AWD #349: Discovering The Galactica
AWD #349: Discovering The Galactica
Summary: A team heads out to scout Ragnar Anchorage and finds someone they least expected got there first…
Date: 04/06/1016 (OOC Date)
Related Logs: None
Bennett Bran Kelsey Randy Dreyer Callum Zacharias Retrograde 
Ragnar Anchorage
Ragnar Anchorage, floating in a pocket of electromagnetically charged gas from the gas giant Ragnar. Not a cuddly place to be…

Whenever headed into a mission so unknown and isolated, Randy is sure to bring some choice essentials and then some. This trip, she decided to bring a bomb suit. It takes up the other volume a big marine would take up.Everyone is stuffed in with Randy's bombsuit tucked in the back just in case. She however, ended up squeezed in the middle with all of her gear. She packs in better than most marines

Whenever headed into a mission so unknown and isolated, Randy is sure to bring some choice essentials and then some. This trip, she decided to bring a bomb suit. It takes up the other volume a big marine would take up if you count her too. Although the suit is eva rated, Randy showed up early to find a good spot for it that wouldn't get in the way of other people's maneuvers, which means she's huddled in the back corner of the raptor with her hand resting on the helmet.

Kelsey knew the orders for the mission. She knew where they were going. She doesn't bother trying to hide it. She's in her full gear, which she's worn ever since her first shootdown. Her paranoia hasn't gotten any better. The Marines refused to give her grenades this time since there were so many others coming. So she filled her pouches with extra rounds. The girl's pockets swing with the extra mags when she walks. No fraks given to the orders about engagement. When she sits into the left seat, she quietly arms the ejection seat. And doublechecks it. Straps in, sits quietly, and waits with her hands in her lap. Kelsey is here in case Bennett can't fly anymore. Pip made sure Kelsey understands her role in all this. Throughout the flight, she plays her role to a T and just confirms all flight operations with her hands resting easily and keeping her eyes on the stars, watching for Banditos.

Leaving the ship. And not to go and simply be a human mule on the Iron Pilgrim. With no proper knowledge of such aspects of construction, Dreyer has spent shifts on the cargo hauler merely carrying things. The MP Sergeant was pretty swiftly together and settled into the Raptor once the call went out. But that's a marine for you. They could be out of bed and ready in the time it might take some pilots to get into their flight suit. He's in full armor, though his helmet sits loosely for the time being. Dreyer does have a bit of a heftier radio, but nothing over the top or fancy. It's even an older model. Likely to just get the wirelo-in-training used to carrying such. He's still given most of his kit over to rifle, sidearm, and a couple different styles of grenade. The tools of the rifleman trade. And in a move that surprised no one, Anton was out and napping before they even hit their first jump.

Bennett is not the chattiest of bus drivers. Sure, she has a pretty decent bedside manner, but idle conversation is not her forte. Up in the front of the raptor, on this mission more than most, she's all business. Her gloved fingers ghost over the controls as she completes pre-flight, and there's only a brief tick of her blue eyes Kelsey's way when the other pilot boards. Her backup; in case she can't complete the mission. The understanding sits there between them with a weight of its own, and she resumes her work quietly. "Spooling engines. Squire, you've got the radio. Hatch please." And soon enough, they're cleared for launch and racing away from Orion.

Lukas Bran mutters under his breath, for there is little to no reason for him to be pleased about returning to Ragnar Anchorange, and a prayer to the powers that be ought to grant him and the others strength. It is, after all, something he has volunteered for. Pre-flight is done and over with. The ducklings have long since been sat down and squared away, secured within their seats, leaving him to stop whispering to himself. The last thing of note that the man contends with is tucking a small portrait of his wife against the metal surface to the near right of the keyboard sat in front of him. He smiles flatly before lifting his attention to the screen above head. Quietly, he toggles a few buttons.

True to the marine's normal manners, Zacharias slips into the Raptor somewhere in the middle of the pack. Not particularly chatty today he simply finds his seat and begins to strap in. He's kitted himself rather basically, body armor, rifle, sidearm, a few extra mags and a couple grenades thrown in as an afterthought. His eyes dart towards the front of the Raptor to the pilots only for a moment as he reaches into one of his pockets and digs out a set of Triad cards and starts playing some version of a solitaire game to amuse himself through the ride, the occasional murmur under his breath the only noise coming from the man.

The final jump from dead space to the edge of Ragnar's gravity well goes off without an issue, with the secondary raptor popping in a second later and checking in with Bennett, "On point, Captain, ready to hover. Good luck!" What was the blackness of dead space is, in an instant, replaced with the dark greys and muddled blues of RAGNAR completely filling the front canopy. The flight controls and ECO's sensors and instruments immediately begin registering the interference the huge gas ball causes, effectively making the ship blind beyond a certain distance into the planet. The Fleet has either discovered or made a channel in the gas that has remained stable for years now, and provides a highway of sorts to make it in to the munitions depot, and it looms ahead like a bottomless pit into the murky depths.

The OTHER thing that will register on the ECO's sensors and DRADIS is the, well, coffin, that floats maybe a click further out, as if it was standing sentry watch over the entrance. A gleaming cylinder about 6 feet long, floating in space like a piece of metal. Not going anywhere. No, sir.

Squire has come a damned long way. From being a flailing angst-bomb after the war broke out, she's seemed to absorb the JG rank with aplomb and done her best to be a professional. It will never be perfect, though. "Copy, sir." That's all she says to Bennett, flipping the PriCom switch to her side and plugging in the encryption code so she's ready. After the jump in, Kelsey captures the comms despite Bennett hearing them in her ear, too. "Copy One. Two is inbound. Rendezvous at expected time or return to Home Plate. Squire, out." The girl kills the comms and continues looking over the blue mess. Gods. This is not where she wanted to be. Her eyes drop and begin punching up her own piloting selection on MFD's. Another reach over and she lifts a red latch over a switch and then flips it. "Master Arm, On. Guns and missiles are hot."

Bran absentmindedly reaches for the back of his neck as if to scratch at it; however, there is a suit in the way. He clenches that hand into a fist and then returns it forward, using his left now to swivel sensors in no particular direction at first. It then focuses at a particular blip, a distinctive set of coordinates out into the beyond as the Raptor steadily drifts onwards. "Hello, there," he says. His gaze lifts. He's looking at what the Raptor is looking at. On the screen is the live imagery of floating debris. The debris is an elongated cylinder, nearly as tall as he is and at least just as wide. Man-sized, roughly. He inclines his head thoughtfully. He looks away, elsewhere on his monitors. "Systems still green. We're steady back here."

Bennett throttles the raptor's engines back once they cross the threshold, their bright blue flare melting into a softer, paler glow that arcs behind them as they hurtle into the gas giant's atmosphere. Or what passes for one. "Squire, please keep a lock on the object to our two o'clock. If it moves, or starts doing anything at all, sing out." A pause as Bran speaks, and a slight nod. "Copy that, Bear. Anything on PIRCS?"

When they pop in over the crazed storms, Randy's eyes flutter to adjust and she squints from the back of the bus between the pilot and co-pilot. She straightens up a little to get a better view and reaches up to tie her hair back quickly with a band from her wrist, tucking any remaining hair behind her ears. By now she has her helmet in her lap to finish her checks. She'd done safety checks many times (and of course before boarding) but when she finishes each check this last time, she preps the suit's various mechanisms to be ready should she need to slide in 'quick.' Hopefully it's just a jump seat flight for the suit. When the word object comes up, Randy perks up again, "What object?" from the back. "Did we scan it?"

Callum sits with the other marines, since there ain't nothing for him to do. That's fine, let people worry about what they gotta worry about. Humming a tune softly to himself, it's barely audible over the noise of other stuff, but those around him might recognize it as a ballad of true love on Scorpia. About a man hitting it big on the slots and whisking away his girl to places unseen. While he's doing this, he's just going through his med kit. Gotta make sure he packed enough duct tape to bandage people up. Glancing up at Randy's question he says, "Object means they don't know what it is."

They jumped? Dreyer wouldn't know. He's taken the opportunity to nap. The man has even slumped over a bit onto Randy. Her head makes a convenient enough pillow. That is… until she makes to put her hair up. The man hadn't quite reached snoring status, but he was pretty close to it. There's a snort of rumble-snerk from him as he startles upright. There's a stretches of arms overhead and he blinks a few times before leaning to look out the front. "Huh." Someone's never seen Ragnar before.

A few more cards shift places in his hands. He even starts humming along with Callum unconciously as the somewhat familiar song worms its way into his brain. As blue fills up the window he turns to glance at the sight, sucking his teeth for a moment in silence as he just tries to take that sight in. There's a word muttered under his breath, something quite pithy that luckily only the people closest to him have a chance of making out. Then, "Object?" Someone doesn't sound like he's happy.

The channel is wide enough to allow a Battlestar through, so a single Raptor has no problems whatsoever navigating the channel, which has a few long, lazy turns specifically designed to prohibit line of sight and some enemy trying a risky cruise missile shot to take out the station from afar. Bennett (and probably Kelsey) can do this in their sleep, its just a matter of staying alert to what is ahead.

After the third turn, an arm of the munitions depot can be seen sticking out from around the last bend, and as the Raptor inches further, more and more of the station creeps into view. Ragnar is dark, but running lights still twinkle from corners and the ends of its docking umbilicals, so some part of it still has power. Hey, it hasn't been destroyed or visibly damaged - that's a good sign right? But wait, it would appear the station has a visitor: Indeed, attached to the far side of the station, there's a ship, and though most of it is blocked by the sheer size of the Anchorage…that LOOKS like a Battlestar…running lights aren't on, the engines are off, but any more details like the name and the condition of the rest of the ship are impossible to tell from here (You basically can see most of the nose and the back half of the engine pod).

"It won't do anything. You don't have to worry about it," but Bran's low tone does not coherently match the words that are coming out of his mouth. As for what is coming from his sensors, other than they being fine enough and steady, he points a finger in the direction of the picture overhead. It's a coffin. Maybe. "I've been here before. We scanned it then." he says. A forefinger pokes experimentally at a screen before he dials back a handful of sensors and adjusts frequencies. Interference still is interference. His sensors are turned elsewhere as the bus chugs along. In answering Bennett, "Your object refuses to broadcast anything other than its presence on my monitors, much like everything else on here. Nothing out of the ordinary, Butch." Except the bus continues to chug along. "That's different. Colonial ship different."

"Yeah, thanks for that captain obvious," Randy does a fake vid salute to Callum with as much respect as she can muster. "This place could be booby trapped." When Bran points to his display and mentions he's scanned it before, Randy tilts her head. "Just because you scanned it once upon a time…What if someone's been here since then?" She hasn't even seen the Battlestar yet. She frowns, brow knitting up as she stews in silence. A passenger.

"Nothing out of the ordinary," Bennett echoes, voice soft. The anchorage looms larger as they hurtle in closer, and like probably everyone on her bus, her gaze goes to the apparently colonial ship parked on the far side. "Weapons lock on that battlestar, please." It's a phrase she likely didn't think she'd ever have to utter, and it's spoken with only the faintest trace of uncertainty. "Scan it again," she tells Bran, with a crooked little smile he can't see. "Humour me." The bus begins to roll as she positions it for docking, belly up and floodlights on.

"You asked, I answered." Callum says in a matter-of-fact tone to Randy. It was a better answer than a bunch of techno mumbo jumbo that meant jack anyway. Glancing up at the sights, he spends a good twenty seconds taking it all in and then goes back to finishing up his inspection of his medkit. Mostly because he didn't want to gawk at things and look like some sort of country bumpkin.

Kelsey leans forward only as much as the straps for the seat allow. She pushes two buttons on the MFD's and nods. "Target locked, sir." Leaning back in the seat, she settles in for the ride. Those eyes flick between the display and the sky again, settling in. As best she can. At least she is in an ejection seat this time. While navigating down, she holds her place well. But when they turn through the third leg and she see's what's in front of them? "Lords n Frakkin Ladies," she whispers. Jesus F'ing Christ. She stares out the canopy glass. She punches the MFD and sets the targeting on the battlestar. "Target lock, guns on turret."

Scrubbing his wrist over his mouth to clear up any possible drool, Dreyer leans back into place and re-adjusts his straps. He didn't have a clear enough view to see the ship at the opposite end of the anchorage. Just the arm of the place itself. "Well that's not forboding at all," he drawls, tipping his head back against the interior wall. The MP may very well be intending on dozing back off.

"Then we die, Sergeant." Bran casually answers Randy in passing. He can spread his focus across a few conversations at once, belatedly tracking the speakers with sidelong glances in their general direction. The large man hikes his shoulders into a heavy shrug, heaving his attention briefly forward at his elaborate array of controls. There's a look to the picture at his front. "Docked ship is dead and sitting blind. Reactor is cold with zero life support," he hesitates, "That's with a second scan. Station is on auxiliary, at best. Minimal life support, and… running scans."

Zacharias leans forward in his seat as far as the straps allow to get a look out that window. He doesn't mind gawking like a country bumpkin, considering that's what he is afterall. "Fraking a'…" It's all he manages once he manages to get sight of the littlest bit of what's lurking behind the station. His cards are forgotten in his hands as he contents himself with a nice long stare and a soft whistle. He only seems to settle a little as ghe scan reports echo through the cabin.

For smaller craft like Raptors and shuttles, the Anchorage provides platforms for them to settle onto and latch themselves to self-sealing docking collars. Bennett appears to have located one that is still working, and with a little more maneuvering is able to settle the buss down with only a slight jostle. The anchorage's automated system detects the presence of the Colonial craft and settles the ring into place, the status lights Bennett and Kelsey can see from it changing from RED to GREEN as pressure equalizes, indicating the bus' hatch can be safely opened at their leisure.

"As if this couldn't-Dreyer…" Randy stares down at the wet patch Dreyer has left on her. She tries to scoot further from Dreyer but there just isn't room thanks to her suit. She let's out a sigh, resigned to her fate of being puddled by drool.

Callum reaches into his kit, seems to search around for something, then nods. Pulling his hand out, he glances over at Randy. "If he keeps drooling, take a deep breath, hold this in the center and crush it. Then put it under his nose. Guarantee he won't drool on you anymore." He dangles a packet of smelling salts towards Randy, not quite offering it just yet. Mostly hes doing it to mess with Dreyer.

Some pilots try to provide a comfortable ride for their passengers. Others are driven by the objective to get the job done, even if it means a few bumps. There's a light -skreeeeek- of metal as the raptor rides the edge of the docking apron for a brief moment, and then a dull THUNK as she maneuvers the bus in for a lock. Both engines spool down with a low whine, and she finally tears her eyes off the parked battlestar long enough to reach up and disengage the hatch safety. "We are down." A nod over her shoulder to the marines seated behind her. "It's your show. We will lock up and follow you in."

Bran inhales. In the process of exhaling, he stows the picture of his wife. Though he can be of use from his station, the ECO is more worried about the gaggle of marines in need of being looked over before being allowed to disembark from their bus. He goes through the checks and clearances easily enough, signaling for them to prepare to board the station and do whatever it is that marines do: provide security, cannon fodder, and things of that nature. In the end, he stands at the hatch with a large-caliber handgun before opening the way for them to lead on.

"Wasn't me." But Anton isn't even looking over at Randy. Newp. He's too busy watching their approach, as best he can. Plus, he was using her head as a pillow. No way drool would get anywhere but her hair! …right? There is a side-eye towards Callum. "Save it for when you invariably go into a swoon." The 'curb check' on the way in shakes Dreyer the rest of the way awake and he starts unbuckling gear, checking over it all as he waits for the call to roll out.

The offered smelling salts cause Randy's eyebrows to shoot up out of naive impulse before a smile forms. "I'll have to remember that. Proper procedure and all," Randy says to Callum before nodding to Zacharias. She unstraps herself from the bus and pulls her sidearm as she hops down to move into formation.

Bennett happens to catch a glimpse of the picture Bran's stowing, as she unbuckles her safety harness and leans over to retrieve the Five-seveN from under her seat. «Gods watch over us» she asides to him in a low voice, the Tauran foreign-sounding - but phontetically correct - on her backwoods Virgan tongue. She reaches for a compact flashlight too, and one of the pockets of her flight suit is briefly patted down as if to confirm the presence of something there. Something quite small, but evidently important. And once the marines decide who's running this show, she'll bring up the rear.

Zacharias gathers his wits back around him once the Raptor docks. He stows his cards back in a pocket and frees himself from the various straps keeping him in his seat. One last quick check to all his gear and he hops to his feet, his previous murmuring gone as he goes into the on duty voice, his strong Saggie accent makig his voice stand out all the more. "All right boys and girls, let's go take a look around." He takes the front as he waits for everyone to fall in before giving the nod to Bran to open the hatch.

Zacharias gathers his wits back around him once the Raptor docks. He stows his cards back in a pocket and frees himself from the various straps keeping him in his seat. One last quick check to all his gear and he hops to his feet, his previous murmuring gone as he goes into the on duty voice, his strong Saggie accent makig his voice stand out all the more. "All right boys and girls, let's go take a look around." He takes the front as he waits for everyone to fall in before giving the nod to follow him through the hatch.

Seeing that the fun was going to start, Callum shoulders his med kit after securing it, also shoulders his service weapon, and then gets in line. He'll take up the rear of the little group and follow them out, giving Bran a toothy smile as he passes.

With the opening of the hatch, a small corridor beyond is revealed. Sickly yellow light floods the small walk up into the heart of the station and met with a large pair of cargo blast doors that are currently open (Must have cycled open when the umbilical connected). The Anchorage, at it's heart, is essentially a giant can in space - the body of the station is one HUGE storage warehouse with 10 levels all open in the middle to make room for cargo lifts and crates, with space on the bottom level for meintenance and crew space and the connectors to the docking rings. At the moment, peering into the cavernous space beyond the blast doors looks…well, dark.

Kelsey waits for Bennett to get up. She performs the nominal shutdown procedure and the engines can be heard to spool down. To a minimum. She inputs a few settings and leaves the Raptor hot, the reactor still lit and working at minimum fuel consumption. She pushes several buttons to lock it down and then brings up the security screen. The agreed-upon control locks are input and the 10-digit code is encrypted. Once that's done, she stands from the seat and draws her gun, moving behind the others. She has no view of the cavern just yet, but once the door is shut behind them, she opens the access panel and plugs in the key and latches it. The necklace is then passed off the Bennett.

Once up on his feet, Dreyer gets his helmet in place. There's a bit of fiddling to get the earpiece he's wearing set comfortably before he lifts a hand to check the specialized flashlight attached on the opposite side. Satisfied with all that, he verifies the radio he's brought along is lashed properly to the rest of his gear, gets his rifle settled on its sling at front, and sort of lazily slings his way out of the raptor. A grab of strap, hop onto the wing, and then down to plating beyond. He's looking up, around, and taking a few long strides forward with rifle up and tucked against his shoulder. Already preparing to take on a bit of recon to make sure the way is appropriately clear.

<FS3> Dreyer rolls Alertness: Good Success.
<FS3> Kelsey rolls Alertness: Good Success.
<FS3> Randy rolls Alertness: Good Success.
<FS3> Zacharias rolls Alertness: Good Success.
<FS3> Callum rolls Alertness: Good Success.
<FS3> Bran rolls Alertness: Good Success.
<FS3> Bennett rolls Alertness: Good Success.

Bennett threads the chain around her neck, and tucks it in under her flight suit so it's not glaringly obvious who carries the key to their ride out. In case the captain's pins weren't already plain to sight. She draws back the slide on her pistol, thumbs off the safety, and falls in behind her aircrew. The flashlight she brought with her is, for the time being, kept switched off. "We stay together," crackles her voice over the radio. Safety in numbers? "Need some light, Sergeant?"

Randy ensures none of her gear is still in the raptor before things get locked tight in case of an emergency. She has to hustle a touch to get back in front of the pilots. Instead of having a light on her helmet, Randy has one attached to her rifle, which she flicks on easily. "Nifty," she murmurs as she spots Dreyer's setup while falling in with him.

Zacharias keeps on point as he moves down the cavern towards the center of the anchorage, flicking the light on his helmet on, not fully trusting the emergency lights and their dimm illumination to actually reveal any potential dangers. He keeps his trap shut for the most part, a he leads the way. As long as the chatting keeps to a minimum he keeps his eyes forward, at least till they come to the vast darkness deeper in. "Well, then.."

Bran looks to Bennett and lingers with it before actually nodding and otherwise responding. It's a small moment cherished in his own little way, and then the moment disappears in favor of letting him watch each and every member of the away team disembark for the station proper. He lingers long enough to pat Kelsey on the head before stepping out and beyond with everyone else. His pistol is held at his side. He remains quiet, for now.

Kelsey brings up the rear. Last to command from the officers, she has her pistol out and there's another one ready at hand from her thigh. And about five more on her vest. The FiveSeven doesn't have the grenade launcher attachment but she doesn't seem to care. She just moves behind the rest.

The Away Team slowly clambers off the Raptor Wing and starts inward, with the CMC leading the charge, as it were. Things could almost be considered normal, as headlamps shine inward and glance off of cases and crates and racks of heavier munitions beyond the blast doors, giving some indication that the depot hasn't been completely emptied and there MIGHT be something still here. The air tastes stale for those not using breathers, indicating that life support has been on low for a while now, at least a couple of weeks if not much longer. Beyond the blast doors, the cavernous interior of the station awaits, and as at least one of the team approaches the doors, motion sensors register the presence of a moving body, and inside the middle section, lights flicker and flutter, trying to sputter to life after a long dormancy, sending flashes and flickered glimpses of boxes, and ammo racks, and shelves of storage canisters. The Anchorage appears to be stocked, at least at first fleeting glance. The station's administration office, and coincidentally, where the Battlestar is docked, should be directly on the far side of the central chamber.

Zacharias holds up a fist to signal a full stop, then makes a quick gesture to either side of the blast doors. He himself makes towards one side first where he can hopefully get a good view as the lights start illuminating the supplies inside, keeping his scanning up for a few moments before making to pass through the doors himself into the cavernous interior of the anchorage.

With rifle still up against shoulder, Dreyer comes to a stop as the lights begin to come up. He doesn't go fully defensive, but he does hold once those lights begin to come up. There's a glance towards Zacharias and he gives a quick nod, moving towards the left-hand side. Just past and a stop again, taking a steady scan from left to right; in case something stands out. There is a deep breath taken and upon exhale, he mutters: "I don't think we'll want to spend the night." Might be a joke. Kinda. Sorta.

The EOD shines her light on the munitions and identifies them for her recon log, murmuring only the pertinent details. She also takes a still of the rolling footage to finish cataloguing. It all takes only a moment on their driveby, and with a step, she's back in formation. When Zacharias calls them to a stop, Randy takes a step opposite of Dreyer and covers their flank.

Callum holds up his rifle, with flashlight attachment now working. He'll let the others use their doodads to scan and spot, and he'll just keep his pace slow and steady. Seeing Zacharias give the signal to stop, he takes up a position to provide covering fire and waits.

Kelsey steps forward in front of Bennett, letting the Captain bring up the rear. She waits until the lights come on and she crouches a bit, waiting. As she does, she looks around. "Uhm, guys, I used to work Ordnance on the Deck. This? This kinda looks like a wet dream for the fleet." She rises a bit and looks across the lights. her left hand, the one off the gun, points to pallet stacks. "Weird. Almost like the stuff was moved. But we've got five hundred pound bombs. Those over there? Laser guided." Her hand moves. "That's a forty-thousand round stack of Viper cannon ammo. Next to it? Javelin missiles for the Raptors."

Whether or not its a relevant point: The munitions and stores in the central chamber are NOT in nice orderly shape. Things have been moved around whether by hands or by the station being jostled by docking maneuvers, things are shaken up a little. For the Marines, it looks a LITTLE like things were spaced out a little too well. As most of the lights finally come up, the layout is a little more clear, and at least the CMC training would immediately recognize: Someone set this up so that you could use the crates to stage an ambush from. Cases and crates that you can hide behind that you can't see through. Boxes stacked as tall as a human body…or a Cylon Centurion.

Zacharias takes a deep breath as he scans the illuminated sight in front of him. "I'm not liking this one bit. Keep your heads on a swivel." He makes a quick gesture to fall back in line as he makes his way past the blast doors. At least there's plenty of cover to duck behind should things go ass-up real quick. He tries to keep a steady pace, but he's not rushing things, swiveling to check behind crates and stacks as they pass, finger ready to squeeze the trigger should something set him off.

Scanning his rifle across the piles, Dreyer squints. There's a glance to Zacharias and the MP mumbles into his headset. "Notice how they're setup, man? I'm wondering if they were defending the place." If so, they kept it from going up entirely. Which is handy. The man starts a very slow approach forward, pausing as his flashlight glints off of something. Into the mic again: "Looks like there might have been at least a small firefight here."

Rather than walk around carrying a loud weapon in a quiet atmosphere, relatively speaking, Bran simply walks forward and then meanders at a slight angle while holstering his sidearm for the time being. He need not fire at anything as far as he can tell. The air also smells. He wrinkles the bridge of his nose in distaste at that. "Plenty of ordnance, sure, but." He walks back carrying a singular case. It has been struck along its flank by several rounds of a familiar caliber. He nods in the direction of the rifles that the marines are carrying, Colonial standard. Then, he sits it down. It looks like the others already know. "We may die." He can let the marines check behind things, sure. He kneels down to open the case and briefly check the innards for unexploded ordnance.

The setup that her fellow Sergeant is /walking/ them into puts Randy on pins and needles. She flips the safety off of her gun as she follows, keeping her eyes peeled on her side. "Let's try to have some kind of element of surprise? No unessecary chatter. Sir? Would you like me to sweep the room?" she asks to Zacharias.

Indeed, in a few places, there appear to have been stray shots impacting some of the crates, but not many at all - surely if there had been a full blown firefight here, SOMEONE would have hit 'something that does not react well to bullets' and there would have been a nice big mess to meet the crew, if not a huge hole ripped open to outer space in the middle of the floor.

Kelsey moves up behind and seems to suddenly realize something. She holsters her sidearm. It's a moment for her. She seems to take the hint to be quiet and looks over her shoulder to Bennett, then she slips up to Zacharias. "Do us a favor? Don't shoot in here. Some things in here don't react too well to bullets." Like her. She doesn't react well to bullets. Or sequential detonations of twenty-thousand pounds of bombs.

Marine she isn't, but Bennett's done enough ground ops to know when they're walking into a potential trap. She tries to keep one wall - or at least a wall of munitions crates - at her back, sidearm unholstered but not actually pointed at anything. "Bear." The man's callsign is spoken low over the wireless, in the tone of a.. warning? "A reminder, Zacharias, that we are not to engage the enemy, if at all possible." Then why she hasn't safetied her own firearm is a very good question.

Zacharias gives Kelsey a flat look as she sidles up next to him and asks her favor. It just screams 'do I look like an idiot?' Though sometimes, he does in fact look just like that. He turs over his shoulder and gives Randy a curt nod. "Do it." He's at least paused in his forward path. "No bodies. No tin cans." He gives another sweeping gaze of the area around him.

Bran hears his callsign and looks up. He holds up a grenade from the canister he has been fiddling with, questioning Bennet with its mere explosive presence. He returns to being quiet but he does point at the bullet holes before pointing notably in the direction of the would-be battlestar. Nowhere else. That's where the shooting came from. In the meantime, he picks the container of standard issue hand grenades up and totes it underneath his right arm while braced with his left. It's coming with him. For reasons.

"No one move. I'm going to sweep for…all the things," bombs, centurions, and bodies oh my! Well not yet. Randy moves quickly when she's given the go ahead. First she doubles back to make sure they're good. Then she decides to move the perimiter to check their blindspots and then work her way from there methodically. As she gains ground, she signals to Zacharias that it's clear to move, stage by stage until they've gotten to the far side where they come upon a door labeled 'Ops' next to one of the docking corridors. She starts to motion for Zach to a safe position in case there are any surprises when her hand drops and she steps aside. "One human dead. CMC Captain." She steps in to get a better look. "Shot two to the head. Splatter job. Someone knew him, or knew what they were doing."

And whenever people get a good sight of him, those that would recognize a One…thats a One. Definitely dead. Doubletapped to the head. More will come on my next emit

The safety has yet to come off of Dreyer's rifle. It's right there, by his fingers. It'll be easy enough to switch if it comes to it. The man is mostly just in that mode. Better to have it in hand to provide cover for retreat than be fumbling with it if something happens. He keeps a relatively low, but light step, moving forward as gestured to do so. Headlamp remains on for those dark corners, where the overhead lights did not come on or penetrate. For purposes of handwavium and since no one has ever made it clear, Dreyer at some point in the new proceedings with Randy leading everyone along relegates himself to the rear of the group. Probably by slowing down to peer into various corners and make sure nothing is lying in wait.

Bennett looks toward the One, her head tilting slightly as she studies him. It? "Ward, any idea how long he's been dead?" Her pale blue eyes cut across to the corpsman, then away again as she does another shoulder check across the cavernous space. "Check for spent rounds in him. Colonial or otherwise."

Kelsey doesn't move. She waits for the rest of the Marines to move before she makes any sort of twitch. When she does, she moves with the rest, towards the rear. Pilot's are sort of needed to GTFO. Because Kelseys face looks like, after the echanged words, like she's okay with that. Her hand stays on the pistol, ut it stays in the holster. Too many explodable things nearby and she knows better. For the moment.

The crew has a few moments to consider the body and consider it, when from inside the darkened doorway of ops, there is the muffled sound of movement, a scuffling, and a strangled voice '…frak'.

When asked not to move, Bran does not move. He looks around and then refocuses on the ordnance around them up until Randy returns with more information for the team to suck in. He rolls a grenade within his offhand after closing his case up, still carrying it with him and now by the handle with his right hand. He looks over and past everyone at the body before turning at an angle and looking elsewhere.

And there's some of that particularly flavorful language again as Zacharias follows Randy towards Ops and sets eyes on the body. "That's what I think it is, isn't it?" He scrubs his hand over his face for a moment. He takes a moment to think in silence, his eyes darting towards the door once the sounds emerge. There's no guarentee that that's an enemy but he's not taking chances, he signals for everyone to back away or find cover. His gun comes up and points into the darkened doorway. "Come out, slowly, hands where I can see them."

Randy steps just inside a little further to let others get access and vision to the body, but also to finish clearing the room. And then there's the noise… "Get down on the ground!" Randy shouts, lifting her rifle. It's already got the safety off and that handy flashlight mounted to it shines into the darkness. How convenient.

Back of the party. It's fun. Dreyer can't even see the body; he's hanging back and making sure no one sneaks up behind them. There's a nod to Kelsey. More of a gesture with his chin. "Don't hang back too much," he mutters. "'Cause then I gotta hang back and everyone starts asking questions and it's just a whole mess." He even pairs it with a flash of a grin; trying to help her with the nerves he's perceiving in the JG.

Marines and their guns and their shouting. There's a slight tic in Bennett's jaw at all the weapons suddenly bristling, but she keeps her cool and remains in formation, where she can maintain oversight of the aircrew and let Dreyer do his job.

The light that Randy shines into Ops flickers around, showing a couple of dead consoles and a couple of legs, then finally a body slumped against the far wall, facing the doorway. A Colonial Navy blue duty uniform with officers pins and a Naval patch (both too hard to make out from this distance and this light), splattered with blood and burns, a young man with dark hair, one eye closed with a fresh scar across his face, sagging to the side, leaning on a pistol he has pinned to the ground, like he was trying to raise it, and failed. He looks like shit. Oh, and like this:

Kelsey looks over to Dreyer and ends up leaning herself against a stack of 30mm. A tall one. She glances at it then looks over to Dreyer. she gives a zipped mouth gesture before looking back towards the room.

Zacharias keeps his gun leveled at the man, not the dead one, the moving one. It'd be silly to point it a the dead one. "Push the gun away." No chances taken, there's a flick of his gaze towards Randy to make sure she's still trained on th man as well. "If I see you lift it I will shoot." He hardens his voice, trying to sound as serious about the threat as he can manage.

"Yes sir, disarming him now." Randy calls out loud enough for Zacharias to hear her. She advances inside to put her boot on the sidearm and tries to free it from the man's hand while keeping her rifle trained on him. "Are there anymore cylons left?"

One marine at the rear means someone who can clear a path for the air crew if it becomes necessary. When Kelsey stops and leans against the munitions, he gives her sort of a droll look. There's a tilt of his head. Once, twice. A 'get back with the group, plz' gesture.

Up closer, at least Randy can see this man is in no condition to resist. He's a little emaciated, a little pale from bloodloss, and he looks a lot beat up. Randy moves the sidearm and plants her boot on it, and he sags down to his elbow, having lost the little support he was getting from it. Of course, this close she can also see he wears Captain's pins and a patch that proclaims 'Colonial Defense Forces, BSG-75, Galactica'

There is a lot of yelling going on up ahead of them. Lieutenant Bran is not going to step up to find out what all is going on. Instead, he takes a step or two in retreat and lingers with Bennett and the others. Absentmindedly, he places the grenades case back on the flooring in order to place the lone one back inside. When he stands up, he tucks the case under his left arm and rests his right hand at his sidearm. The service pistol remains in its holster, though. He's looking in the direction of the battlestar's hatch.

Bennett, too, stays right where she is. The last thing that's needed is another soldier with a gun. Blue eyes track whatever Bran's doing with the grenades, though she seems to trust him well enough not to do anything stupid. "What do you make of all this?" she asides to him, sotto voce. A glance toward Kelsey, then past her, to the marines at the front who've discovered something in the Ops room.

For those that are lingering close to the back, the connecting tunnel that apparently leads to the battlestar is quiet, with the connecting hatch doors at the end closed, though the status light next to them is green, indicating there IS atmosphere on the other side of them. The rest of the station is deathly silent, and only echoing the noises being made, the shouts of the Marines bouncing up and down 10 floors of munitions racks and bombs and other ordinance.

Kelsey is leaned against the stack of munitions but watches the whole thing. Eyes are wide as she stares at the guy as it all becomes visible. She looks on and looks back to the Captain. "Uh. Galactica? Sir, were we looking at the Galactica parked outside? We need to get on the radio or find command staff." Well, maybe she's learned a thing or two. "I mean Galactica's Command Staff. It's a frakkin Battlestar, sir. We need to steal it like a Scorpian." No offense.

There's a glance towards the tunnel and doors beyond that lead to the battlestar parked outside. Dreyer looks back to Kelsey, shrugs, points at the radio he's wearing. Then there's a cant of head — sending headlamp beam off in some direction — towards Zacharias and another shrug. The man goes back to watching up that tunnel, as well as the way they came.

Realizing he's pretty much helpless, Randy stoops down to pick up the sidearm and puts it in her own holster. "No one reached out to us," Randy points out without looking away from the poor Captain, or who is wearing a captain's uniform. "MPs, looking to you on security guidance here. We don't know what's happened and this guy isn't saying anything," she puts oh so eloquently.

Eventually, the Unknown Officer manages to croak softly, where MAYBE Randy will hear, "Kill…me….please. It'll follow us back…"

Zacharias steps in closer once the man no longer has his gun in his hand, and the marine lowers his own weapon to appear less threatening. That doesn't mean the questions aren't quick in coming, right on the heels of Randy's own question about the Cylons. "How long have you been here?" His eyes take a glance at the patch, eyebrows shooting up towards his hairline. He sighs and looks right at Randy. "Not about to leave some poor bastard to die. Though I'm beginning to think we might want to hightail it out of here."

"Holding judgment until I see what's beyond that, Sir." Bran nods in the direction of the battlestar since he's been looking at more or less the entire time once walking the corridors of the station. He glances back in Bennett's direction before offering a meager shrug. "I don't blame Cylons specifically, for whatever is going on here," he continues in a low rumble, "More along the lines of mutiny. In a way. That I don't like."

"What will?" It's not the first time Randy has heard the words of dying men, but it does show in her eyes a little more each time. She's too absorbed with whatever the Unknown Officer is saying to her to even hear what Zacharias is saying right now. She leans to hear the man better.

Bennett gives only a thoughtful 'hm' to what Bran has to say, and simply raises a brow at Kelsey's commentary. Galactica? Surely not. Holstering her sidearm, she moves past the other aircrew and approaches the Ops room where the downed officer is lying. She sinks into a crouch, helmet tugged off so she can get a better look at him. "Answer his question, please." Zacharias's, that is. "What is your name, rank and station? And is any of your crew still alive?" Her voice is soft, a balm to the dank air and smell of death that lies around them.

Unknown Officer's eyes blink a few times and stare at Zach, then waver a bit and look up at Randy, then pan over to Bennett. His lips part and he manages in a cracked voice, "…he shouldn't have followed Gaeta's course. Know that now. Came back to repair. And the Cylons were…waiting. Dead. They're all dead. Hoshi. Louis." and then collapses onto his side, eyes rolling back in his head.

Kelsey stays away, just watching. She doesn't move from her position, just watching what's happening.

While the others dither and chatter, Dreyer takes a few strides away and towards the tunnel. Not far, no. He stays easily within sight and talking range. But he is angling to get a good sweep of his headlamp over the tunnel. Narrowing of eyes, then he straightens and drops a hand from his rifle to gesture Kelsey over. "El-Tee-" he points, aiming headlamp as well. If she approaches near enough, he speaks in a quiet voice. "KEW fire. By the hatch." A glance back over his shoulder, to their surroundings. "They were shooting at the ship. Got any thoughts on source?" Hey, he listened when she spoke up about the ords.

Randy moves herself to the side, tucking in so she can still hear the Officer but also allow better access to the others. "Frak." She moves out of the way so Callum can get in and do his voodoo. "Out of my depth," she mumbles and then sighs, looking to Zacharias and then Bennett. "It's you guys' show."

It's with a quick pop of his head out of the ops room, Zacharias calls a quick, "Callum, we need some medical attention in here." He steps away to give the other marine space to work and instead silently scans the consoles before turning and stepping out of the room, then right over to Bennett. "I think we got what we came for. We're not equipped to storm a derelict battlestar, and this is just scouting anyways. Thoughts?"

This will leave the Corpsman busy tending to Captain Hoshi, indicating that the man is alive, but suffering from severe exposure, malnutrition, and wounds that have not healed cleanly or well. He can busy himself with getting the man ready for transport back to Orion, but they will need to go Soon where he can get to Medical and the Doctors. Field Medical is not equipped to handle cases this severe.

Kelsey looks over to Dreyer, a snap look away from the guy laying on the ground. Someone from the Galactica. Another Battlestar. It's a lot to absorb. She blinks to Dreyer and then down to the shell casings. "Uh, I guess-" Not exactly the most officerly response. "It looks like they went in? I don't know." She sighs and looks to Zach. The sound isn't the sort to give credence to something sad. She just isn't sure. The girl looks over to him, Bennet still at the rear. "We came here to scout this place and what's here. We don't have to storm. Let's take a look. Your lead. First sign of danger, we back out." She seems like she might say something else but stops herself. Barely 21, she's giving orders to a certain extent. Doing her best?

Bennett frowns ever so slightly as the poor fellow seems to knock off before she's had a chance to mine him for more information. "Sergeant Dreyer, something you would like to share?" She pushes back to her feet, stepping aside to let Callum do what he can. "Bear, help the Petty Officer get the Captain back to the raptor. Try to hail Galactica, and maintain weapons lock." She nods to Zacharias. "We will not be storming the battlestar. But Wescott is right; intel is what we are here for, and so far there are more questions than answers."

"He told me to kill him. He said something would follow us. I would have thought he was just spooked, but the rest of his story was cogent enough to suggest otherwise," Randy offers to Zacharias, Bennett, and anyone within earshot. "We can't afford to have any tails back to the fleet." There's more concern in Randy's eyes than sternness about her.

"Then I say we try to mine those for information." Zach turns his head towards ops and nods towards the consoles inside, the light from his helmet illuminating them for a moment. "Or at least attempt to recover something from them." He casts a look towards the doors that lead to the battlestar, frowning. But Randy's words pull him out of his momentary reverie. "He might also be dehydrated, loopy and paranoid. Can't tell me your time through boot camp you didn't have the guy that didn't drink enough water and started.." He makes a short whistle and circles his finger by his ear.

Indeed with people paying more scrutiny to it, the far end of the tunnel that leads to the Battlestar does appear to have signs of a firefight as well. From the evidence of Colonial small arms fire on the cases, it looks like the shooting came from there. An ambush when the crew stepped off? As for the Ops terminals…they dont look damaged, just dead, no power or signs of power.

"Ship's offline, Sir. Life support at minimal and spotty, at best. Not that I'm against it, either. Don't walk into the wrong room." Bran reminds the group. But he'll attempt hailing the Galactica as necessary and talk to the potential ghosts aboard the vessel. Most importantly. He takes his grenades with him when he intends on assisting Callum in getting the Galactica member closer to the raptor. He happens to take his time with the rescuing if only because it means more stabilization in treating the would-be casualty they intend on stealing from the station.

"Sorry, sir. You were otherwise occupied. KEW fire, aimed towards the - was that Galactica - 's hatch. Trying to get in as the El-Tee said, perhaps." Dreyer looks to Kelsey, shrugs, and just wanders back to his original post to watch and wait.

"Yeah, but do you think you could tell Command that you don't know what's up with the battlestar but it's okay to send a bigger ship this way for the ordnance?" Randy poses the question as she presses her lips together. "Where's our ECO?" Off saving people's lives apparently so Randy doesn't find Bran when her eyes sweep about. "I'll check out the consoles. If our ECO gets back, he might be of help." She walks into the OPs room again to shine her light on the panels and tries to find an On switch by simply pressing buttons methodically, visiting the ones that look like power switches first. No she won't be bothered to read a bunch of little labels in the dark.

"Good idea," Bennett tells Zach with a small, though genuine smile. "We can do a sweep of the terminals on our way out." She nods slightly to Bran as he departs; she likely doesn't expect an answer from the ship, but perhaps she's just covering her bases. "Understood," she tells Dreyer. And then her sidearm is drawn once more. "You have point." That's to Zacharias.

"I don't intend to tell command to bring a retrieval ship in, but I sure as shit don't think we have the manpower to do a proper sweep of an entire battlestar. All it takes is a few clever tin cans hiding out in a corner we forget to look in." Zach rubs the back of his neck with a heavy sigh. How he missed boring guard duty back on Scorpia, those were the days.

From somewhere on his gear, Dreyer surfaces with an energy bar. The man takes up a post leaning against a crate that provides him a view back the way they came and towards the tunnel that leads to the Galactica. His rifle is left be on its sling and he opens the bar to chow down. And wait for instructions.

With Bennett moving off, it leaves Kelsey technically in charge. Technically. At least she's old enough to legally drink now. She watches what's going on and lets her gaze travel over the Marines before looking back to Zacharias. "We're not clearing anything with this many people. We're going to walk to the Galactica's CIC and see who we can find. If we don't do it then someone else is just going to have to come back and do it for us. Who has a radio? Can you let Lieutenant Bran know what we are doing?"

"True, true," Randy calls back to Zacharias as she fiddles with the consoles. "Zacharias. Do you want me on this? I can see if it has any local memory banks or storage. Something we could yank for further analysis back at Orion?" She sits herself right on top of a flat portion of the controls. It's got a lot of buttons, but nothing like a joystick or anything.

<FS3> Randy rolls Repair: Good Success.

Anton Dreyer has a radio. A radio he pointed out to Kelsey just earlier. There's a sort of glance in her direction and the MP just lets out a sigh before toggling it on, dialing into the Raptor they all came in on. "Raptor Two, Recon." since One is hovering outside. "Making attempt to breach Galactica and reach her CIC." And then the channel clicks as he goes back to finishing his energy bar, to await further.

"If you can extract the memory we can get it back to the Orion and let the intel nerds have their fun with it." Zach is still keeping his eyes on the entrance to the Galactica, then lets out a heavy sigh as he scrubs a gloved hand over his face. "Fine, fine, but first sign of trouble and we're pulling out. Especially since our medic is busy with other things." There's a war of emotions on his face. He wants to dive into the battlestar as much as the others, but he's also weighing their safety, the conflict is visible.

Lukas Bran assists their resident corpsman long enough before needing to spend his time elsewhere. The Raptor is still locked down, namely in thanks to the pilots of the adventure. He still has some of his borrowed hand grenades, too, just in case, and his hand cannon rests across his lap while doing up the front of his flight suit. His earpiece hums with the voice of one of the marines. "This is Raptor Two, go ahead." He owlishly blinks at the station's innards while listening to Dreyer. Standing up, he squares away his equipment. "Good copy, Recon," he checks the time before making a note, "Headed for C-I-C, time now. Need me back there?"

Bennett lets Bran handle the radio communications with the ground team, and helps retrieve the raptor's first aid kit along with a blanket, and whatever else she can find that might prove useful. She's also taken the liberty of contacting the raptor on overwatch, to apprise them of the situation with a brief status update that's short on detail but serves to let them know that all is well - and that they'll be a while longer. "Let's go," she tells Bran in a low voice, with a nod to his grenades. "Bring a couple of those with you, just in case." She, herself, is going for another magazine for her sidearm before she swings back out of her seat.

Kelsey nods slowly to Zacharias. "Like you said, we're not a large enough force to secure a battlestar. Let's go as soon as they return." She takes a few steps back and moves around a bit to get a look at the pallets and what all is here. Mentally she is ticking off what's been seen and it's already a lot. She doesn't notice that she's resting her hand on the nosecone of a laser guided bomb as if it were a casual thing.

And still, the Anchorage and its crates and crates of things that go boom, sit silently. And that cargo door sits bearing witness to Cylon firearms while it's little green status light goes BLINK…BLINK…BLINK…

There's a look towards Kelsey as the words come back over the radio, but- she's busy. And so is Zacharias. Dreyer finishes off the energy bar, leaves the wrapper like a little gift across a crate, and brushes crumbs from his fingers. Satisfied his hands are clean enough, he toggles the radio again. "Two, copy. We could use your expertise, El-Tee." Computers and all. The MP leaves it at that and settles back to check over his rifle, an eye still on that tunnel. Just in case.

"Yeah, I wasn't going to listen to their recommendation of staying behind anyways." Bran offers as an aside to Bennett while bending down for another grenade. He rolls it between forefinger and thumb before holding it out in offering. It's a heavy case if they come into contact. He is not going to take them all. His other hand busies itself with the intent to respond over the radio. "On our way, Two out." He begins walking.

The random butt-love button mashing doesn't warm up the consoles anymore than the methodical one by one pushing. Well not like that anyways. "Right. I'll get on that," since she can't seem to help herself from starting a little prematurely. She reaches into her tool belt to grab a driver and hops down to kneel in front of the panels below the consoles. She holds a handheld pen flashlight with her driver and makes quick work of the panel. "We just need to get it some juii-…." she grumbles unintellibly at the mess of fried and frayed wires spill out like the intestines of a pig. The modules are still there, but she's not the first one to try and yank them. "Frak me." She clips her targets free pretty quickly so she can look at what she's working with. She shines her light over the circuitry to identify where the power should feed and then notices the damage across the PCB. "Well the control module is gone." Then she turns her attention to the memory module. She reaches into her kit to strap on an anti-static strap and grounds it to the ship after hooking everything back just enough to get it to conduct and ground itself. Finally, she cracks the memory module open just enough to peek inside while squatting next to the guts, which apparently is enough for her to just toss the thing out of her hand and let it clatter to the ground. She walks back out of the OPs room with nothing, and simply shakes her head at Zacharias. "There's nothing we can take back. Everything's busted, conveniently."

Zacharias peers at Kelsey, then peers at the missile she has her hand on, then back to the young woman. "Don't blow us up." He peers back inside the door to ops as he hears Randy call out. "Well, isn't the fraking special. Good work, anyway. Join us out here, let's get this going." He moves a bit towards the center. "I'm thinking Flynn on point, Dreyer at the rear, I'll take up second, wingies behind me." He winks at Bennett, "Try not to shoot me in the back."

"You got it, Zach." Same rank. There ain't gonna be no 'sir'ing around here, newp. Dreyer just keeps up his spot. He was already in the rear. Re-taking it is gonna mean letting everyone make their way past him. So? He just chills for the time being. All gear checked, rechecked, and energy bar recently consumed. He's good.

Bennett returns a short time later with their ECO in tow, sidearm holstered along with an extra magazine of ammunition, and her helmet tucked under one arm. "Any luck with those consoles?" she asks Randy on her approach, blue eyes fixing upon the blast door leading to the docked Galactica like she's taking its measure. To Zach, "First thing we'll need to do is see if we can get life support running again. Squire, can I put you in charge of that?"

Randy stows away her tools and pulls out her sidearm. "No dice, sadly." She nods to Zacharias and offers Dreyer a little grin as she passes. "You going to watch my ass? I don't make the best of shields," she says as she waits for everyone to regroup. "Right. Zach. Opening the door." Randy reaches out to the cargo door console and beep boop beep.

Kelsey looks to Zach and smiles a little. "Oh I have better uses in mind for this ordnance, Marine." She looks over to the bomb and gently pats the seeker head as if it were A Good Boy. Mebbe a little scritch under the chin, too. Kisskiss. She looks back over to Bennett and leaves the ordnance behind and nods. "Aye, sir. Ah," she thinks, scratching the back of her head. "Computer controls in CIC, I think? The manual controls are in Engineering. Pretty sure I know where they are at, Captain."

Bran idly counts on his fingers as he listens, all after taking a sip from a background container that he's since replaced back on his person. Life support is off. The reactors are cold. Use of the engines is nonexistent. Ghost ship. The face he makes after four fingers have been counted is not pleasant, but he's already talked about all of this so relaxes sooner than later. Head to CIC. Steal anything that is vital. "I'm going to stand right here while you do that." It's conveniently next to cover.

The display responds fairly easy to commands and the status lights blink a few more times before the doors themselves thud and clack. Mechanisms start up and the doors slowly open inward, revealing a darkened passage that extends another 20 feet or so to one of the Battlestar's primary loading airlocks…which is currently open. With the only available light coming from the Away Team's headlamps, the airlock looks like a portal into inky blackness.

"Too many other asses," Dreyer notes to Randy as she heads past. The man pushes himself away from the crate he'd been leaning on, looking towards the doors. There's a moment of bracing self as they begin to open and he mumbles something about oxygen tanks possibly being handy. There's a glance to Bran and a tensing of jaw. "They may need you in CIC. And I don't think I should go leaving their tail uncovered while I babysit you." Pause. "Sir."

Bennett smirks ever so slightly as she watches Kelsey and her Good Boy. Once a greasemonkey.. "Good." A light squeeze for the younger woman's shoulder as she passes. Keep her busy; it's Kelsey Handling 101. "Bear, from what I understand, Galactica's computer systems are fairly archaic. Do you want to take a crack at trying to pull what you can from them, if we make it up to CIC?" Her gaze swings back to the airlock once the door's popped open, thumb brushing the grip of her sidearm absently.

"I don't need no shield. I just want someone in front of me I can use as a gun mount." Zach shoots Randy a crooked smile, a smile which fades a bit as the door slides open. "I'll leave the particulars to you airwing folk, chunks of metal that hurtle through space aren't my specialty. We'll probably need a good ECO in there." There's one last look over the group before his gives one final satisfied nod. "Alright, don't be afraid to scream if you see something coming for us. Let's move out."

"Anyone know the way to CIC?" Randy skips a beat before she chuckles softly. "Just kidding." With her first step, it's like stepping into a video game…well one that Randy is deathly serious about. The jokes seem to fall a little by the wayside when her attention needs to be on navigating and not getting ambushed. "Scream?" Randy murmurs. "Who does he think I am?" She grins as she heads into the darkness, letting her light guide their way and spot potential flanking spots that she calls out to the team as they pass.

"I mean that I am not going to stand out in the open and get shot in the face, just in case, Sergeant." Bran points downwards and to where he stands while looking across in Dreyer's direction. The doors clank and noisily sound off in moving aside, and he looks up and elsewhere to the echoes they produce. They're louder than everyone's voices. He squints into the distance. "It's something of a 'once in a lifetime' opportunity, so of course I do." His attention returns to the others and with that, he patiently walks forward and into the darkness.

The first thing that greets the team as they step forward is the air: Its stale and rancid, and anyone who's spent time in a field hospital since the war started will recognize the stench of death and old blood. The walls just inside the airlock are PEPPERED with autocannon fire - indeed, this airlock is useless due to the number of penetrating holes shot through both doors. Something very very bad happened here.

Kelsey smiles a little to Bennett at the shoulder squeeze and then looks towards the inky blackness of the hole. Well, this box isn't going to open itself. She takes a light from her survival vest and aims it into the hatch, walking that direction as her other hand draws the sidearm.

Kelsey smiles a little to Bennett at the shoulder squeeze and then looks towards the inky blackness of the hole. Well, this box isn't going to open itself. She takes a light from her survival vest and aims it into the hatch, walking that direction as her other hand draws the sidearm. Feeling the stale air blow over her hair and skin was expected, but the stink. Blood and death. She knows that smell. Her eyes stare at the holes blown into the steel and the damage done. "Frak me," she breathes.

Didn't he just say something about masks? Well, oxygen tanks at least. Dreyer just sort of grunts after Bran and waits until the last air-duckling has moved forward before he, himself, proceeds. There's the half-turn that keeps their six in view, but also allows him to at least look at the backs of heads ahead of him. "How many bodies we got up there? Rough count?" Because, based on stench, he's assuming a lot.

Randy has to fight off the initial instinct to take her hand off her gun and cover her face at the stench. She pushes forward through the airlock to clear the corridor. "No mercy…" The words tumble out belatedly in reaction to the airlock. "Do I really have to count? Even roughly?" She's not swinging that light around for bodies, only the very next objective and live threats, but that doesn't mean her light doesn't wander.

Bennett knows that smell, too, far better than a pampered pilot has any right to. Her nostrils flare at the pungency of it, but she doesn't bother using anything to staunch the smell. "Keep moving," she instructs the group, as if they needed the encouragement not to stick around and breathe in the dank air. Her sidearm is drawn once they've put sufficient distance between themselves and the armoury's stockpile of live ammunition, though for the time being, there's really nothing to defend themselves from but the shadows.

As the team closes in and can see a little better: There are ample bloodstains on the walls, usually coupled with clusters of bullet and KEW round hits, which probably makes for mental images of someone getting their brains blown out right THERE…but not a single body to be found. Not even a smashed Centurion, or a part from either. The ship so far appears to be a ghost town, with no signs of power but what the team brought with them. While the layout of a Galactica class ship isnt PRECISELY the same as a Mercury Class (The Orion), things are still in the same place, you just have further to walk…

Kelsey steps into the blackness and runs her light over the walls. She stares at the bloodstains and brain matter. It's hard to keep from looking. The fear in her eyes begins to grow, but she's keeping her wits about her. This is clearly not what she wants to be doing and probably regrets the hell out of what she said earlier. "Ever give orders you want to kick yourself for?" she mutters to nobody in particular, the words whispered. "This place feels like a tomb." She does, however, continue moving. Her gun stays down at her side, but the light continues to move. Pitch black beyond their lights. There could be ghosts here - and the unfriendly kind. Not like P. There's noplace like home.

"Rough count would be fine," Dreyer points out, but soon enough he's inside and the man finally looks down, around, and stalls. "…you could have said zero." There's a slightly off measure to his tone. He's disturbed by that. Headlamp pans over walls, over floors. "Something cleaned up." A glance to the blood on the walls. "Kind of. I recommend everyone keep eyes out." And he's lingering back a few steps, checking in any open hatches as they pass and making sure to do regular sweeps over their tail. The safety is still on his rifle, but his fingertip lingers near it and he leads with the barrel.

"No bodies.." Zach shakes his head as he looks about, the light on his helmet flashing across bullets holes and damage. "Just blood." He doesn't cover his nose, just keeps his hands on his gun and breathes through his mouth to avoid the worst of the stench. "Feels, nothing. This is a tomb." He shakes his head and keeps moving, muttering a soft prayer under his breath, not something he often speaks.

Further to walk…through the detritus of death. Pretty soon, Randy's starting to catch on that she /hasn't/ seen a body, and so she actually starts to keep a look out for them. "Zero!" she calls back to Dreyer in the rear. "Tombs have bodies and I haven't seen any yet, just-" she shines her light on the a blotched wall panel. "Anyone else seen anything? Toaster bits? Anything?" Still she moves the group forward towards their objective, trying to keep her mind from playing tricks on her and imagining the bodies or the looks on their faces in the shadows…what /should/ be there.

Bennett notes the lack of bodies, but doesn't loiter about to ponder the mystery of it. Unless prevented from doing so by one of the marines, she's up at the front this time, helping to lead the charge into the inky black. "None that I have seen, either," she tells Randy over her shoulder, stepping around the corner of a corridor and swinging her Five-seveN to point the barrel downrange. Nothing but blood and gore and that stench that has her gut briefly tightening in protest.

Footsteps echo hollowly down the corridors - huge passageways that could handle 3-4 crewmen side by side now carrying a lone team as they inch their way forward to CIC. Lights cast shadows that can seem to move from time to time, as open cargo cases and boxes can be found occassionally strewn about amidst the blood. Open hatches allow glimpses into heads and linen closets where some supplies still cling to the shelves, but there seems to be no theme or reason behind them, just the fact that for the amount of blood splattered along the walls, there ought to be a pile of bodies here, and not so much as a finger to be found.

Bran breathes in and out of his mouth in trying to avoid the use of his nose. It makes him look labored and more tired than he actually is, squinting after beams of light while he paces at some point to the center. "I'd say I told you so, but I'd throw up right after." It's darkly, gruffly stated while in the process of looking upwards. The usual hum of mechanical, background life is gone. With that low din missing, all of their actions feel too strong, too intimate. He abruptly stops and takes a knee. A penlight is clicked on and he runs a hand over a print encased in dried, old blood. It flakes under touch. "Centurion model here, here, and there." He shines it in the direction of travel before standing, looking, and then continuing to CIC. Slowly but surely. His sidearm is drawn.

Nope. Nope. Nope. Nopebadger off the frakkin cliff. Spread eagle. "I'm not sure how many Marines you need to clear this place but I'm not sure there are enough anywhere." This is more than a little terrifying. "I felt more comfortable when I was shot down on Picon." Her gaze drifts into the open hatches and blast doors, down the hallways, looking to the closets. "Think it's been here since Warday?"

In one of the heads revealed, Dreyer does a sweep and steps on through the hatch. "I gotta take a leak," the MP offers, blithely. Hey, might as well while you can, right? "I'll catch right up." It's not like it takes long to do such things and he's the tailgunner anyway. Heck, chances are no one will even notice.

"What the frak? Since when do they take our dead?" Zach manages to sound personally offended by that idea. He looks over his shoulder a Dreyer calls out his need, and a look comes over his face like he can't believe what he's hearing. He just lets out a heavy sigh, which seems to be a mistake, causing him to gag a little.

"Uh," is all Randy can say when she hears the word 'leak' coming from Dreyer, especially since she doesn't catch the rest of it. "Stay on course or wait to regroup with…Dreyer?" she calls back to Zach as she reaches up to scratch an itch on her nose with her sleeve.

The head…well, you certainly don't want to sit DOWN on anything, we'll say that much. Stall doors are broken, and it probably wont be discovered until its too late to do anything about it, but the water system isnt working, either…

"We wait," Bennett opines, very little of what she's actually thinking showing on her face, as is her wont. But suffice to say, if something should clamber up out of the can and take a bite out of Dreyer, she probably won't be too sympathetic. In the meantime, she shines her flashlight around the bulkhead walls of the corridor, idly hunting for any control panels that might access main Engineering. A blood spatter, too, is inspected with a brush of her gloved thumb to see if it flakes or smears.

Nope, no need to sit. Or touch anything other than his own damn self. Dreyer isn't even too concerned that the water flow isn't working. There's stench enough already and the drain takes care of most of it. Whatever. In all, it doesn't even take a minute. He arches a brow as he steps back out, shrugging. "Should've gone on ahead. Pretty sure nothing's behind us." And he's been looking, too.

Kelsey stands by and waits. She doesn't want to even risk leaning against a wall. She just keeps her light aimed down the long corridor, staring into the distance. Once Dreyer returns, she looks back to him, then back forward. She'll start moving again when everyone else does. Luckily in the low light nobody can see just how pale the Pican woman really is.

"We wait." Zach agrees with Bennett. Not that the marine is too happy to stand around in a blood drenched hallway waiting for some guy to piss, that's just too many bodily fluids for his taste. He just fixes Dreyer with a exasperated look as he reappears and makes a motion to continue on.

The whole walk to CIC? Is more of this. Blood, dried blood, that maybe thankfully begins to thin out a bit the further and further away you get from the airlock. When the team approaches the main doors on this side, they are not just open, but blown off their hinges, the hatch doors scattered a good 10 feet further down the hall from a blast of what might have been a couple of grenades or a well placed anti-vehicular rocket. Perhaps Adama put up a last stand?

Bennett merely arches a brow to Dreyer upon his return, and then pivots on her heel and continues on down the corridor with soft, muted clangs as her boots strike the deck plating. The air's breathable at least, so there must be some sort of life support still running on board the battlestar. "Someone please figure out what took out those doors," she pitches over her shoulder to the group, stepping over a few twisted hunks of metal that must have been brackets of some kind.

"Just following orders," Randy replies to Dreyer with a shrug before giving a little bang to a panel nearby and signalling them to move on Zach's orders. "Let's go," she adds, "I trust no one else needs a potty break," she calls back to the rest of the group as she make their way, trying to bring some light into the dire situation. She forces herself to take a few deep breaths to compensate. As they approach the CIC, Randy lets out a, "Ouch." She steps up to the scoring where the explosive met the metal flesh of the craft.

Aaaaaand Mr. Tailgunner doesn't even know the lay of the CIC. Or what's being seen beyond the blasted doors. He has no clean space of wall to lean against, so Dreyer just rotates, keeps an eye back down the command corridor, and double… triple… quadruple… you get the point checks his weapon.

Kelsey stares at the position of the doors. Then the explosive residue left on the walls. The doors again. She looks at more bullet holes on the walls and shakes her head. Nope, this is not settling well with her. She's had to stop looking at the walls. "I'm on life support," the JG speaks up as she gets ready to move on inside.

Randy looks back to Dreyer. "I could use some help with this. More eyes is better than less. Help me check for evidence of a trap. Just…anything that looks weird to you," is the layman's way of putting it. It's not easy to look in the dark, especially under the harsh glare of their lights. "Shit ton of explosives," she angles her thumb towards the door that lies busted out in the hall. "See…the blast of the door suggests explosives set on the inside." She's not trying to sound condescending, but it really isn't rocket science.

Inside CIC is a mess. Some consoles show obvious blast damage and almost everything is shot to hell. Nothing has power, but on closer inspection, some of the blast damage seems to have been repaired in places - a panel showing obvious burn and blast damage has a screen in it that shows none of that…but is shattered by a few KEW rounds it took. For the forensically minded, this would seem to indicate that the blast that blew the CIC door off happened a long time BEFORE the firefight that bathed the ship in blood. But then, people probably aren't immediately paying attention to that.


Well, because on the main screens over the primary map table, there are, written in what looks like dried blood, the words 'REPENT YOUR SINS'. One screen seems to have had those words cleaned off, but not very well, as the stain of the blood continues to tint the glass.

Bennett has her Five-seveN at the ready, and her shoulder to the bulkhead wall as she creeps through the blasted-open doors of CIC, and up the three short steps that form the threshold of Command. It's not a place she spends much time as an active duty pilot and squadron commander, though she's likely less of a stranger to its innards than most here. What begins as a response to Randy's summary of her study of the blast doors turns into a soft, barely-heard epithet thick with her native accent. She angles toward the map table, and reaches out to touch that screen.

Zach casts a glance around the CIC as everyone gets to work on their individual tasks. He glances over the consoles with a shake of his head. "Wouldn't be surprised if they sabotaged the consoles to keep information out of enemy hands. I would." He takes up a position where he can keep an eye on the going ons, and his eyes down the hallway the way they came to.

"Uh, I'm not gonna be able to tell jack from shit, Flynn," Dreyer calls over his shoulder, leaning to try to glance around Bear towards the CIC proper. "They don't teach us MPs anything about demolitions." There's a bit of a handwave down the hall. "I'll watch to see if anything twitches."

Kelsey steps in behind a Marine and Bennett and slows down. She barely shuffles along, staring up at the damage and what's written on the screens. "Sins. Repent." The girl looks pretty unnerved by all this, but steadfastsly refuses to let her fear control her. "Focus on the task," she whispers to herself, the words finally seeming to force her vision away from the blood. She walks past and frowns, noticing that some of the workstations have been repaired. "Uh, Captain?" she offers, moving towards life support. "Looks like someone was alive after whatever happened here before someone tried to fix some of these consoles." She steps around one row of sets and walks down to the right workstation. A chair is picked up off the floor and put right side up before she plops into it and tries the rockerswitch for powering up the station.

The Map table still has a few transparent sheets left on it, where what LOOK like some crude navigation charts have been drawn (Since Bennett is right there to see), but they do not represent any system she or anyone else in the group would have knowledge of, even in passing. Critical Engineering (Life support, hull status, etc) represents a wall on the left side of CIC that is dark while Kelsey approaches it. A little fumbling around and two indicators finally light up on the Damage Control wall, indicating that both Primary power (main reactors) is offline, and Secondary Power (Batteries) is gone. Nothing on this ship is going to start up with both of those offline.

Bran stops staring at the words written in blood and peels his attention elsewhere, raising an eyebrow at something someone else says. He refrains from commenting. Instead, he walks away from the marines at least temporarily and meanders to the side. He runs a gloved hand along one of the more recently repaired terminals. "Can you resurrect the ship, kid?" asks Bran of Kelsey, returning from his thoughts.

The EOD hasn't seen the writing. "Oh yeah," Randy was trained to be in the field working side by side with other EODs after her initial training and first tour. Her cheeks flush in the darkness, thank the gods for that. Then she says nothing more of getting Dreyer's help and moves back to inspecting the blast. She works from the inside out. She looks at the immediately exposed wiring, well what's left of it, and finally works her way back to the controlling units. "Someone tried to repair this damage. Whatever-" She turns to see the words written in blood and simply stands there, staring at it. Then she lifts her hand and points to the screen where words have been cleaned off, but doesn't say anything.

"Yes," Bennett replies to Kelsey quietly. Whether that's to the repenting of sins, or the observed sequence of events that must have taken place on board Galactica, isn't entirely clear. Her fingertips trail along the screen as she steps away from it, and takes a brief look over the map table. The sheets draw her eye, and she scoops up what she can with only a brief once-over before moving on. Leaving any data extraction from the main computers to Bran, she instead does a tour of the room, hunting for any details that might help piece together the mystery.

As the others filter in, Dreyer is finally able to as well… though he hovers in the gaping wound that used to be the CIC's blast doors. Rifle up, in shoulder pocket, and aimed down the corridor. Just in case something comes from further within the bowels of the ship. He does finally cast a glance over his shoulder to the words smeared in blood. "My guess? They came here after War Day to do recon much like we are and something went awry. That One back on the anchorage? Might've let some friends in. Cylons tried to hold the anchorage… maybe the Galactica managed to stop them but at their own loss." Shrug.

Bran raking his hand across one of the partially repaired terminals seems to have activated something, as a couple of lights come on and a warbling voice echoes in the dark room. It makes no sense for several seconds then clarifies a bit, "Colonel Tigh, Excecutive Officer and acting Commander of the Galactica. We are crippled and limping back to Ragnar in the hopes of finding any other element of Fleet that has survived this holocaust and to warn them not to follow the reports of Earth. There is no Earth. I only hope….' and then garbles again for a few more seconds, then stops.

Kelsey works her way through the station and flips a few things. She runs her fingers through her hair, right over the top, and sighs as she watches the two indicators. She even tries recycling the system. Sometimes it pays to have been on Deck. Like her last outting also. But when the lights come up the same she turns to look at Bran and lifts a shoulder. "Whoever shut this ship down yanked the battery back-up unit for Critical Systems. We're going to have to…" She stops when Tigh's voice is heard and she stares. "My Gods, they went looking ..for Earth?"

"The blast happened before all this shit, so that would fit with sabotage," Randy looks back to Dreyer, letting her arm drop. "I assume the On-" but she quiets up with Colonel Tigh's voice breaks through. "Repent…repent," she rolls the word around on her lips and in her brain. "They must have been desperate…or had some sort of lead," she thinks aloud, her tone suggesting she's only spitballing.

Bennett's brows furrow as she listens to the recording, though her feet continue to carry her forward, so she can complete her circuit of CIC. To Bran, "Please pull what data you can. I would like to see whether there are any salvageable vehicles on the Flight Deck before we go. Sergeant Dreyer, will you accompany me please? You too, Wescott. Unless you think there is any more we can do from here." The ship's a writeoff. But the mission stands: bring back what information they can. And a raptor or two wouldn't hurt, either.

Zacharias perks up as he hears words coming from one of the consoles. "Earth.." He shakes his head and lets out a low slow whistle. He sighs and steps into the room, eyes going towards the charts laid out on the table. "We should take those, too. Information is information. I'll stay here, we can meet up back by the airlock and get the frak out of here once you get a look on the flight deck."

"Maybe we should see if there's still any Raptors on deck with intact gun cameras," Dreyer murmurs once the voice has faded. He crouches, briefly, picking up a piece of the doors that had shattered away. It's turned over, then tossed aside. "Hunting Earth or no… There's no bodies and it's hard to imagine their battle ended in a perfect stalemate. Someone moved all the dead." Implications of where the Galactica has gone aside, he's still nervous about Hoshi's final words and the lack of dead. But he glances up at Bennett. Similar thoughts there, perhaps. He gives a quick nod to the Captain and makes to lead the way. So far nothing's come up on their tail, so he seems relatively confident there. But further ahead? And towards the hangar? There's no telling.

"I'd like to salvage any valuable handheld equipment," Randy pipes up. And of course she's the type to swipe anything she might be able to trade if she gets the chance. "Not as a priority, just, opportunistically," she says. It pays to let people know you aren't dallying about.

"No, sir. Nothing else we can do from here. I, uh-" It takes a moment. Earth. They came BACK to the colonies. She shakes her head to get it cleared. "We'll have to get the reactors hot in order to pull power for life support, Captain. I am most definitely not qualified to cold-start a Battlestar's reactor." She starts to move with the senior Raptor lady. "Did he say they limped back to the Colonies to warn us? Warn us about.. what? Cylons?"

So with that determination made, Bennett, Dreyer, and Kelsey head out while Bran and Randy and Zach remain behind to scour the rest of CIC. For those that remain in CIC, the ship hasn't been swept completely clean: The Tactical Officer's station log book has logs leading up to about 6 months ago, written in tiny, meticulous handwriting by someone used to cramming a lot of information in small blanks. The data drives from the FTL computers have been pulled out and shot to destroy them, and left smashed on the floor beside the terminals, and the FTL key has even been broken in half and left beside them.

For those that head out in search of landing pods, one answer comes almost immediately: When heading over to the starboard landing pod, their path is blocked by an emergency decompression bulkhead that's been closed to seal off the section ahead of them, and from the little porthole in the door, they see nothing but the gas of Ragnar. The Starboard pod is gone, and from the jagged edges of metal surrounding the breach, looks like it was sheared off rather than blown off. Odd.

Well, that wasn't precisely expected. Bennett comes away from the porthole with a frown on her face, and gives a shake of her head to the pair accompanying her. Sidearm holstered, she makes her way around to the portside flight pod's access stair. "Any ideas as to what might have caused that?" The question's posed to both of them as she moves.

What is the daughter of an Aquarian bootlegger to do when left with free time in a dead CIC? Snoop of course. Randy is rather meticulous about it. She even pulls some wiring she deems valuable enough components wise to take back with her. It's like the little pack rat is always foraging for things to add to her little wiry electronics nest. "I wish I could spend a week here at least," a thought that comes out wrong in light of the stench and blood smeared messages about repentence…and brains. She clearly doesn't make the connection in her foraging mode, since she moves on. "Oi, someone check tactical station? I can't remember if I hit that."

There's a shrug from Dreyer after a glance through the porthole. "Something big?" Hey, don't ask a marine about capitol ship combat. He's just here to wave the gun around. As they head for the portside, he's still checking into open hatches and the like. Just in case. "I wonder if most of the crew died before they got here. That might be why there aren't bodies…" Theorizing more comforting theories than those surely creeping up in everyone's minds.

There's only a bit of a sideways look towards Randy as she does her parts gathering. He instead is occupying himself collecting charts and maps from the central station. If the tech is a loss then go for documents. It's an MP's eye he uses to gather together materials, anything his brain registers as possibly useful.

When the group heading to the deck gets to the airlocked section, and is stopped, Kelsey seems confused. "Wait. This- there shouldn't be a-" There's a window there. The blue gas of Ragnar can be seen on the other side. When she peers through it, those eyes go wide. The implications are large. She just stares at the damage, unable to pull her eyes away. "No weapon I'm aware of would rip a flightpod off a battlestar, sir. That's- It's not possible. Like, that is just not possible. Any sort of explosive force would have blown apart the primary tylium feed lines we use to fuel the aircraft." She's walking but not even looking at where she's going, her mind trying to wrap around that. "If those lines go, they explode. There's no stopping the chain reaction once it starts. It will detonate the fuel tanks. The only way to prevent it would be to vent the pipes to space, which we do during a fire." Deck. Damage Control. "But there's no godsdamned blast damage. Something ripped a frakking flight pod off a Battlestar. And someone was alive afterwards to put up a temporary bulkhead.

Bran stops playing with a portion of one of the data drives underfoot all so that he can kick it out of his way and return to walking from one end of the chamber to the other. He leans his weight against one of the consoles. In fact, it is the one that he has touched earlier. "I'm about as useful as a boil," mutters Bran under his breath. Most everything is shattered in some form or another, or shot, and he's left with a notebook from… "The book cuts out about six months ago. We all know what happened then. I'm going to try to recover the Colonel's message."

The log message played back at the console Bran was at seems to be the last one logged in the system, and with a little work, he can find an intact data drive to plug into the terminal and save it to it, but the rest of the ships logs seem to be missing, leaving hte TACCO's log book the only dependable record of what might have been going on.

"Hey Zach…I'm starting to feel a little like it's time for me to get back to the ship." Randy finishes pulling a chip from a circuit board and stows it in a little pouch where it won't touch anything else. Her breathing pattern is a touch different and she's not moving with as much spriteliness as she was earlier.

Bennett brought her helmet with her, and as her flight suit has its own oxygen supply, she's switched it back on as of a few minutes ago. "No answers," she tells Kelsey over her shoulder. "Only more questions. And I am frakking terrible at puzzles." Give her a raptor and a ground full of enemy fire, any day, over this. What began as mild irritation becomes more obvious now, particularly as it becomes harder to breathe. She trudges on for the portside flight pod, resolute.

Zacharias puts his hand on his radio. "Team 1 to team 2, we think we've got what we can, we're heading back to the airlock." He nods at Randy, no need broadcasting the reason to the whole group. He motions towards the corridor and takes point on this trip. "Flynn, you okay to bring up the rear?"

With the two pilots, Dreyer just keeps up checking around corners and through hatches as they go. Safety still on, but hands placed thus that he could change that with a split-second's notice. At the comment over the radio, he just glances back to Bennett, then fore again. He'll keep heading for the portside pods unless told otherwise.

The trip across the ship to the other side shows that mostly, nowhere escaped the trauma of what happened. In a couple of places, internal bulkheads are bent, providing indications that the Battlestar suffered catastrophic physical damage, like a ram, or, well, a flight pod being physically ripped off the ship. The bulkheads to the port side flight pod are at least open, and a few steps into the hangar bay will show that there do seem to be some Mark 2 vipers and older Raptors sitting around, though some of them show small arms fire - canopies with holes shot in them, some of them have probably taken hits that will render them unfliable until repaired, etc.

"Yeah if you're okay listening for a thump," Randy teases as she reaches for her sidearm. "Let's get going before that ceases to be a joke though." She slips her penlight back into one of her pockets. "Ready when you are." She looks back to Bran and says, "Looks like you're the meat in this sandwich. You ready?"

"Copy, team one," crackles the captain's voice over Zach's radio. "We are enroute back to the airlock momentarily. Let's rendezvous at the bus. Team two out." A glance across the flight pod confirms her suspicion that there's something salvageable here, but she seems disinclined to dally much longer. "I shall recommend to Command that we bring out one of the cargo haulers, and see how much scrap we can bring back for parts," she tells her companions. "I think I see at least one serviceable viper in there, but unless you feel like trying your luck with the stick.." She manages a smile, faint, for Kelsey before starting back off down the corridor they came.

Getting down to the hangar deck, Kelsey looks out over what's there and down the long and empty cavern. She stares at the few Vipers and Raptors she can see. "Gods alive, look at this," she whispers. "The place is nearly empty. Could they have lost all this just by coming home?" She turns with Bennett to walk back towards them. "I'd be willing to give a Viper a shot. But no FTL and I'm not flying back to P in a Viper." There's no joke there, she sounds grim. "One of those Raptors will fly, likely."

"Ah, sir?" Dreyer looks over the hangar, then to Bennett as she turns away. "We could at least pull the footage from a few of their cameras before we go." Gesture with rifle, but he doesn't move towards the sitting birds. Yet. "Might give some more insight as to what went on and it won't add to our load too much."

Whereas on the other side of the ship, the group heading back to the Raptor is not running into anything they havent seen before, though Callum is likely starting to wonder what is taking so long.

"Don't worry. You're just getting lightheaded, a little green behind the ears, dizzy, things like that- I did say the ship was dead. I can carry you as needed, Sergeant." Bran calls it out over his shoulder for Randy's sake while pocketing something on his person and stepping away from the console. He then places a hand on it, murmuring under his breath, before altogether walking away and back to the marines proper. The ECO shrugs. They can leave now, and he's all for it.

"..right." Bennett pauses, hand bracing against the bulkhead wall, then tugs off her helmet. She doesn't look too good; her suit probably ran out of oxygen a while ago. "those birds.. aren't going anywhere, Sergeant. We can bring in a team.." A slow, long breath to draw in more oxygen. She just can't quite breathe. "..Wescott, please take over command. I am going to need to return to the raptor."

"Yeah, I just thought with the minimal life support and all," Randy admits as if she was/is out of her depth. "Didn't want to haul out my bomb suit…it's all I brought that's eva rated." That'll teach her. "If you did I wouldn't hear the end of it," she says with a little bit of a nervous chuckle, itching to get out of that ship as soon as possible. She doesn't seem to notice what Bran pockets, or doesn't say anything about it. She's been pulling stuff the whole time.

Kelsey stops are the bulkhead when Bennett pauses and looks pretty tired. The young pilot suddenly looks worried. "Capta- yeah." She looks to Dreyer squarely and the confidence seems to well. For once she knows what to do. "Sergeant, you will help the Captain get back to the Raptor and rendezvous with Team One. Get her on oxygen if we have any in the Raptor. I will meet you there. I'm going back for the Raptor's recon packages." And any gun camera footage she can find. "Good thinking, Marine." She pulls up her helmet, starting to feel her own effects of a lack of oxygen. The neck seal is emplaced and she turns on her emergency bottle. "I'll make this fast. Go. Now." She turns then and walks right out to the hangar deck, flashlight coming up as she walks directly towards one of the start carts. It's still going to take auxiliary power to get the ship's core warmed to get the ECO station checked.

When he realizes Bennett is starting to flag, Dreyer drops the rifle onto its sling and steps up beside the Captain. An arm around her waist and a tilt of head so she can get her own up over his shoulders. But then Kelsey is going off and the man looks fairly torn. "Uh, sir?" This, to Bennett. "…I'll get you back to the ship, but I'd like to formally file my discomfort in leaving the El-Tee alone like this." And he lingers. A little. Uncomfortably. But he will start in helping the pilot back towards the Anchorage and their Raptor.

"Roger that. Meet you back at the bird." Zach's voice crackles out the radio on Bennett's end. "Let's get our asses out of here." He leads his group back through the corridors towards the air lock, constantly checking over his shoulder to make sure that Randy is still bringing up the rear, but he tries to keep up the pace, he's eager to get out of there.

Bran quietly nods to Randy, understanding. He then points forward in motioning for her to walk closer to the front and allow him to bring up the rear. He also doesn't bother looking behind him as they continue along. He apparently feels there is no need. He also happens to be paying closer attention to the others in the group, eyeing them almost critically as they make it back to the Raptor. He's long since holstered his pistol.

Kelsey gets over and notes that the cart is out of gas. And that she's suddenly alone. Alone on a giant murdership with a lot of blood and scary shit. Alone. Did she mention that she's alone? In the dark? She watched a boyfriend play this game once. It didn't end well. Her eyes move to the distant Vipers and there's a shake of her head. Nope. No, time to GTFO. She takes off at a very brisk walk with her gun back out and flashlight up.

Randy shrugs. Officer trumps sergeant, so she makes herself the middle. "Zach, we switched positions. He's got me if needs be." She's not going to ask the group to slow down, because she knows there isn't any air where she is to breathe. Besides, she's not the type. She keeps the chatter to a minimum after that, conservation and concentration. "Think we'll be fine," she finally says, hoping her body doesn't prove her wrong in the meantime.

Once off of the Battlestar…the Anchorage's life support is working, just on sleep mode, so the air 'tastes' much fresher and Now With Less Scent Of Doom And Death, so as long as people make it off of the Battlestar, they're fine.

Moving along with the Captain means slow going. It also means that Kelsey can catch up without too much difficulty. And Dreyer? Looks really relieved when she does. "How you holding up, El-Tee?" He's still managing to breathe alright. Go go marine training. Or just the remnants of youthful athleticism. "Zach," he offers into the radio, "we're heading out. We can see about closing the doors again once we're through."

"Doing okay. Start cart was out of gas and we don't have the time to go finding a different one." She puts Bennett's other arm around her shoulders and helps lift move her. Kelsey spent years in high school swimming and she still does it a lot. Her strong shoulders are a testimony.

Zacharias makes it to the airlock, ushering the rest of his group back into the anchorage before passing through himself. Nodding to Dreyer, Kelsey and Bennett as they come up, frowning at the captain's state. "Let's get out of here." He readies to close the doors once everyone is though.

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