WD: You're Buying Lunch
You're Buying Lunch
Summary: What Was I Doing On Warday: Emilia (run by Petra)
Date: 17/02/2013
Related Logs: None
Emilia 
Picon
The Colony of Picon, the morning before the Cylons ruin everyone's day…
01/05/2005

January 5th, 2005. A Saturday, and while that would normally mean weekend leave, Emilia's pulled duty in the rotation in prep for a whole 7 days of leave, and that means, yes, 5am and finding out JUST how cold the floors are at Perkinston air base in January. The good thing about weekend duty? No crowds to deal with in the head and in the hallways.

Lieutenant Damon Evans has been assigned to the raptor group for a good nine months now, and gotten just comfortable enough to let that smartass streak show from time to time, so when she actually makes it to the ready room to check in, he's already there (the ONLY one there, actually), looking over the duty roster. Glancing up, he straightens up and snaps her an unnecessary salute with just the faintest smirk, "Morning Captain. I heard we're losing you for a week after today. You sure CAG isn't going to fall apart without his favorite paper pusher around?"

Winter mornings on Picon. Gods, what a nightmare. Emilia is clinging to a cup of coffee and her face has the slightly flushed look of someone who has scrubbed it fiercely in an effort to wake up. She tends to be one of the first ones there, if not the first, so she's a bit taken aback to see Evans has beat her. Sighing, she shakes her head at him. "I think you are more worried that there won't be someone here to help you label your duty reports correctly," she counters as she moves over to study the roster herself. "Though I am sure the CAG will be weeping with joy when I do return. After a brisk cold week of ice and snow and Picons."

Evans grins and 'awws' slightly in answer, handing the clipboard over, "But your handwriting is so much nicer than mine! Looks like we're sitting alert on the pad for first shift, then alert-30 for the rest of the day." Which basically means the two will be sitting in the Raptor, ready to go for four hours before they can get out. Alert duty, always a brain bender. At least Evans isn't one of the newer ECOs and wont be asking the Captain half a million inane questions trying to impress her.

"Well, it could be worse. Not the most terrible way to finish up before leave starts. Come on, let's get suited up and ready to sit." Emilia has been in the Fleet for a long time and has now learned to appreciate quiet weekend watch shifts, even if they are before the crack of dawn on a Saturday. One last look at the roster sheet and then she's heading for the locker room and then the hanger to do the preflight checks.

He sighs dramatically and nods at her statement, "Meet you at the bus. Looks like we're 'three two one nine' today." With that said, he heads over to slip into the locker room as well and suit up.

So when she emerges, he's actuall waiting for her outside the locker room, turning to walk with her out to the hangar, "I'll make a bet with you. We get no call by the end of alert-5, and lunch is on me." One brow is lifted in curiosity as they cross the open space to the powered-down and parked Raptor, where one of the crew chiefs is just finishing the fuel and maintenance detail. the Petty Officer salutes the air crew and hands the maintenance log over to Emilia when they approach, "Morning, sirs. She's topped off and checked out. Just give her back to me in one piece so I get to keep my Sunday off, hmm?"

"Absolutely," Emilia says with a grin toward him. "Unless you already know about soem kind of incoming call and this is a sucker bet?" That's a gentle tease, however, the Captain shaking her head as she does. "The plan is for no real excitement at all," she says to the crew chief with a crooked little smile, taking the log and looking it over carefully. She's the sort to check that and then do the detailed checkover herself as well—not a slight to the crew, they learn, but as a second pair of eyes. She has to go up in it, after all. "Besides, much as I am good at paperwork, I want to be able to start my leave without having to deal with any myself."

Evans laughs at the question, "Mm, Captain, if I knew a call was coming in, would I be in a good mood? See, I wont MIND paying for lunch if we have an uneventful morning." He hops up onto the raptor's wing and starts assisting with the checklist, verifying that all of the raptor's emergency gear is where it should be, that all of the panels and physical components are in working order. The crew chief smirks and nods, "From your mouths to the Lords and Ladies' ears, sirs. Have a good shift." The fueling equipment is taken away, leaving the two to finish their checklist and power the bird up.

"Evans, you are starting to sound like an experienced pilot now," Emilia says with an outright grin, looking up briefly from her log. "You know someone has gotten experienced when all they want is something quiet and uneventful during a shift. I'll have to think of a good place to get lunch then." The exterior check complete, she heads inside, kissing the tips of her fingers and pressing them to the top of the doorframe. It is one of those quirks she picked up /somewhere/ and just does now. Everyone has them. Checks continue inside and then she announces that they are good to go and she starts the powerup procedures, strapping into her seat as she does.

Evans chuckles at the commentary, closing the hatch, "Good seal," then drops into his chair and hums to himself as he turns everything on, "Just dont tell the Major that, he might schedule me with a new pilot and expect ME to be the mature one. Can't be having drastic things like that happening, sir." There's a moment of pause before he starts rattling off systems up and running, waiting for her acknolwdgement before he keys the radio, "Perkinston Control, this is Raptor Three Two One Nine signing on for alert duty. Over." A few moments later there is acknowledgement, "Three two one nine, this is Perkinston Control. We read you, and glad to have you. Out." Which is followed a moment later with a murmur from the back seat, "And now, Raptor: The Waiting."

There's a chuckle and Emilia continues her routine, flipping through the controls in a long-established order. "You know. You actually do learn a lot from having a younger pilot looking up to you. Just think about this—you would be The Man, after all, the one with the answers." She glances at him over her shoulder and adds, "Besides, if you are admitting you have a certain amount of laziness involved, I -should- tell the Major you are ready for a JG or Rook or something." They are cleared and then….they sit. She settles in with the patience of one who knows she has leave coming in just a few hours.

He groans at that and murmurs in amusement, "You'd do it too, wouldn't you?" This gives him a little segway into a story of his first ride as a full ECO with a pilot that was just out of flight school, leading to a couple of amused 'I thought YOU were on that!' exchanges. He doesn't get very far into it before the radio crackles again, "Ah, Raptor three two one nine, this is Perkinston Control. Come in, three two one nine…" Evans freezes, and scowls, narrowing his eyes and looking at Emilia, waiting for her to answer. Its as if he's trying to WILL this to just be a test.

Listening without much comment, Emilia is mostly glancing at him over her shoulder between looks out the front of the raptor. One story about new pilots tends to be like another and she seems to have been expecting where this was going. The crackle of radio catches her by surprise and she frowns, first at Evans and then at the radio. Then she keys the mic. "Flight this is Raptor three two one nine. Go ahead, over."

The news does not make Evans happy. "Three two one nine, Perkinston. We have a medevac Raptor down outside of Penrose Harbor and it looks like you're going to be the fastest bus that can get to them. We have a Parajumper that's going to meet you there at Penrose at the landing pad, and fly out with you to the accident site. Just bring them back to Perkinston if the PJ says they'll make it. Acknowledge, Over." Penrose Harbor is about 800 miles from the air base, but Picon is not exactly a metropolitan planet, either. Evans sighs, "Well, crap. Someone got stupid, or one of these old birds finally had a swan song."

"Flight, this is three two one nine. Acknowledged and we'll get enroute to Penrose. Over." Emilia grunts and starts to power the engines for take off. "Oh damn," she says suddenly, scowling at him over shoulder. "This means I have to buy lunch, doesn't it?" That's -mostly- playful though that will delay the start of her leave on top of the potential time from this mission too.

Evans smirks wryly, "Yes, yes it does, sir. Lets just hope this isn't something so bad I lose my appetite. DRADIS is clear of traffic, Penrose Harbor is a straight shot, course 180 for about an hour. Once we get out of Perkinston air, there's no regs against booming, so…" Booming probably being the frowned upon practice of creating a sonic boom through a populated area, "Getting the downed Raptor data now. Looks like Rivers and Stephens were on it, rescuing a disabled fishing crew."

The Raptor is not exactly the newest bird in the fleet, but the engineering crew has done an outstanding job of keeping the old machine functioning and air- and space-worthy, so when Emilia eases the power in, the raptor lifts off of the pad and slides into the sky without a single hitch. From the back, Evans hums under his breath as he keeps an eye on his displays, then leans against the console, "I bet you Rivers was doing something stupid again to impress some female crew on that boat. TOLD him that shit was going to get him demoted."

"Waking up everyone with the Saturday morning hangovers?" Emilia doesn't look back at him but gosh, there's a little hint of mischief in he voice. "Gosh, surely no one in the Fleet would think about doing something like that." But she isn't in a rush beyond the basics and something about that report makes her frown. "I don't know, I thought Stephens did a pretty good job of reining him in usually. Let's hope they didn't run into anything mechanical with it." They set a good clip out toward Penrose Harbor, just under the actual booming speed—she's not cruel nor is she out to impress Evans.

Evans murmurs in more genuine agreement, "I hope not. Can I hope the PJ we get is a hottie?" His attention is mostly glued to his electronic toys, headset on and scanning through the radio bands while she takes care of the flying.

Despite the speed, it really is rather, well, dull. A more-or-less straight line for an hour and a half, is an hour and a half no matter how to shake it out, and Evans is VERY quiet now that they're actualy on mission. So it might be unexpected when about 45 minutes into it, from behind her erupts a soft, "What the /frak/?" No explanation.

"Are you basically going to try to do what you just accused Rivers of?" Emilia says in a dry voice, shaking her head as she concentrates on her flying. There is a point on any long flight when you basically start to hunt for any sort of distraction at all, especially when things are uneventful. Evans and his outburst makes her glance over her shoulder. "What? What is it?"

Evans, when she glances, is staring at his displays, not really seeing them, while his attention is focused on what he's hearing. There's a delayed reaction to her question, then he murmurs, "Captain, switch over to the Naval frequencies, the emergency band. I don't know what the frak is going on…"

When she does key over, there is a lot of static, but a male voice is speaking, "…its /gone/, repeat, Battlestar Imperial has been destroyed. To all Colonial units, we are under attack by an unknown enemy, too many contacts to…" and then static, cut off by Evans stumbling over his words, raising his voice in a close-to-panic tone, "Captain, /nuclear detonation/ 600 miles behind us. Estimated 50 megaton blast, shockwave will be here in 5 seconds! Land us anywhere, now!"

"What the frak…" And then there's a reason why Emilia has made Captain and continued on her upward climb. Her reactions are /fast/. Before he is even done with his statement, she's already aiming her Raptor down, trying to get it on the ground as quickly as she's able with the short notice. Her mind hasn't even completely consciously caught up to what is going on yet but by gods, incoming shockwave means -get out of the air-.

The fact that Picon is mostly a fishing planet means, thankfully, that there's a lot of open space on its land masses, and plenty of rocky, open space to put a bird down quickly. Its still a close shave though, with the weight of the raptor not yet settling down onto its landing gear while Evans counts down, "3…2…1…frak!" He grabs the console and tenses up as a compression wave still hard enough to rock the aircraft slams into it. The tail of the raptor is spun around, shearing metal heard as one of the wing landing gear tears off from the sudden weight that's applied to it sideways, though fortunately the two are far enough away that pressure is the only thing that reaches this far, and the raptor's radiation shielding has probably saved both of them from anything lingering.

It DOES spin the bird around enough to give both of its aircrew full view of the mushroom cloud that's begun to rise over what is most assuredly Perkinston. From behind her, Evans's voice has dropped to a whisper, "Sir. It's gone. Fleet HQ is nothing but a big ball of white noise."

Emilia's hands stay on the controls, even as she braces herself for the first hits too. Then the Raptor rips around, shuddering and shaking and shearing and as she is jerked against her harness, Emilia is grinding her teeth and trying not to yell. This isn't her first crash/impact, sadly, and she does at least know the best way to brace herself. It is when the bird is jerked around so that they face back the way they came that she lets out a quickly surpressed call. Evans's whisper confirms what her eyes are telling her and for several seconds, all she can do is stare. Then training kicks in and she clears her throat, scanning the area. "Understood. Check the DRADIS. Anything visible? Smaller crafts or…?"

Evans refocuses, messing with his toys as he clears his throat and manages, "Ah, DRADIS is rebooting, one moment." A pause, then a strangled, "Shit. Shitshitshit. Multiple contacts, blue AND red. No IFF signal, but the blue are Colonial Vipers. Unknown small craft inside atmo and heading our way." On the Naval band, another voice has resurfaced, "…to all Colonial units, Fleet HQ has been hit with a nuclear device. We have no contact with the Admiralty. Defend Picon from the invaders and regroup with your units. Unit Commanders check in on TAC5 in 60 seconds from…mark!"

As the man is speaking, two odd craft fly overhead, maybe only by 20 feet. Gunmetal grey and shaped like a bizarre flying crescent, they nimbly sail through the sky as the arc up and roll over, looking like they are turning back towards the raptor.

"All right, Evans, time to start using all that combat training we've practiced for so long." Emilia keeps herself calmat least her voicelike this is just another exercise and not a vicious attack on the Colonies. There is a brief tremor in her hands and she has to take several deep breaths but she pulls herself together. "Two unidentified ships bearing down on us, we're going up, get ready." With all the instruments registering in the green outside of the landing gear, she starts to maneuvar the raptor up, preparing to get it moving -away- from the strange ships as quickly as she's able.

Evans does not need prodding - she says get ready and his fingers are dancing over the controls, "ECM on and painting, working on it! Flares online if they loose a missle." To the raptor's credit, it lifts back into the air without protest and rolls over to take off away from the craft, "Who the frak ARE these guys!? Jamming target lock! Captain, he's going…" Somewhere in the noise, Evans said the word 'guns', but it's not really necessary as the bright bolts of KEW fire cut the air directly over the raptor, where the two would have been if Emilia had climbed faster than she did.

"Those are the guys trying to kill us right this second. Let's concentrate on that. Get those flares ready." Endless drilling and practice and studying and simulation has paid off as she twists the craft into a more evasive flight pattern. Emilia lets Evans concentrate on his job and she concentrates on hers though she does remember enough to say: "We are coming up on sixty seconds, get ready to call in on TAC5." Meanwhile, she'll do what she can to get rid of these things. If not that? Well, she'll deal with that when it comes to it.

One of the craft blows past the raptor, banking and heading off to the left, while another burst of fire rakes across the raptor's flight path, a shot smacking into the wing and rocking the ship. A few red lights pop up on Emilia's display: hull integrity breached, flight control surfaces damaged. The craft still seems to respond fine to the stick, however, so it must not be much. Evans is at least, already on it, "Rerouting hydraulics. Ready with the rad.." he stops mid sentence when the second raider passes them, gets about a hundred feet in front of them…and explodes in a hail of parts that bounce off of the raptor's canopy. Over the radio, a chirpy female voice cuts in, "Unknown Raptor, this is Viper 232 and 234 of Aces Wild, but you can call us Bitch and Goggles. Why don't you dive and hang left while we take care of this other asshole for you?"

"Aces Wild squadron this is Raptor three two one nine from the Fleet Com…." Emilia's voice trails off for a moment and she takes a moment to regroup, even as she is already directing her craft over toward her left in as quick a banking turn as the damaged vehicle can manage. "We were on our way to a rescue but funny how things work out. Feel free to take out the bastard that shot up my bird. This is Teach and Chatterbox on our end, over."

The voice on the other end of the radio is casual almost to the point of a drawl, "Teach, Bitch, we gotcha. C'mon Goggles, don't be a lazy ass. Punch that frakker." The raider has rolled over and is angling for the fleeing raptor despite the vipers bracketing it. Firing at practically the same time, the raider explodes in a satisfying fireball right as its own shots hit the raptor's side and tear through the cabin. Klaxon warnings go off immediately for the hull breach, and DRADIS crashes and goes dark while Evans growls from behind her, "FRAK!" The ship, however, still seems to be flightworthy…there's just no chance of leaving the atmosphere in this state with them not being in full pressure suits.

Over the radio, the female comes on again, "3219, looks like he got you a good one as a final 'frak you'. There's an aircraft graveyard a couple clicks to the east, we're directing folks that have no weapons systems to. Park yerself there if you can make it. Should be two other raptors and one of our damaged vipers there. They can fill you in on the world of shit that just landed. Over."

Swearing under her breath, Emilia is displeased that she didn't manage to evade the last hit from that raider. Checking her instruments, she lets out a louder "FRAK" when the inability to head to space registers. It is the one slip she's really allowed since this whole mess had started. When she speaks again, her voice is as calm and relaxed as the Viper pilots. "Copy 232, 234. Thanks for the assist and we'll head toward the meeting point. Gods watch over you both. 3219 over and out."

Aiming her craft in the indicated direction, Emilia spends a few minutes asking Evans to assess all the different systems of their ship, getting him thinking in a more businesslike manner. "…and keep a close eye on the DRADIS. I suspect we're going to be seeing more of those bastards." There's a moment of hestitation then: "I think they may be Cylons, kid. I don't know yet but…." But she's just old enough to have a different set of memories than he does.

A last sign off from the radio, "Lords and Ladies watch over you both. Lets go, Goggles. Gonna be busier than a one legged man in an ass-kicking contest. Bitch and Goggles out."

Evans is swearing under his breath, "DRADIS isn't coming back up. One of the panels is ruptured. I think they hit the computer." The nav system still seems to be up on Emilia's display at least, though the DRADIS display remains alarmingly black. "Captain, we're pretty messed up. I'd say you have thirty minutes of flight time before we're going to be on the ground one way or another. And CYLONS? You're shitting me, right? Its been four frakking decades!" THe graveyward is, perhaps thankfully, already within sight. Dead hulks of ancient aircraft, some Vipers from the Cylon War, a few civilian liners that have been mostly gutted and left to rust, and then scattered closer to the center, indeed, two raptors and one viper that seems to be missing most of its left wingstub.

"Yeah, well. I don't think Leonis nuked Fleet Command, do you?" There's an edge to Emilia's voice, only exacerbated by the dead DRADIS display on her dash. "And I've never seen ships like that. I don't know. Let's see what the others saw and see what we can conclude." She looks at their instruments, looks at the graveyard and takes a deep breath. "We're down a landing gear, our computer is hit, and probably other things as well. Brace yourself—this is going to be a seriously bumpy landing."

Suddenly her copilot's seat is full of ECO as Evans drops into it and buckles himself in. His flightsuit's shoulder is covered in blood from where he seems to have been wounded, "Harness broken, might as well sit up here with you. And you crash us, you just remember I always loved you best, Teach." There's a wry, pained smile that touches his face as he reaches up to hang on to the airframe and brace for something ugly.

There are wide open spaces between the larger aircraft, along with a road that was obviously meant for maintenance vehicles to use, that works as a suitable landing space. At the last possible second, the starboard engine sputters and dies, lurching the raptor and causing it to drop the last 1-2 feet hard with a metallic crunch. Evans winces and hisses, "Hell, Teach," then a few moments later, "…are we dead yet?"

"Yeah, I'll remember that." Emilia has to stay calm and collected despite the fact that she has a wounded ECO, a wounded bird, and a brewing war with nukes all rattling around in her head. She is feeling good until that engine dies and then there's a tightening of her lips and a sudden racing of her heart and the rush of adrenaline that makes all of this exiting and somewhat worthwhile. When the raptor finally skids to a halt, she looks over at him and grins. "Chatterbox, you're in my hands. No death, no dying." But she's not waiting, already getting out of her harness and going to check where he's bleeding. "Think you can make it to the grouping over there? And we need to take what we can from in here ASAP. If I were them, I'd be scouting out where we could be hiding birds right now."

Evans waves her off when she starts to check on him, "Think I caught a chunk of exploding panel in my shoulder. Lets get out of the bird then I'll let you tear my flightsuit off and look for parts I shouldn't have in me." He manages a smile, but now that she can see his face, he's clearly in pain. Unbuckling his harness, he climbs out and grabs the two emergency survival packs, throwing one at her chest. Stepping back into the cabin, he grabs and yanks hard on part of the console, yanking the system's hard drive, "Alright, lets get the frak out of here."

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License