AWD #360: Coffin Retrieval
Coffin Retrieval
Summary: A trio take the Iron Pilgrim out to Ragnar to bring back the unknown box.
Date: 16/6/2016 (OOC Date)
Related Logs: Cargo Call, What's in the Boxxxxxx?
Evans Maia Halena Dropkickst 
Iron Pilgrim
See Sceneset
AWD #360

The Iron Pilgrim pulls away from the fleet with its minimal crew aboard and gets into their jump position. It's three jumps back to the colonies, including the final one to Ragnar and the moon Ophion. It takes a couple hours due to the need to charge the jump-drive and get into proper position. Evans manages it well. When they come out of the third and final jump the ship is facing the moon Ophion. The red rock of the surface speaks to its heavy iron surface dust and core. It always messes with instruments when people get too close, but thankfull they are just outside the zone for intercept. Evans has put them on a ten minute approach distance. A little more than perfect, but it provides Maia enough room to handily maneuver. At the current distance its still a little too far away to pick out the jet-black object, but its hopefully still out there. Off to their left, and in the far distance, the navigation bouys for the entrance to the anchorage still ping IFF feeds as normal. And, if one watches close enough, they can just pick out the twinkle of their blinks with the rotating lights.

Evans fiddles with the flight systems as they come back online after the jump, automatically checking their position against where they are supposed to be, as well as anything that pops up on DRADIS when the system unscrambles. Without missing a beat, he keys the wireless, "Aaaand proving my high school girlfriend wrong yet again, we did successfully fit something this big right where we wanted it to go. Ship is on the mark, and if our passengers will look out over the starboard wing, you'll see the lovely electromagnetic storm that is Ragnar. I heard the Cylons left a horrible review: Melts our faces, would not attack again, Dislike." A small pause and he adds, "It would appear our topic of discussion today is holding position at 5 degrees off port side, range of about 10 miles, give or take Ophion interference. For the moment, Centerfold, we're it." He finally looks up from his instruments and smiles, "All yours, sir."

Back in the saddle baby. Maia was suited up in her flight suit, already on board, on the way. With her hands on the controls, she doesn't fight it so much as cuss at it now and again for being an asshole. Or that's what she's deemed it at the moment for being so tedious to control. Once they have made the final jump, she murmurs into the com, "Nice going, Chatterbox." Lips quirking at his anecdote, she glances back. "Perfect, never doubted ya. Man, it's good to be back, even with this ship." She admires the view but there was work to be done.

In the meantime, Halena is suiting up. Near the airlock door she's already stepped into what one might consider the 'pants' of her EVA suit, with an entirely unsexy cap now covering half of her head and all of her red hair. She yanks hard to pull the torso and helmet of the suit down, and with a few more steps, has secured herself into it. Her voice, speaking now over the comms, is crisp and professional. "All clear here when we get close enough," she says, moving in heavy steps into the airlock. Her limp is almost indiscernable in the heavy suit. "Will stand by in the airlock." And with those heavy steps she moves in, her shoulders heaving a bit with the bulky motions. Soon enough, once the airlock is secured and opened on the other side, she'll be graceful as a ballerina.

<FS3> Maia rolls Piloting-2: Good Success.

<FS3> Evans rolls Ecm: Good Success.

<FS3> Halena rolls Alertness: Good Success.

The IP rolls closer with Maia at the helm. Some things just come well to a pilot. The miles are ate up fairly quickly and the ship is maneuvered into position. Once there, the rear cargo bay is opened on a slow intercept. At only 100 yards from the black target, the closure rate to the target slows to one meter per second. Still fast for the final intake, but good enough for now.

It was like riding a bicycle.. only not. Maia guides it in closer, falling silent as she does, listening for anything from the back in regards to company or trouble, or both. Once there, she glances back again, holding steady, "Take it easy baby," she murmurs to the ship, or something.

Evans doobedoobedoos to himself as he watches the instruments tick by, entirely too much energy in the young man to not take advantage of how they actually have standing room in the cabin, unlike the cramped Raptor. Headset on, out of his seat, eyes still glued to his toys while displaying some sick dance moves (no, really, is he ill?), he calls out, "Looks like our date didnt stand us up, but…" he pauses for a moment, hrms under his breath, then adds, "Uh, They said this was a coffin, right? Like, dead Marine?"

"'Coffin' is being used colloquially to my understanding," Halena's voice once again crisply crackles over the radio with that posh Caprican tone. By now, she's hanging out in the cargo bay, having moved through the airlock and is hanging out just inside even though the doors to the bay are open and she's watching the 'coffin' as it grows closer and closer. She's safely tethered to the ship, naturally, and prepared to do the same once they're close enough and prepared. There's a moment of pause, and then her voice chimes in again, crisp and professional. "ECO can you confirm some spin on the target?"

Twenty-five meters. Twenty. Fifteen. By now it's aimed directly at the cargo bay. The lights on the back end catch it under their illumination and Halena can read the 'CFIS-112164' designation on the side. Colonial Fleet Intelligence Service? It is just about to be in capture and suddenly there is a blinding flash right above the rear. It lasts for only a second but Halena is looking right at it.

<FS3> Halena rolls Presence+Presence: Success.

Evans hmms when Halena offers that they didnt REALLY mean Dead Marine Box, "I see." Then he's being asked to confirm spin on the target, and off the wireless (but where Maia can probably hear the murmuring, "How the frak am I going to know that?" But never let it be said that Evans does not try to please, as he guesticulates to himself and finally keys the mic, "Ah…maybe? Hard to tell from here, sir. DRADIS doesn't tell me, holdup!" And just like that, he's back in his chair, "The frak was that. Captain? What the frak just happened?" then off the mic to Maia, he adds, "Energy spike, microwave band and the hell if that thing didnt just kick off an FTL spike."

Blissfully unaware of any such flashes and things going wrong, Maia remains there in her seat like any good pilot should. She has fallen silent, just listening, the eerie silence of space broken by interludes of Chatterbox doing his thing. She looks towards Evans expectantly, then as the entire atmosphere inside changes with his sudden return to the controls. "What is it?" she asks, an edge to her voice. "The frak?" she readies to kick off again, but not yet..

There's a little choked noise from Halena's comm's … and then it's quiet. For a second, then another. Then Halena's voice on the comm's once more. "Jump Flash. Five meters to intercept," Halena says, and with a few heavy blinks of her hazel eyes she's moving from the airlock, floating with the grace of a swimmer in calm waters in a giant suit worth more than all of their pay rates put together. Apparently they're just going to keep on doing this. She'll be aiming to reach the 'coffin' such as it is, and to guide it gently into the bay where it can be latched safely upon a platform with the raised Faraday cage around it.

The cameras up front show it on a delay. Seconds after it happens, they can see Halena in the bay and the target incoming slowly. Then there it is, the flash just above the aft of the target, having totally changed its approach vector on its own somehow. It slides in nose first and continues an easy draw in, heading for the cage. So far.. so.. wtf. Something happened. There's no sign of what just yet, though. Everything continues as planned, the six foot metal 'cigar' sliding just easy as you please. 3… 2… 1… capture.

Evans murmurs over the comm, "Well, yes, I SAW that." Then almost as an afterthought, "..sir." He takes a breath and glues his eyes to the instruments, still on the wireless, "I gotta bad feeling about this, sir. Either it attempted to FTL out and failed, or it sent something out as an FTL, in which case we migh have company really damned soon…" He trails off as the feeds show Halena guiding the Thing into the bay, and without even looking at the controls, he's already keying in the first 12-digit number, fingers hovering over the execute button, "Ready to Spool up for jump any time you damned well want to, Centerfold. Captain, you good back there?"

"We don't have time for company and this thing controls like a damned box." Maia counters, not pleased with the news. She falls silent, realizing what Evans was doing and she nods tersely. "As soon as the Captain has her in, we'll jet." Ready to get out of there at the soonest opportunity. "Call it Captain, got the bay doors shut? Ready to go? On her go, we go, Chatterbox."
You paged Halena with 'feel free to shut them'

Halena is able to secure the self-docking coffin rather easily, turning and moving back to the airlock once it's done. "So glad your eyes haven't failed you," she responds, dryly at Evans' first line. It's all rather quick going, thanks to the coffin itself. And then the hum of the bay doors can be heard — or should be heard, but well, vaccume of space and all. Still, they close in the slow, laborious way that large bay doors do. Then Halena is moving back into the airlock, sealing the door behind her and pressurizing the space. "Clear," she says, crisply as before. It's all they want to hear, after all.

Just as Halena calls clear, the two crew up front can see it out the windows. DRADIS only confirms it. About five miles out. One flash. Two, thre- four five six seven eight nine- More than a dozen jump flashes. It's anyone's guess what they are until DRADIS pings back half a second later. The count keeps climbing, too. Well past a dozen, the gaggle of contacts on DRADIS gets automatically condensed down to one large contact: Raider Squadron, five miles at bearing 330 and closing FAST. The wingtips flash with gunfire and two more have larger flashes under the belly.

The next sound is the one that puckers the butt.

A bell rings all over the ship. Radiological alarm. They're launching nukes. Impact ten seconds. Nine. Eight.

<FS3> Evans rolls Ecm: Good Success.

The Captain called it, clear, Maia is just about to echo the command when she sees the flashes through the canopy.. they keep coming. "Holy frak," there is a dead silence after, for only an eighth of a second, then just as the alarm rings, she's yelling out through the com, looking back, "GOGOGOGOGOGO!" The words hurried but clear, it was time to get the hell out of Dodge. Hands on the controls, she holds tight, all joking aside, she can practically feel the heat from the nukes, in her mind of course. She has no doubts nor hesitations that Evans will get them out in time.

Evans doesnt really NEED the half second for DRADIS dots to flip from 'UNIDENTIFIED' to 'RAIDER' to know they are screwed. Aren't we glad he already had the first jump coordinates punched in? Yes, we are. Because DRADIS goes off, followed by radiological alarm going off and Evans is keying the mike, "Gods DAMN it I want to be wrong for once. Captain, grab your ankles, the Cylons have a strap on!" The heel of his palm hits the EXECUTE button so hard ir paobably cracks the plastic, and his gaze plasters to the DRADIS screen and the FTL computer read out next to it while he counts off, "Missile incoming tracking ing 6…5…FTL spool up in 4…3….shit, I only need a shave this close in the head. COLLISION!" He grabs the console as if that's going to matter if /multiple nukes/ hit them and…

…POOF. DRADIS unscrambles after the jump. Evan cracks one eye open, watches the screen for a moment, and remembers to breath with a soft, "Mommy, I need some new underwear."

Halena remains in the secured airlock for awhile longer. Whatever reactions she might have to the alarms that sound their impending doom is not known. But, eventually, she'll come through, laboring in the big suit and moving to the wall so she can slide out of it, leaving the heavy peices in their appropriate places. The torso hooked back onto the gurney, she unloaches all the safeties and slides out of it, leaving her standing in the lower half which she is able to step out of soon enough, leaving her as she was before, in her flightsuit and cap. The cap is pulled off, letting her frizzled red hair tumble free and giving her something of a wild-woman look. That quick glare to Evans doesn't help either. "Are we clear?"

The were dead.. as dead as the coffin they had picked up. The shout out from Evans, Collision, convinces Maia of it and she holds the controls, closing her own eyes as she awaits the bright flash. When none comes, her eyes fly open and her hands are still on the control. "Chatterbox," she says shakily, trying to come to terms with the near fatal incident, she finishes, "I don't know what God you worship, but I own them big time. Holy frak…" even her voice is shaky over the coms.

Evans glances back at the airlock when Halena steps through it, chewing on his lip as he eyes the airlock, "I hope we are." His gaze returns to DRADIS, keying in the next jump while he waits. Are dots going to follow? Is more red going to appear? He slowly shakes his head at Maia's comment and mutters, "I'd personally like to know what gods I worship, cause I owe them a blowjob after that." Once it becomes apparent they arent being followed, and their new passenger isnt sending off another FTL flare, he takes a deep breath, "Sir, I recommend we do NOT take this to Piraeus. This thing just sent up an FTL flare that the enemy homed in on. With all due respect, I recommend we take this to Picon, get Spree to send us up a Raptor, and we take this hulk out to dead space and leave it and take the Raptor back to Piraeus. No frakking way does this go back to P with us."

"Negative," Halena says, after a moment's consideration. She ruffles her hair and moves to sit in her jump seat, securing herself there. You know. Safety and all that. "It won't be able to send out another flare from within that cargo bay. Orders are to move to designated Pireaus space and the diminished threat posed by the target in containment is not enough to override those orders. Please proceed." At that, the redheaded woman bends at the waist a bit to rub the back of her right knee and calf, flinching just a little. But her eyes? Those are glazed over. Her mind is far, far away.

"Agreed," Maia says, still too shaken to quip back something about the promised BJ to whatever lucky God saved their collective asses out there. As it is, she realizes how right the call is and decides it's something that has to be done rather than endangering Piraeus and everything that everyone had worked so hard to accomplish there. "Let's do it. Picon it is, we'll get settled there with the coffin. It may be our asses, but we're alive, and we can't put so many other lives in danger." There was a time to follow orders and a time to.. not. But as the Captain calls it, she gives a terse nod. "Pireaus it is.." though her voice is hesitant, she doesn't agree with it.

Evans winces a little as his recommendation is denied, his tone lowering as he murmurs, "Yes sir. Final jump to Piraeus orbit in…" The last 12 digit set is keyed in and the computer told to chew on it while Evans counts down the last five seconds, relocating the beast to near Piraeus space, close enough for Maia to insert the monster into a proper orbit without too much difficulty. Keying the broadcast mic, he calls out for the NOMAD group to inform them of their arrival and could someone PLEASE come retrieve them as the cargo ship is out of toilet paper and he's regretting that pot of coffee before they took off, now."

Halena lifts her eyes once the final jump is complete, and finally sits back in her seat a little. She stretches her right leg out in front of her a bit. "ECO, before you depart, please look through your log and see if there were any readings before the flare, any readings regarding the 'spin' for the repot." Of course that'll take time, and likely time is what they have while they wait to be relieved to see what will happen next with this fancy new package they just brought home.

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