-at-Arms looks to see if Leander and the new guy, Samuel, are at their stations yet up here for the jump. Then the Gunnery Sergeant takes up a position along a bulkhead to stand his watch in silence, out of the way of the busy officers.

Petra takes in a deep breath and lets it go as he listens to the chatter going around the room, muttering automatically, "Thank you, Petty Officer. Make sure the jump clocks are synchronized so we don't ram our nose into someone's engine come out of it…hate to finish a good run on an 'oops'" He shoots a glance around then arches a brow at Robin with just the faint elevation of his voice, "Jump on the Admiral's go." Very caaaaasually, he tugs the vest of his blues tight, reaches out to hold on to the edge of the central table.

Latif is at his station, pecking away at his duties and sipping coffee. His is, at the moment, more lukewarm than cold…ironically either heat or ice might help it now. But it's keeping him awake and working and that's what matters.

Wearing a crisp white lab coat over her uniform, the coat as devoid of any insignia or name like any other lab coat, but the CMO is easily recognizable for many who have been wounded a time or two, or more, and the Colonel has her ID ready in hand. Her other hand, however, is curved under the elbow of Lt. Wynn at whose side she is moving at a marked - if carefully slow - pace. Colonel Stone has some clearly defined rules relating to the roaming of wounded personnel, and seeing that her patients are properly escorted when they're determined to be about is just one of those stubborn points she's know for.

Not usually one to sit, as there's much to be done, Lt. Wynn, in the prep time, had taken a quick break, sitting at a station, her crutch propped against it. She only really uses it during the long hauls through the corridors of the ship, while in CiC she uses the chair backs, desks, tables, etc, when needs be. She had probably been on her feet a bit more than the doctor's orders in the preparation, and the moment of respite was much needed. However, at the green alert, she pushed herself up immediately, trying not to limp too much as she made her way to her spot at the command table. Off to Petra's right a little, not the closest to him, and using her right hand to steady herself as the left arm is in a sling, she steadies her eyes on the readouts above them, listening and readying for the command to jump. At Petra's words, she looks towards the Admiral, waiting, her eyes shutterred.

Private First Class Jacob Leander, Marine MP, is on the job. The young Leonese is in the usual shipboard security gear, complete with MP brassard on one arm. A relatively new face on the Orion, he's motivated and doing the best job he can, even on simple guard duty. Whether that is commendable or a nuisance depends on if you've forgotten your ID today or not. Posted by the entrance, the Private is preparing to close and secure the hatch. All by the book. Lleufer being one of the last ones inside, Leander gives his boss a quick nod and gets on with shutting the door.

Said new guy has a decidedly neutral face as he moves along with his fireteam. Samuel is new to the Orion, having gotten off the boat a day ago at most… and seeing the CiC for the first time immediately that deer-in-headlights look turns into intense curiosity as he continues onward. The private evenually hits his station though, and moves into a ready position as he listens.

Rear Admiral Io is at the command table in the heart of CIC, pulled back away enough to personally check the DRADIS readings overhead. She's dressed in her blues, well pressed, holding a cup of Petra's jet fuel grade coffee. Her head swivels towards the navigation officer, giving her a nod. "Indeed, Petty Officer. Thank you." Robin waits, not immediately giving the go ahead as Petra dots their i's and crosses their t's. Eyes back on DRADIS, her favorite program to watch as Petra knows, her focus is on the operation at hand, not so much the extra security about the place. About twenty seconds after the last double checks are done, she finally steps forward and says, "Execute jump."

The PO1 goes about his business, checking the position of the other ships and relays comms to standby on all ships. Up on the DRADIS displays they watch CSG-13 open their drive. The cameras on the outside of the Orion capture the display as the wormhole opens and then the ships wink away into the lane to head for home. Everyone needs time off. It only takes a minute or so before the Petty Officer signals final readiness to Admiral Io. She says 'Execute Jump' and he blinks, then looks down and begins the process.

Deep within the ship's engineering spaces, the large wormhole drive begins spinning and the energy generates a very low frequency hum that resonates through the dense, armored structure of the Orion. The device's power readings climb to match the expected points and on the cameras, they can see the wormhole generate out ahead of the fleet. "Orion Battlegroup. Jump as briefed. Orion in the lead. Three. Two. One. Orion, out." Radio comms through the jumps are impossible and the Orion goes dark as the ship jumps. The FTL kicks them into the wormhole and on the external nose camera they can see curved space flowing past them faster than the speed of light. Its always a beautiful lightshow.

"We're in the lane, sirs. ETA Piraeus, forty minutes… mark." The Petty Officer looks at his screens and seems satisfied.

Mara is back in her seat before the Orion actually jumps, barely taking the time to acknowledge anyone as she makes the short trip from the coffee machine to her claimed work station. Coffee full, she settles in and goes back to work, not taking the time to watch the light show, no matter how pretty it is, the Rook is apparently not very interested in all that.

Petra loosens his hold on the table once the drive has kicked in and the ancient giant hunk of war machine has lurched itself into the wormhole, and let the breath he had been holding, go, "Thank you, Petty Officer. Acknowledged, arrival Piraeus, 40 minutes." He eyes Robin's mug for a moment and murmurs, "Knew I forgot something," the faintest of smirks touching his face before he leans his rump back against the console behind him, and shifts his gaze up at DRADIS and the accompanying status screens, then murmurs under his breath, "First round at Charlie's is on me this time."

Leander gets the hatch secure and goes to an easy parade rest, flanking the door beside the locks. He's never been in the CIC for a jump, so he's watching the show with interest. That right there? Pretty frakking cool, and not something most people ever get to see.

Lleufer watched Samuel come in, and Leander seal the hatch, then also take his station. The Master-at-Arms shifts his gaze to allow his eyes to follow Mara as she gets her coffee. A subtle nod to her though Rook may or may not catch it before she resumes her seat. Then Ynyr's attention is briefly for the jump, before he goes back to studying people's faces and what they are doing. Standing a Watch can be boring as hell for an MP, but jumping the Orion through a wormhole and heading home? That spices it up with anticipation to see his wife and his youngest son. There is the barest hint of a smile on his face as he idly fingers his wedding band on his left hand with this thumb. And then, for some reason, Ynyr blinks a few times and loose his smile. Lleufer glances around as if looking for someone, or something.

Latif is also enjoying the light show. Really, at this exact moment there's nothing super-duper time sensitive for him to do, so he takes a sip of the coffee and mentally goes 'Oooh, pretty'.

Robin braces as she was trained to do so long ago, now just one of the many habits that have been drilled into her, and she has now in turn drilled into others over the years. Her grip loosens about the same time as Petra's. Unconscious synchronization. They work too much together. Io looks at the TACCO as he eyes her mug, then looks down at it. "You're so unprepared," she says with flatly, the sarcasm playing in her eyes. At Petra's offer, Robin lifts her mug and takes a sip before saying, "Forgiven," as if the lack of his coffee is some kind of ineptitude to be rectified. A little smirk sneaks in at the edge of her lips as she takes a breath and looks around the CIC at all the mix of familiar and some unfamiliar faces.

Having escorted the Lt to the CIC, Col. Stone had remained, ostensibly to keep an eye on Lt Wynn with the clear intention to allow only this limited excursion and back to the recovery ward in a much shorter time span than the Lt was actually negotiating for. Datapad in hand, Sam is keeping a careful eye on her patient while standing out of the way, a nose count in the room has her composing a memo regarding a maintenance check up of all the scrubbers, tapping her way through the memo and eyeing maintenance schedules in advance of making this pitch.

The display of the worm hole still hasn't become old for Adeliza, and she watches, almost holding her breath as each of the units head to Piraeus. When the PFC announces the estimated arrival time to Piraeus, and then it's confirmed by the Commander, her shoulders relax a little, easing a hunch she didn't realize was there. Her expression becomes less tense, as well, and she takes a moment to glance around at others in the Command Center, skittering a little guiltily past Dr. Stone, and then past Ynyr as well. She does grin a little at the teasing between the Admiral and Petra, and gives a roll of her head on her neck, loosening up.

Time passes. Five minutes. Its pretty routine. The Petty Officer First can't leave his station and accepts a cup off coffee graciously from another enlisted, keeping his attention on the lane. He finishes a sip of his mug and lifts his voice after more time passes, "Sirs, we are twenty-five minutes from Piraeus… Mark." Everything seems to be proceeding well. But the radios of the Marines buzz on their tactical frequency.

"Master at Arms, Fireteam Charlie-One-Two." Its Richards, the Corporal leading a patrol up near the Gun Gallery on Deck One.

The wormhole display has Samuel staring at it. "Wow…" is all he can really say as he stands there as stationed security.

Ynyr has sharpned his attention, alert to something and is looking around CIC without leaving his Watch post. But Lleufer's eyes are roaming, watching closely and listening for something. Maybe hears something over his radio because the Gunner Sergeant speaks very low, "Fireteam Charlie-One-Two, Ynyr here. Go."

Petra answers fairly reflexively, "Twenty-five minutes to destination, thank you, Petty Officer." With that said, Petra finally makes his way over to retrieve a mug of coffee, albiet a small one (for him), and that gives him enough time to flash a faint smile at Mara, Adeliza, and then Latif before taking a sip and retaking his space by the central table. Marine radio chattering gains a glance over at the MPs, but really just a glance, before his attention returns to the overhead panels.

Robin has been mostly messing with Petra, chatting about some snafu one of the Galley enlisted shared with her about a week ago. Time goes by fast. But after that she meandered over to the CMO to namely chat about inane things. It's a little odd since Robin is constantly keeping tabs on things while standing next to Sam. Basically she keeps staring back towards the Command Table and then periodically turns her head back to Samtara to reply or say some non sequitur right when the doctor seems to finally be able to focus down again. "As I was saying, I think we should have breakfast at some point. Make it a monthly thing." Finally, when she hears the crackle, she holds up a finger and listens in. Everything else is business as usual. "Anyways,

The radio crackles back, "Gunny, we're looking at an Enlisted from Engineering. He's standing here, staring at empty space like he's waiting for something. He's not responding to us verbally, either. Its like we aren't even here, Gunnery Sergeant."

Mara is paying attention. It might not seem like it at first glance, but while her eyes remain trained on her screen, her head tilts, ears catching conversation that floats her way. As the MP's radio crackles to life, Rook blinks, once, glances up from her screen and across to Ynyr, watching him with flat eyes for just a moment. Then looking away. The bantering between the two most senior command officers is noted but ignored. And she takes a small sip of her coffee, right as she catches that small smile from Petra. Another slow blink, and as her mug lowers, a short nod is sent in his direction.

Standing alongside the Admiral, and without much real insight into what it is that the admiral is looking at, display wise, Sam had kept her replies as light and as slightly inane. And she does look up from the datapad that she's holding, honestly to appreciate the view, it's not something she's really had the time - taken the time - to observe much before. The words 'worm' and 'hole' sometimes mean the result of something that has been, unfortunately, ingested resulting in the infestation of said worms. The glance up is then spared around the room, a cordial and respectful nod aimed at the commander and a quick sidelong grin shared with Robin before she directs a glimpse of a smile at her youngest of course then around the room from face to face. A well trained memory allows her to put name to face, though realistically it's name to medical record paired with face. "I'd like that," she agrees in a quiet voice paired with a smile.

"Twenty-five minutes to destination," Adeliza echoes the Commander to herself, her voice barely heard. She shifts a little, her left hip getting a little sore from the extra weight. She turns as Petra leaves, and takes a stance much like the one he had had, her bum resting against the table and her right arm cradling her left. As Ynyr's radio crackles to life, she stiffens, and the ease that had started to set in is completely erased. Her shoulders hunch a little as she hugs her injured arm closer to her body. Her eyes look down to the floor, and she releases her hold on her left arm to tuck her hair behind her right ear as she concentrates her audio sense on trying to catch whatever she can from Ynyr's direction.

Lleufer continues to stand watchful of what is going on in CIC as he listems to something coming over his coms. "Fireteam Charlie-One-Two, Ynyr here. Walk him to Sickbay and they can check him out. He isn't a skin, is he? Over." The Master-at-Arms flicks his gaze Petra's direction and tries to keep his baritone quite low so not to disturb /everyone/ in CIC too much. As he pauses to await a reply back, Lleufer suddenly tenses and asks no on particular a bit more loudly, "Danger, where? Kapali?" -Now- Ynyr looks firmly at Petra. The Gunnery Sergeant looks a little … spooked? Definitely on edge.

"Negative, Gunnery Sergeant. Escorting him to Sickbay-" The radio traffic doesn't finish.

From deep within the ship, aft, booms a triplet of dull thuds. That's definitely not normal. All at once the Fire Warning Lights at Damage Control, the ones for several sections of Engineering, flip from Green to Red. An audible warning buzzer sounds for three seconds with the switch of the lights. But a lot happens in those three seconds. The Tactical team at their stations looks at each other, nervous, and a few people shift positions a bit with the preparation to move on orders.

"-oh shit he's armed! Drop your weapo-" There's a string of very loud gunshots in the radio that sounds distinctly like automatic weapons fire and the radio goes silent. That sounded like Colonial Marine Rifles opening up on the radio.

The Petty Officer at Navigation speaks up quickly, "Sirs! The worm drive is losing power and FTL is down! The wormhole is collapsing!" That sounds bad. And it is. If it collapses they're going to be spat out of the wormhole at near light speed with very little control on where the velocity is shooting them towards.

And the Petty Officer has barely finished speaking when the movement of people around the CIC is parted a bit. An officer from Weps, already risen from his seat and far from others draws his sidearm in a single breathless action, takes a firm firing stance towards the map table. The first three rounds hit the XO in the chest and head from twenty feet away, and then the guy steps carefully sideways to get a cleaner shot at Robin and manages to squeeze the trigger once as people are ducking away. It plugs her nearly center mass.

Hearing the crackle of the security net wireless in his ear, Leander's attention is back on task. Not that he has anything much to say or do about the report for the Master at Arms, other than look a little confused. What the frak? Remaining at his post by the hatch, the Private shoots an odd look Lleufer's way when the Gunney says something about danger. Then Leander's gaze travels on, sweeping the compartment for anything that might have triggered this. He's just decided there's nothing when the shit hits the fan. He reacts to the gunshots by drawing his own sidearm, and spotting the officer who has just opened fire on the command team, the MP doesn't hesitate. Nor does he bother to yell for the gunman to put his weapon down. Pistol up, safety off, point, and shoot.

The first of the booms has Petra reaching out in reflex to hold on to the corner of the central table, his eyes tracking over to the Saturnalia board of status lights when indicators start going red on the fire board. When the warning they get about the wormhole is raised, the Commander raises his voice, "Attempt emergency shutdown of the wormhole drive, emergency stop, map the ships behind us and immediately laterally move to avoid a potential collision. Move!" His mug of coffee is left to slide wherever it's going to go, instead reaching out with his free arm to catch whatever blue vest might have been standing closest to him…though his gaze shifts to Robin and Samtara, maybe just quickly checking to make sure they are, "Everyone grab something NOW!"

Well, Latif was /not/ expecting that. You know, with all of the security in the CIC, shooting wasn't exactly on the day's orders. The first shot causes him to instinctively duck slightly…with some appropriate profanity…and then on some random instinct, unable to tackle him or do anything else, Latif hurls his coffee cup at the shooter before /actually/ ducking behind a station and grabbing on. Once there, a muttered 'frak' can be heard, and Latif is /really/ wishing he'd made sure the coffee was piping hot first.

"What the f-" As the firing starts. Then, the firing starts *in CiC*. There's a slight moment of deep confusion from Samuel, before his own pistol is out, safety off, and shooting at the asssilant. Having never been in this sitation before, the heavy weapons guy just focuses on the most obvious thing: the clear and present danger.

Things are happening over his coms. Ynyr grimaces, "Ynyr to Fireteams! We have a situation with automatic gunfire down in or near Engineering! Fireteam Charlie-One-Two requires support, NOW!" Those nearest can attempt to respond. And then there's the dull thuds and booms in the ship and the Fire control boards are lighting up. The Weapons officer draws and starts firing at the XO and Lleufer's drawing his own sidearm at once in the same quick reaction as Leander to try and nail that son of a bitch before the Weapons officier can shoot anyone else.

It's like the world slows down to a crawl. Moving second by exruciating second. Mara pushes to her feet as the Officer raises his gun and shoots the Admiral. She blinks once, then without a thought starts moving toward Petra. Because, well, he's definitely still alive right now and the Admiral is already down. So. The dark, humourless little Lieutenant is intent on at least providnig some sort of shield as she heads purposefully toward the Commander. Her dark eyes are fixed on him, and while she grabs onto the edge of the table, she doesn't slow her momentum. Much.

<FS3> Lleufer rolls Firearms: Great Success.

<FS3> Samuel rolls Firearms: Success.

Leander spends 1 luck points on not hitting the wrong people.

<FS3> Leander rolls Firearms: Good Success.

Adeliza isn't /the/ closest person to Petra, but she's there at the command table, and when the shots are fired, she freezes for a second, and then she lets out an expletive. Good hand holding onto the table, she takes the advice of the Commander, holding onto it tightly, but between him and the man firing. She stumbles, but then, with a grimace, she sets her feet solidly at least, so that she will take anything under head height shot at Petra. She gives a nod to Mara as the other Lieutenant makes her way over, but she doesn't dare reach out a hand to help steady the woman, since she only has one working one. "You should get down, sir," Lt. Wynn suggests, even though she knows he won't take her advice. But, she has to try, her jaw clenching as she waits to feel the pain again.

Robin tries to listen carefully, but doesn't catch everything. It's just snippets. She nods to Dr. Stone and then pushes off towards the Command Table. "Master at Arms. Do you have something you need to report?" she asks when she sets her mug on the table, looking over to him. But there's no time. Right then the booms go off. "Get the CIC extra-" but the Navigation officer speaks up and she lets the Master at Arms do what he probably very well already knows what needs to happen. Io can only open her mouth to start giving orders when she notices the odd stance of the Weps officer. "Down!" She's reaching for her sidearm as her XO gets shot before she can even get out the word. With her hand on the pistol. As Petra's shouting orders, Admiral Io takes the slug hard and goes down. She scrambles behind the map table, but is moving slow, her hand pressing against the wound. "Commander Petra. You have command," she tries to shout after a volley of rounds go off. She lays flat on the ground to prevent her heart from pumping all the blood out of her faster.

Instinct has Sam dropping the datapad she's holding in one hand, as she reaches for the mini-med kit she carries on her at all times, the other hand slapping for her sidearm even as she watches the XO take repeated hits that culminate with a head shot that it doesn't take a trained medical eye to know is not something a bandaid or pressure tourniquet will fix. Kit in one hand, sidearm in the other, she's crouched down as a precaution as Robin and Petra are shouting orders, then moves a half beat after Robin and takes a knee at her side as soon as the Admiral is down out of the line of potential fire. The kit is flipped open, sidearm returned to the holster at her side. "I said breakfast, Admiral, not surgery on the floor of CiC," she says in a voice that is calm and measured, gloves already snapped into place.

The Admiral already going down behind the Command Table, the Weps Officer pivots his aim towards Petra and is leaning into the direction when the Marine's fusillade of fire plows into the officer. Leander's removes part of his head and Lleufer's hits in the vital area right above the guy's heart. Samuel's round gut-punches the guy. He's not going to survive those hits. His body sways with the impact and one last round fires as he goes down, the round banging off two walls and sliding across the floor with a metallic rattle. The body crumples to the ground in a heap.

On the Marine radios, as hearing returns, there are the sounds of Marine units reporting in and three more teams encountering armed crew who were shooting and taking down the targets.

Meanwhile the Petty Officer at Nav is trying desperately to work his station. "Emergency Shutdown not responding, sir! It's collapsing!" His hands lift from the keyboard and he suddenly grabs onto the console.

Around them, that deep humming of the worm drive slowly becomes more violent like an earthquake building within the ship. Coffee mugs begin bouncing right off the table. Up on the monitors, anyone can look up and make out the curved space around them beginning to flatten out. But its happening unevenly. The shaking is almost unbearable and then it suddenly stops. And for a moment, everything seems like it might be okay.

Just one heartbeat. Time seems to hang in the moment.

And then the G-forces hit them. Its like the artificial gravity on the ship just kicked into overdrive. Everyone is slammed vertically downwards hard, not a single standing person left capable of fighting that sudden onset. All over CIC, seated crewmembers slam their faces and heads into their consoles before falling over and back to the ground.

<FS3> Samtara rolls Medicine: Great Success.

With all the people between himself and the gunman, Leander doesn't have a clear shot at first. He steadies down on the target and exhales, making damned sure he's not about to accidentally shoot an Admiral himself. Heck, hitting a Commander would probably look bad on your record, even. Luckily most people get down, and that gives the MP the shot he needs. *BLAM* his pistol adds to the cacophony in the CIC. The bullet hits the Weps officer in the head, coming to an abrupt halt somewhere inside the man's skull. And then Leander is drawing down for a followup shot, but he realizes the guy is going down. The Private stays at his post — it's his job to secure the hatch — but he scans the room again for any more weapons. Yeah, this looks bad. The technical details of what's happening to the ship are beyond the MP, but from the shouting, it surely does not sound good. And then Leander finds himself flat on his back, sucking air as the G-forces slam him down. "Oooof! Frak…"

"ARGH!-" is the only thing that comes out of Samuel as he hits the deck after getting the round off just in time. Luckily, his pistol doesn't seem to misfire as the gravity sends it down with him. As it stops kicking him down though, he immediately grabs for that pistol again, and with a wheeze, waits out the mule kick to get back up.

There's a moment of terror. It takes a lot to really cause fear in the heart of the emotionless Intel Officer, but this would definitely be one of those moments, as the great Orion hangs motionless in nowheresville, space. That horrifying rumbling causing her fingers to grip tight on the edge of the table, her knees buckling before the backlash hits. Mara's already two thirds of the way to the ground when the G-forces hit and she's slammed the rest of the way to the deck. The side of her head bouncing off the edge of the table, stunning her as she hits the ground and lies motionless for a few moments. Eyes blinking slowly as they try to focus through the stars and the subsequent nausea that rolls through her stomach and threatens to expel her recently ingested coffee.

The Master-At-Arms is far too busy to bother grabbing hold of anything. Lleufer Ynyr fires his sidearm and between him and his two fellow Marines, they bring the Weapons Officer down. Ynyr at once starts to move in, holding his sidearm pointed on the Weapons Officer, "PFC Leander, secure the Weapons Officer's firearm." There's a dreaded glance up at the screens as the wormhole collapses and the ship is slewing half assed out of it. The Gunnery Sergeant is half distracted by the Fireteams reporting in before Ynyr says softly, "Oh shit." The next thing he knows, Lleufer feels like he's been lifted up and then SLAM DUNKED against the deck! Kissing the deck plates wasn't on his to-do-list, damn it. That'll leave a mark.

Petra has enough time to shoot a look of defiant hate at the Weapons Officer as if daring the man to pull the trigger again, or maybe he knows what the drive is about to do, since he seems to be gritting his teeth. He doesn't even get out a warning - the shots go off, blood continues to spray. Nave manages to say the wormhole is collapsing, and then gravit truly becomes a bitch. Despite his bracing, Petra's face and shoulder hit the table hard enough to crack it and send a spiderweb lacing across the surface as he *bounces* off of it and hits the deck beneath. This wouldn't be the first time he's been bounced around CIC, but that doesn't mean this aint gonna hurt. He coughs loudly, covering his mouth with the back of his hand, and still, the first thing out of his mouth is, "Navigation, emergency evasive, all stop!"

"Well if I'm lucky it won't be that bad," Robin smiles wanly, but her tone is as inscrutable as ever on what she thinks the odds are, especially given the bad news from the Nav officer. "Frak. You might not have to," she says before turning on her side briefly enough so Dr. Stone can see if she has an exit wound. There is none. Of course not. But then, there's this funny thing about forces. When the Gs hit them vertically, the bullet is affected as well, and while the floor stops Robin, Robin's /body/ is trying to stop the bullet and absorb its energy…which means it drives in /deeper/ and the already gritting Admiral cries out uncharacteristically as the bullet bores through.

Latif is still in cover as the shooter goes down and…well, Mom seems to have the Admiral's condition in hand. She'll ask for another hand if she needs it…of /that/ he is certain. In the meantime, he's in cover and has his ears covered…but boy, are they ringing. And then, the gravity hits and Latif gets pulled flat on the floor, taking a moment to collect his thoughts (and not lose his lunch) as things settle down for the moment. "What the frakking hell…" he mutters as he slowly gets to his feet. "Colonel…Mom…do you need another hand?" he asks, taking a tentative step in her direction but also waiting for her to give an order either way.

Already on one knee beside Robin, Sam has one gloved hand reaching into the kit while the other is already peeling away the layers of the Admiral's uniform to get the full scope of the entry and exit wound. Entry point: Known. Exit point: "Bloody hell," is muttered as she doesn't see the exit wound with the visual sweep and she is leaning over Robin just as she and everyone else aboard the Goodship Newton's Law of Gravity get a good solid reminder what Gravity Works. She ends up more or less smacking Robin into the floor, unintentionally, and gives a wheezed "Sorry," as she pushes herself upright and nods. "Yes," she says without looking up, clean hand reaching into the kit to extend a pair of gloves to Latif.

The gun is turning towards Petra, towards her, and she's not tall enough to block a head shot, or even try some sort of ridiculous jump with her leg still bandaged. She's standing, frozen, useless, as the fight goes on around her, her head twisting this way and that as she tries to follow all that's coming in to them. Then the Nav shouts his warning, and she looks up, around, and then her injured leg buckles, offering no resistance to gravity when it puts its full weight on her. Head bouncing off the edge of the command table on the way down, she doesn't stand a chance to roll and get her right arm to hit first. Her head takes another whack when it connects the floor, and between the pain as her leg twists when she falls, the smack of her shoulder to the ground and some stitches coming loose, she blacks out, laying as she fell for a few heart beats.

There's nobody at Navigation. There aren't many of the Tactical crew at their stations. Most of them are trying to get up or are writhing in pain, holding their heads. Two are knocked out cold. But the PEtty Officer First rises on the order, slowly. He groans in pain, climbing back up to his station. There's a deep gash across his jaw and he spits out a couple of bloody teeth, coughing twice. "Emergency Evasive, All Stop, Aye!" he calls back painfully before turning and hauling up the woman next to him to get her to Steering. He's helping her get her bearings, the woman obviously not quite sure what's what for a few seconds. "Sir! We are at point-nine-one light. We've got no maneuvering for evasive actions. I'm diving us over the top, sir." The PO1 intends to flip the base-star around, fly it ass-first, and then fire the engines on max thrust. Its the only way the ship is going to slow down.

Another voice pipes up, "DRADIS is down at this velocity, sir!" So close to the speed of light, radio waves have no hope of getting back to the sending station. "Comms, too! We're blind and deaf, Commander!"

Except for the cameras above the command console. Anyone who looks up can see the aft view. Several of the battlegroup ships, the ones closest in trail, can be seen veering away from the Orion on paths they can't control either. The few ships they can see at this velocity look just as helpless, though a few are starting similar rolls to start emergency deceleration burns. …And one of them is trailing a cloud of smoke into space. And anyone who bothers to look at the starboard camera can see that nearly the whole screen is awash with white, with a few left-to-right black pixels moving across it.

Sam smashing into Robin is the least of her worries, unless it started squeezing her organs like toothpaste. The interaction likely masked what the pain was /really/ coming from, well most of it. If Sam checks again, there is still no exit wound. "Breakfast first," Robin mutters after the doctor's apology, just trying to stay conscious during the whole thing. "Doctor. I-…the bullet moved." How does she know? "I felt it." She only moves her hands when Sam guides them away. She starts to mumble some things under her breath. They sound official, like orders, like a stream of thought. Some part of her is on autopilot. She looks like she's all there though.

As soon as Sam replies, Latif is over there, jacket stripped off in case he needs fabric for an emergency…something…and putting the gloves on. "Alright, tell me what you need." Dammit, he's an intel analyst, not a doctor! Of course, everyone else is a bit of a mess from the gravity system deciding that events weren't heavy enough already…but Robin's condition is obviously the most serious. Gloves on, he's waiting for instructions…and fighting off a hell of a headache. Being nearly horizontal seems to have helped him a little, though.

"Where?" is Sam's immediate question in return, studying Robin's face as she asks this, as the person with the bullet inside is the one who is most acutely aware of the actual movement of same. Her head turns as she sees Lt Wynn smacking to the floor, "Check Lt Wynn and bring her here, don't move her head," she advises in the same quiet, measured, calm voice. Yes, the ship is squirting through time and space like a watermelon seed, but there's absolutely nothing the CMO can do about it. "I'm going to pad the entrance wound to staunch the flow of blood from this angle," she is advising Robin as her hands move to do precisely this. "The pressure is going to hurt," another calm warning as the pad is pressed into place.

Petra starts struggling to his feet, reaching up to grab at the smashed central table, "Understood, Navigation. Do whatever you can manage to NOT get us killed in the next twenty seconds." Only then does he start taking other assessments. Weapons Officer? Meat. Admiral? Down but being attended to. XO? Well crap, we're gonna need another XO. Do we get a discount for a 3 pack? DRADIS? Out. "Damage Control, tell me we aren't dying. Sergeant Ynyr, talk to me! Are we in a mutiny?"

Staggering back to his feet, Leander blinks and sucks wind. "What the frak was that?" he mutters to himself. His eyes dart around the CIC, but there's jack and shit he can do to influence the life or death of the Battlestar itself. So if this is it … well. This is it. And then, several seconds late, Lleufer's order registers on his brain. "Hatch secure," he calls out, "On my way, Gunney." The Private leaves his post, pistol in hand, and makes his way across the CIC. He's got a weapon to collect from near the body of their former Weps officer, but first he has to find a way past the wounded officers and the medical people at work.

With the mule kick done with, Samuel gets back to his feet, pistol in hand. Doing a brief assessment of matters, he simply keeps his pistol at standby position as he waits for anyone else who tries to murder people in the CiC, his eyes darting around.

Damage Control's Chief is on the ground,, holding her bloody face and isn't much help. The radio overhead at CIC crackles, someone using an emergency bypass when the comms officer wasn't responding - because he's knocked out. "CIC, Senior Chief Eddelson," is crackled. One of the Engineering Chiefs. She doesn't wait for a response. "We're got fires in six compartments. Two vented to space. We counted three detonations down here. Worm drive's generator is offline and so is the primary FTL reactor. I've got DC teams working on the fires right now. Only one of them might be a problem and we're preparing to vent the compartment. We're bringing the secondary FTL reactor online now and I've ordered the fuel lines vented to prevent detonation." There's shouting in the background, but it sounds like orders for fire crews being barked. "Too early to tell what else is down, over."

Dead or alive, the first thing Ynyr does is make himself get up and get his ass to the Weapons Officer. Leander may be taking care of the weapon but Lleufer can bind the man's hands behind his back. Then and only then does he feel for a pulse at the Weapons Officer's throat. By the look in Ynyr's eyes, He's listening to reports over his Marine coms from his fireteams. "Ynyr Copies. Get'm secured in the brig. Wounded to medical. Highest priority: security and damage control support to engineering, over." Only then does Lleu hear Petra's question, "We have multiple shootings thorought the ship. Likely sabotage in engineering. Fireteams are responding but it's too early to know what's happened, Sir. I need to get down there." Petra's call to whether the Commander wants Lleu up here or let him head for the Security Hub.

It seems like an age passes, but finally Mara's vision is clear, and her stomach settles back to normal and she's able to find her feet. Eventually. She props one hip against the table and her gloved hands make a habitual run over her uniform, tugging it back into place, making sure it's all neat. She runs one hand over her hair and carefully pushes the pins that hold it back in it's neat bun back into place. Then she slowly looks around, trying to get her thoughts in order through the mammoth headache left behind. Yep, there's definitely going to be a bruise. She's quiet, as usual, listening to the words that are flowing around her. From the Doc's commentary on the status of the Admiral, to the information coming from Damage Control and the Marines.

"I need to stay awake," Robin says after carefully clearing her throat. "It moved starboard." Well, it's fortunate for Sam that Robin's head is oriented towards the bow of the Orion, by freak chance. The doctor doesn't have to ask if it's Robin's starboard or the Orion's, one never knows when the patient is in this state if they've gotten their wires crossed. "I don't know where." She grits her teeth and makes a noise when Sam pushes the pad in, her eyes glazing over for a moment before she blinks softly. The packing Sam does with the pad really isn't enough. There's a bleed somewhere, and she's going to have to find it as she assesses any damage to internal injuries. It looks like the bullet cracked a rib it glanced off in the original wound path, but Sam would know she's not going to find the actual bullet hanging out in that trajectory.

Adeliza is among the groggy ones at this point, she gives a groan and rolls her head to one side. "I can do this," she says, gritting her teeth, to no one in particular. Her head rolled to the side fine, her fingers can wiggle, check, and her toes. She groans, and rolls to her right side, all the way until she's face down and can bring her right arm to bear underneath her to try and leverage herself to her feet. Noting the Damage Control Officer not getting up, instead of trying to get up at the table, she crawls a few paces forward, then pulls herself up into the chair, trying to make sense of the informateion coming in.

Latif nods and moves to check on Adeliza. "You sure?" he asks…but as she does her 'Is my body working? Yes? Awesome!' checks and they all come out fine, he spins around and returns to the more serious case…while keeping an eye on Adeliza just in case the concussion ends up being more serious. At least for the moment, though, any disorientation and nausea is just as likely down to the briefly extreme gravity of the situation as anything else.

"Commander, nothing from Deck at the moment…" Adeliza blinks her eyes, concentrates. "Dorsal guns are offline… 14? 14 with gear jams…" she waves a hand at Latif, which causes her to sway a little, but she keeps going. "Medical crews are being dispatched, but still no reports from Deck are coming through. I can't … get… " she's tapping at the buttons and screens, trying to send a message through, requesting that Deck report in.

"Commander, if the Gunnery Sergeant is heading toward engineering, I need to get the Admiral into surgery now," Sam says without looking up, still leaning forward as she's working to continue to try to slow the bleeding. Her sense of hearing is no where as acute as Lleu's is, but she knows her son's voice and could hear it through a crowded room twice as loud, so she catches his question to Lt. Wynn and risks a glance up before feeling a startled smile form on her face. "Starboard," she repeats then a reluctant chuckle escapes her. "Fight the ship, eh Admiral?"

Petra eyes Leander and Samuel and coughs again, clearing his throat, "Leave me these two, Gunny, and I'm good. Do what you need to do. Lt. Wynn, keep talking to Damage Control. I need a ship that's not leaking and nothing left on fire, quickly." He shoots an intense look at Samtara but doesn't ask, trying to judge how well Robin is doing, by how upset the CMO looks. When she addresses him, he nods once and amends, "Gunny, if you don't mind helping the doc get the Admiral down to surgery, I'd be in your debt. THEN, wherever you need to go, do it." Another quick glance up to confirm DRADIS is still out and Steering is working her ass off, before he adds, "Navigation, once we get stopped, I need to know who we have in the area, I need to know that they are all under friendly control, and I need to know where the frak we are. In that order."

Leander moves up next to Lleufer, by the downed Weps Officer, and holsters his sidearm. Then the Private takes a knee and secures the gunman's weapon, making sure it's safe before tucking it into the back of his own belt. "He dead, Gunney?" he asks the Master at Arms, giving the bound shooter's body a prod with his boot. "Frakkin' APF." Then his head turns, following the conversation between Lleufer and the officers in the CIC. It looks like he'll be staying here, and there's a potential corpse to move, so he waves Samuel over. "Give me a hand with this guy, would ya?"

Lleufer is busy, issuing orders and listening to reports over the Marine channels. He grimaces and removes his hand from the Weapons Officer's throat, "Yes, he's dead. Someone checked the XO?" Head wound and shot in the chest or not, Ynyr knows something about surviving against the odds. Just ask him. Briefly his left hand rests against his ear bud, "Ynyr here. Hell yes I authorize that. Do it. Over." A sharp nod then for Petra, "Yes, Sir. I can help them down to Medical, then double time it to the Security Hub." Lleufer steps over to help Samtara to get the Admiral up, "Forgive me, Admiral, Doctor, but we need to move fast. Leander, Hatch! You two stay here." That to Leander and Samuel. Unless Sam is going to object, Ynyr can heft Io up and over his shoulder to Fireman carry Robin the hell out at his best possible speed, trying to take care not to hurt her more.

Once she's sure her legs aren't going to give out, Mara looks around, guaging the carnage, an ear trained on the Commander's orders slash demands. With a final check to make sure her uniform is straightened to her satisfaction, she heads toward the electronic warfare station, her dark eyes focused on the job at hand. Moving neatly around those who might still be shaken up by the backlash of landing in the middle of nowhere, the little Lieutenant is on a mission. Arriving at her destination, she gets to work.

Adeliza spends 1 luck points on This rattled brain can remember the manuals.

<FS3> Adeliza rolls Repair: Good Success.

Mara spends 1 luck points on Getting it right.

Mara spends 1 luck points on Still getting it right. (Hopefully!).

<FS3> Mara rolls Signals Intelligence: Good Success.

<FS3> Mara rolls Electronics Intelligence: Good Success.

At least he didn't freeze up, so private Demetrov has that going for him. When he's requested for corpse work, and he makes a face. "Not really a priority right now, but sure." Samuel clicks the safety and moves over to help out Leander with the body as he holsters the pistol.

"No!" Sam's voice is urgent as she holds up a glove wearing hand that is smeared quite liberally with blood. "If we move her to fast the bullet could shift and do more damage," she speaks fast but clear. "Carefully. We carefully lift her. In tandem. On my mark," she says as she uses her other hand to snap the kit together and rises to her feet, crouching as she does so to take Robin's legs. "Lift - NOW - " she says as she gets a good grip on Robin's legs, trusting Lleu to handle his half of Robin as they lift her off of the ground. "Elevate her head slightly, Robin, don't you dare even think about bleeding to death on my watch. I will absolutely not allow it."

"I plan to get you back," Robin murmurs, probably not loud enough for anyone but those with pointy ears to hear. She's looking rather pale at this point, her lips starting to lose color, and Dr. Stone is getting her transported…hopefully just in time. Her two transporters are able to lift her, but it's a lot of dead weight since the Admiral can't really keep her body stiff or anything at the moment. A noise escapes, letting them both know she's still alive. "Sure," is her only reply, begging the question if she really absorbed everything Samtara just said. Succinct as always.

"Let's dump this guy in the cooridor," Leander says to Samuel by way of explanation, "Get these people a clear compartment." Assuming Samuel is willing to help, Leander grabs the body by one arm and starts hauling it toward the exit, planning to drag the corpse over and then open the hatch for the medical group. If not, the body can stay where it is. "On my way," he tells LLeufer.

Lleufer is a Jarhead, not a medic. Samtara catches his change in position and intercepts him right before he's about to heft Robin up and over his shoulder. OK, change of plan. Instead, Ynyr does as he's told and tries to bite down on his impatience to get his ass down to Security. He makes himself take a slow breath, then speaks over his radio again. "Ynyr Copies. On my way to Medical, then Security Hub." A pause, his grip shifted beneath the Admiral's arm pits and lifting her so Robin can lean her head against his abdomin as they begin to move toward the hatch. Most of his attention is still on trying to do his job, coordinating his Fireteams over the radio. "Bravo-Two-Seven, Ynyr here. Negative. Do NOT, I repeat, do NOT attempt to breach the hatch without checking preassure. Over." Is Samtara ready to head out that hatch yet?

Adeliza nods once at Petra's command, and decides that's a mistake. She closes her eyes for a moment, then opens them, and her fingers steady as she pulls a few switches, and the breakers reset. There's a flurry of information, and she holds the heel of her hand to her temple, grimacing. "Okay," she mutters to herself, and organizes it as best she can before she begins to report in the moment of silence that she finds to interject. "Viper tubes and elevators offline, sir. Flight ops out. Except Rhinos. Fifteen unaccounted for, crew on both flight decks were watching the jump, they may have gone through the barriers. Fuel spills on the port hangar deck have been contained. Fire in the ammunition lockers was immediately vented and is out. Seven crew unaccounted for in that deck." She finishes the first wave of information, and takes her hand from her temple to type and notes the blood on it. "Figures," she mutters, and returns it to its place to keep pressure on the spot, and if someone is looking closely at her, there is a trail of the blood down around her ear and soaking in her hair. Head wounds always bleed more than they're worth, though.

Fingers move across her screen, eyes scanning incoming data and that freakish brain of hers processing the information in a similarly mechanical way. Absolutely zero expression shows on Lieutenant Rook's face so it's difficult to tell what she's finding out as her fingers fly over the keyboard. Something makes her suck in a sharp breath, rocking back on her heels slightly before she carefully composes herself and turns to face the Commander. "Sir." She grates out, trying to make herself heard above the general din. "Sir…" She tries again, but that's a fail, so after a moment, she makes toward Petra until she's standing close enough that she doesn't have to try and raise her damaged voice. Standing like a little shadow beside him, she waits while Adeliza gives her report before dropping her own bombshells. "Sir," Pause, breath. "Signals indicate a massive Skath presence, maybe one light day away. They haven't picked up our presence." She doesn't have to say 'yet'. It's implied in her carefully nuetral tone. Relaying this information like she's discussing the weather. "External sensors are coming back online… That white…" One hand waves in the general direction of the starboard cameras… "Is the galactic core."

Latif overhears that remark and suddenly looks a little woozy. "How far is it?" he asks, not having any patients to help Dr. Nadir with. "How far in are we?" he asks, a bit quiet as it very quickly hits him as to just how far from home they are.

The Petty Officer at Navigation is still bleeding but it looks worse than it is. Hopefully. "Commander, we will complete out rotation in ten minutes. Estimate time to maneuvering velocity, four hours. We're going to burn a lot of fuel, sir." He's busy helping at Steering, though, doing calculations while helping get the ship turned around.

"I have full faith and confidence that you have a plan," Sam replies to Robin, whether Robin is paying attention or not. "Good, just .. keep breathing," and a glance is shared across Leu as they carry Robin toward the hatch, carefully stepping over. "I'd greatly appreciate it if your marines and MP's would be so kind as to not shoot us while we're en route, if you don't mind?" it's almost a joke, really, almost, save for the serious look on Sam's face and the genuine worry of friendly-fire incidents. And they're off out and on the way, quick time without jostling Robin along the way.

Petra is quiet while he listens after barking so many different instructions, blinking and staring at the roughly Petra-sized dent in the command table. He glances up to watch Samtara and Lleufer work to arrange to get Robin to medical. To Adeliza first, he offers, "Thank you, Lieutenant. I need to know about the rest of the fleet if we can. Are any of the other capital ships with us, and if so, are they under control?" Then there's a long pause, and he stops and the Commander blinks and looks at Mara, and perhaps in the sudden silence can be heard that single, softly, "..frak…' coming out of his scarred face, "As quickly as you can manage, I need to know which members of the fleet are online and who has FTL capability. Tell damage control FTL functionality is Priority One. Wynn, monitor the Skath fleet, find us a jump point behind the larges gravity well within range and tell the rest of the Fleet to prep it and use it as an energency jump point if the Skath head our way. Confirm when you have that relayed. Do NOT launch aircraft, at least not yet."

Lleufer heads out the hatch with Samtara and Robin, but even as much of his attention is for what's coming over his ear bud, the Gunnery Sergeant does spare one glance back at mention of 'Galatic core'. Ynyr feels the bottom fall out under his stomach, but only looks grim as they head out of CIC.

"Uh… ok, corpse removal." Samuel replies dumbly as he starts to grab up the body and head out with it. "Sure." He continues as they head out with it.

Shifting carefully from one foot to the other, Mara watches Petra steadily for a moment or two. "Sir." She croakes out again, then pauses to clear her throat before continuing. "Sir, we're still moving too fast. It'll be…" There's a pause while she makes some mental calculations and snags an abandoned tablet to run through some information. "Maybe…. four hours before everyone's slowed down enough to patch comms. We have… maybe a day before the Skath know we're here." Latif's question registers in her brain after all that and she turns slightly to glance in his direction. "Close enough…" Her response is hoarse from the amount of talking she's just done. "We're already… nearly weeks overdue for our intended arrival at Pireaus. Won't know for sure until we slow down…"

"Not like we can help drive the ship," Leander answers Samuel as they're dragging the body out. When their location is announced, the MP breathes out a soft, "Holy frak…" He may not be certain exactly how frakked they are, but the magnitude is close enough. After the Admiral, CMO, and Master at Arms are away and the body has been left outside, Leander heads back into CIC to secure it once more.

Adeliza turns to look at Petra as he barks series of orders for her, and she looks at him. Thankfully, Mara reminds him that most of what he just requested is impossible right at this point. She continues to hold her hand on her temple as she looks towards the core in their starboard screens, and sinks back into her chair.

Petra nods slowly at Mara, "Understood, Lieutenant. If your computers are up, use the excess speed to your advantage. Slow us down in a direction that will angle us closer to a system we can hide in, if we aren't still flying blind, and lets hope the rest of the ship captains see what we are doing and clue in. We didn't promote idiots to CO positions." With that said, he takes a moment to rub his face with both hands and glances around CIC, focusing on the Marines first, "I'll need to know if you hear anything on your radios from SecHub. Otherwise, noone through those hatches that wasn't already in here, please." To Latif, Mara, and Adeliza as a whole, he finally lowers his voice, "I'm open to any brilliant ideas the three of you can come up with. We need to get our speed under control, we need to repair, we need to take stock of which of the fleet we've lost, and we need to reassess the tactical situation. We are blind and crippled and THOSE frakkers are going to notice we just exploded on the scene any moment. I dont care how stupid the idea sounds, start thinking."

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