WD: Event - Fire Over Caprica
Fire Over Caprica
Summary: A recon raptor is sent to confirm the data and rumors brought by survivors.
Date: 5/12/2013 (OOC Date)
Related Logs: Little Red Blip, So It Begins
Sebastian Hektor-Ward Meridianst 
Space around Caprica
Debris, raiders, basestars, OH MY!

Orders came down from command and a Raptor was readied and its crew of two given their directive. Jump into Caprica's space and see if what has been reported is true. No more, no less. In and out. Launched and now hanging in dark inky space outside of Orion, Lieutenant JG Ward and Lieutenant Teague are charged with determining what is to happen next.

"Raptor 1647, this is Orion Actual. You are to jump to Caprica and remain only so long as it takes to get readouts needed and jump back. Do not engage, land or contact anyone. Godspeed."

"Booboo, Orion Actual." Sebastian is back at the ECO station, his station already lit up and ready for the jump. "I'm green across the board for FTL jump. Sensors are online. Cameras are online. Vid recorders is online. Jamming protocol is in place for jump." He cocks his head towards Ward. "Ready when you are, Dropout."

"Right," Ward murmurs over his shoulder, reaching to flick a switch on the console and guiding the Raptor away from the Orion, "Let's go and debunk rumors."
For all the nonchalance in his words, it does not reach his face. His brow is furrowed, his mouth set in a grim line and his eyes fixed on the empty space ahead of them. A flick of another switch produces a hum through the craft, "Ready to jump on my mark."
A pause.

Mark. The Raptor jumps, space folds in and out and Orion is gone. The Raptor comes back into view, but far away, jumping into Caprica space. A once blank Dradis save for the Vipers and Orion that they just left turns a bright red with large dots. Two of them and many smaller ones. They are hugging around the orbit of Caprica.

Basestars. Two large ones and their own full set of raiders, squadrons of them. Where are the Colonial ships once in orbit?

A loud ding and scrape against the side of the Raptor sounds, like metal against metal as the bus shudders. Dots of debris float in space, spinning still in their last trajectory from what is likely explosions.

"Gods." Sebastian whispers softly, voice utterly devoid of any emotion, his attention on his screens as he initiates jamming protocols, attempting to keep them off the radar. "I have two Basestars. Several raider squadrons. All in orbit around Caprica. Capturing vid and still confirmation of DRADIS readings. I'm jamming, but we need to get out of here before they crack my protocols."

Ward immediately sets about making a series of minor course corrections, trying his best to walk between the raindrops and avoid debris. His heard turns sharply to the sound of the scrape against the Raptor's side, as though it were a personal afront to him.
"Frak me dead," he announces, sheer bewilderment on his face as he quickly sets about making the preparations on his end for another jump, "Tell me you got all the readings they wanted, Booboo. I don't fly a Viper, it's not my job to piss about with raiders n' basestars."

<FS3> Ward rolls Piloting: Good Success.
<FS3> Sebastian rolls ECM+50: Amazing Success.

The larger pieces of debris are easily avoided by Ward and his steady flying, but a few smaller ones ping and clang off the Raptor. The DRADIS at both seats continues to ping read, it looks RED. All of it red and a small squad of raiders swings by overhead. Not spotting them at the moment. Sebastian manages to keep them under radar with the jamming frequencies, buying them a little more time to inspect the state of things.

Which is none too good.

<FS3> Ward rolls Awareness: Good Success.

"Protocols holding; I've altered all our sensory output to match the ambient radiation of the area. We're invisible, for now." Sebastian has a bit of sweat rolling down his forehead. It's not the first, and as he licks his lips, he tastes salt. "Gods." He whispers again, eyes scanning the readouts. "Heavy nuclear radiation. Debris from several ships. And.." He's silent for a moment. "The bombardment is continuing. I have everything. We need to get back." He checks the FTL drive. "We need to go slow, and pause between jumps to make sure we aren't being followed. I'm not reading anything, but.. Gods. These are Cylons." And they're destroying the Colonies.

<FS3> Sebastian rolls ECM: Good Success.
<FS3> Sebastian rolls ECM: Great Success.

"Bloody hell … " Ward whispers to himself, eyes suddenly wide and fixed on something to his right. Off the starboard side, a frozen corpse in Colonial uniform drifts part amidst the debris. The pilot swallows hard, opting not to add to his ECO's woes with talk of the floating dead.
"Right, got it," he turns a dial on his console, gently guiding the craft into position to jump yet again, "Micro jumps it is. Just keep your eyes open."
Professionalism is the name of the game, Ward focusing more on the immediate situation of the Raptor than the sheer enormity of nuclear annihilation.

Sebastian mananges to keep them under radar but another passing squadron of Raiders catch that minor dip in the jamming signals. Two break off and begin to head towards them, weaving into that heavy debris towards them. Those two dots break away and draw closer, swift movement in red dots on the readouts. There is a strafing flash of fire across the bow of the Raptor, lighting up Ward's front and the Raptor jolts a bit as one grazes the wing. That body is torn through by fire along with some of the debris, which is giving them additional cover at this point.

"I saw it." Sebastian says softly, perhaps reading his pilot's mind. "I think I've got a still for identification once we get back." And people laugh at his hobby of photography, and say it's useless for a ECO. "Don't even think the name of our destination." He cautions the slightly more junior officer, "We can't afford to have anyone tail us back… Frak. I think they saw us. Jump us out of here. First stop, then pause to check for a tail."

"I'm not that much fussed on identifying the dead," Ward calls back bitterly over his shoulder, "Reckon it's safe to say that if they were on or near Caprica, they're fra—"
His words are cut off by the strafing fire across the bow, cursing as the bird dips to one side when the wing is damaged. He doesn't waste any time, checking that the FTL drive is spooled up and then planting his palm squarely on the console. He doesn't waste time announcing that they are going to jump, he just does it.

The Raiders scream forward, slamming into debris occasionally in the want to get to their target. A few more shots are fired and miss, miss because Ward was quick in his use of the FTL. The Raptor blinks out of existence and a Raider tumbles forward, caught by a larger piece of debris and explodes, drawing the attention of others. Micro-jumps were a good idea.

<FS3> Sebastian rolls ECM: Good Success.

"Scanning for any sign of a tracker." Sebastian was caught unaware by the Jump, but is quick to recover; He's not one of those that gets FTL sickness, thank the Gods. In fact, he finds it quite relaxing, really. Like a warm bath in massive electromagnetic energy. His eyes scan his station. "We're clear, Dropout. Damn good flying, man." Only now does the relief and emotion enter the ECO, and his hands begin to tremble. "Gods. Get us home. Take it slow."

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