driftfleet | it's gonna rain - and it never ends

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it's gonna rain - and it never ends

[ It's midday, or close enough to it that the sun is blazing red hot above the planet. Everything seems ordinary - for disturbing, red-tinted values of ordinary, anyway. But the normalcy doesn't last for long.

Without warning, an explosive sound shocks through the jungle. It doesn't come from any one central point, but rather several points, scattered throughout, strategically placed to the advantage of someone. And from those massive shocks rises a wave of missiles - large, fast, and apparently, freely flying. They're guided, and they've locked onto their target: any foreign ship that is currently within Lato'li's atmosphere.

There's no way to mistake it. They're headed right for the Fleet.

The first wave feels a bit sporadic - timings might be off, but the missiles are still deadly, and if they hit, they hit hard. Shields might withstand this wave, but ships without shields will take direct hits. The ability to stay airborn is very, very quickly lost.

The second wave is much more precise, expertly timed and executed by whomever is firing from below. Even smaller shuttles get caught in the crosshairs, and those ships that lasted through the first volley will take a few more shots. If shields saved you before, they will fail here, giving out under the strain.

And the third wave comes, a little bit longer after, to finish the job. There are more of them, and they are far more advanced - they make the previous two volleys look like warning shots. This time, it's all missiles launched, all targets acquired.

Seven Fleet ships - and many, many shuttles - fall out of the sky, headed straight for the surface at alarming speed. Only four ships manage to escape the assault and exit the planet's atmosphere, retreating to orbit as fast as possible. Those lucky enough to have been in orbit can only watch as all of this happens.

But the missiles aren't the only thing up their sleeve. Just when the dust settles, while the network is surely lighting up with activity, attempts to contact one another and check on the status of fellow ships and crew, A loud, quick, terrible screeching noise shocks the network. It drowns out all communications on any connected devices - ship or personal. Ships in orbit will see all on-board systems flicker, then fizzle out, all non-emergency systems have gone completely down.

And with that.. there's silence. Perhaps too much silence. No matter what you do, no matter which buttons you press, which channels you try, there is no connection. Those who have dropped to the surface are entirely radio silent, and those in orbit have been reduced to the barest of abilities and life-support, with the bare minimum of contact.

So... What can you do now? ]

(( ooc: Feel free to use this post as a mingle for all your crashy or missile-dodgy needs!

• The following ships have been shot down: Bishop, Bloodsport, Blue Fish, Goldstone, Heron, Tourist, Twin Roses.
• The following ships are now in orbit: Blameless, Caprine, First Breath, Huntress, Iskaulit, Red Fish, Starstruck, Vanquish, Wonderduck

Good luck, Dear Fleet...~ ♪ ))

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[Oh, great, twelve seconds--

That's just enough time for Sam to brace for impact, get half of Nami's name out, and fly forward to smack his head against some breaking piece of the control panel the moment the shuttle hits the ground. Suffice to say, he's slumped unconscious with a gash in his hairline as the ship slides haphazardly, pieces sheering off and the smell of electrical fire filling the air around them. This thing is totally fucked; hopefully they aren't, too, huh? He's too unconscious to worry about it, at the moment.]

[For her part, Nami fights uselessly for a handful more seconds and then gives a shriek, hangs flung up to protect her face instinctively. But hey, don't worry! They'll technically hit trees before they hit the ground, which isn't gonna stop Sam braining himself on the control panel, sadly, but it will at least slow them enough that the shuttle doesn't hit at full speed and turn them both into paste.

The shuttle finally comes to a sudden stop as it rams its nose between two of the larger trees, sparks and metal tears and all, and the whole framework tries halfheartedly to flip before thudding back to earth and finally going quiet, bar the sound of sparks and an electrical break somewhere. Nami's conscious until that final impact. The sudden flare of agony as metal buckles on her side of the shuttle and slams inward? Not so great. That'll do it. TIME OUT, I GUESS.]

[Sam takes a decent amount of time to wake back up, but it's with complete and utter confusion that he does it; you know, when you crash into a planet and slowly rouse from unconsciousness, it's hard to remember why you're even there? So he looks around groggily until everything snaps back into place and he jumps in his seat. It leaves him nauseous and regretful, but there's more important things to tend to.]

Nami -- hey, Nami!

[He's gonna just bark it, because it's kind of important to make sure she's not deathly injured. Cool? He reaches over and grips her shoulder carefully, blinking hard as some blood from his hairline drips into his eye. He smells electrical wiring; he needs to get them out of here.]

[Nami didn't hit her head, and thank god for small favours-- one of her arms is a little sliced up, but nothing too serious, just a victim of being her point of impact with a broken control panel instead of her face. She comes awake in a matter of seconds when Sam barks at her, hauling up from the mire of dizzy red pain, because her arm got off light compared to...

...oh. Shit. Her fingers splay on the panel, white and braced as Sam grips her shoulder, and she opens her eyes to stare blankly at the cracked glass ahead of them. Trees. Okay. That's... some impact. They're not flying this back out, that's for sure. But that's not really their top priority right now.]

Think I'm stuck. [There's some godawful pressure on her leg and she's pretty sure it isn't in one piece, but if it hurts that's probably good, right...? And as she says it, she feels around blindly with her hand because if she moves the seat back she'll probably get unstuck, and right now she's not really thinking beyond that. Electrical fuel and wires and possible related danger don't really cross a pirate's mind.

Well, that's not all she's thinking of.]

Okay?

[It's a concerned question, promise. Just kind of short.]

Yeah, yeah, I'm fine.

[He says it just to get it out of the way, bless. He instead untangles himself, ignoring any of the dull throbs in his muscle -- they'll be bruised to all hell later, huh? But more importantly, he stops her from unsticking herself, hand over hers to give her pause.]

One sec, one sec, don't move it yet; let me check you first.

You feel all your limbs? Any numbness? Pain or weird feeling in your back?

[He smears a sleeve against his head injury, so it won't impede his sight anymore. Doesn't seem to be anything stabbing her, no sign of internal bleeding that he can see -- how long had they been out? Shit.]

[No stabbing, though she's a whiter shade of pale, which surprise. They both are, probably. The problem won't become obvious until he notes the damage further down; that the broken and buckled and spark-spitting control panel is only part of more widescale impact damage, and the left front framework has buckled inward, heavily impacting the lower section of the pilot's seat. Her right leg's free, though there's a jagged cut just above her inner right ankle where sharp metal has torn across. Her left is... kind of wedged. At best.]

...um. Good. [She's a little slow. But her head's getting clearer. So give her another minute and she'll probably start freaking a little, but until then--]

No. I mean-- yes. Everything's still-- no numbness, my back's fine. I'm just stuck--

[She blinks rapidly, glancing up with suspicion at Sam's bleeding head, but he seems pretty with it, so worry later, maybe. And then glances down, and her breath picks up a little. He said not to move it yet, and she won't, but she'll scrabble at her own belt, getting herself untangled.]

Hey hey hey, slow down, I've got you. [He moves to help her, though his balance slips and he sways to the right before he catches himself on the side of the console.] Shit, sorry -- I think I rang my bell pretty good. Let me --

[He moves again, more stable as he helps her get the belt off. Once he's sure she's not going to die or get into worse trouble when the seat's moved, he gives her a nod.]

Easy does it -- slow, okay? Your leg might hurt like a bitch when you go back.

[Because it doesn't look good for said leg, not with it pressed so roughly in like that. It's not in mortal danger, but he's seen enough breaks in his life, okay? Best case scenario, blood rushes and it hurts from all the cut off bloodflow. Worst case, it's definitely broken.

But hey, maybe they're lucky. Right?]

[Yeah that dizziness is not reassuring but she doesn't comment because for once Nami's just gonna assess priorities and decide that maybe yelling about concussions isn't the greatest when her leg might be fucked. She pats briefly at her hip to make sure that the climatact is still there and hasn't fallen in the crash-- holster's still fine-- and then braces her hands back against the control panel again, sucking in a breath.]

Okay. It already hurts. [Better than the alternative.

But she's familiar with broken bones, oh yes-- so when they move the chair back between them, the sudden loose freedom to her leg draws a small, cut off shriek as something moves when it's not supposed to, and yes, okay, just maybe metal slamming into bone at that particular angle wasn't that great for it, and--

--they're stuck out here with a broken leg and a concussion, wonderful, but just let her ride out a few seconds of agony first before she tries to work out what step two should be.]

You got this, you're good.

[He was gonna say, it'll feel peachy compared to the pain after the pressure's removed. But. You know. After she shriek he figures she already has that idea cemented in. He keeps a hand on her shoulder and mutters his comforts as she fights to rein in that agony, patient for a short moment -- but not too long a moment, either. He'll do her the favor of figuring out the next step.]

It's not safe in here; we need to get out in case this thing goes up or something. If we need something, I can come get it after we make sure this thing is stable. Can you hold onto me as a crutch for now?

[Once he gets his head cleared up, he'll be more confident to carry her.

Right now, he's having a hard time, what with seeing double.]

Goes up...?

[It's a small and confused question, as this is a genuinely confusing concept she doesn't want to think about right now, rocking through the pain to some acceptable level of functionality. She glances up after another second, eyes squinting in confusion as if to say that can happen? but when she thinks for a second about that horrible smell in the air and the spark and stutter of destroyed wiring-- yeah. Okay.

She has a clear head, more or less, and she latches a hand in his shirt to help haul herself up, breathing hard and trying to ignore her leg and kind of failing but whatever. But handhold achieved. And--]

First aid kit. [His choice whether to get the kit now or later, but that's vital. It's in the compartment above their heads, which is at least relatively unscathed in all this. And her backpack is in reach-- she snags it deftly, shucking the strap over one shoulder before going back to clinging to Sam with both arms.] Okay.

[She ran through a city with a hole through her foot once, this should be a cinch. Maybe. Please don't fall over, Sam.]

[He doesn't pay the first aid kit any attention just yet, because he is putting her safety first, to be honest; it's better to get her out, come back more capable of leaping out if shit goes aflame, and risking just himself at this point. She's already broken a leg; he figures he can deal with the retrieval bits.]

I'll come back for it. Let's get you out first.

[Once he gets her to the door, he has to finally lift her up, bridal style, to get her through the door. His vision is still spinning a little, but he can at least stand more firmly and not stagger like a drunkard.]

Gonna step off a high step; hold your breath, it's gonna jostle you a little.

[But it's better than leaping down on your own legs, huh?]

[No arguments there. She wonders woozily whether there's anything else they should get (her backpack has kitchen leftovers which is the closest thing they have to rations, don't have blankets tucked away in the shuttle anywhere-- probably not anything else, but she keeps thinking there's something she's missing). Sucks in a sharp breath through clenched teeth as Sam sweeps her up and then does as she's told, bracing for a secondhand impact.

(Why were they shot down? Christ--)

Her grip on his arm is probably gonna get crushing when he jumps, and that is truly a pathetic pained sound she makes on impact. But she'll deal.]

Y'okay...?

[Sudden movement isn't great for the concussed.]

Me? I'm always aces.

[It's said with some strain, but he smiles at her before carefully lowering her a safe distance away from the crash site; it's definitely smoking on the outside and doesn't look too great, but it's not the first time he's rushed into something that's potentially on fire. He puts a hand on Nami's shoulder and gives a careful squeeze.]

Be right back; don't need to tell you to stay put, huh?

[He's going to go back for the first aid, don't mind him.

They gotta set that leg and give proper pain meds. Or, uh. As good of pain meds as they can, to make a better trip.]

[Yeah from out here, she's all shades of nervousness as she looks at the shuttle and sees the damage from the outside.]

Staying put. Are you sure you should go back...?

[Seriously she'll make do with a tree branch and a torn up shirt if she has to. Please don't go back in that thing and explode.]

Edited 2017-11-15 10:03 (UTC)

[He wags a hand, looking back with that usual Winchester Look -- you know, the one of someone ready to leap into something potentially dangerous. Because what's the worst that can happen? He grins back at her and moves still.]

Hey, if I come flying out smoldering, you can use your rainstick on me.

[MORBID JOKES, YET ANOTHER WINCHESTER STAPLE.

But he's disappearing into the side of the shuttle before she can even potentially complain.]

Sam, that is--

[--oh, he's already gone. WELL IT WON'T STOP HER from raising her voice to finish what she had to say--]

--not funny!

[She may regret that in a minute or two. I mean, not that the crash wasn't plenty loud enough as it was. For now, though, she's just gonna watch the opening into the shuttle and try not to stress too much.]

[It's a little funny.

It's a few minutes before Sam pops back out again, but lucky her, he does! No dying today; he's done enough of that in general, he figures. He's a bit graceless in how he climbs back out and jumps back down to the ground, and his knees nearly buckle at the wave of nausea that hits his rattled brain--

But he's here, and he holds up the hefty first aid kit in victory.]

Good thing we keep this thing overfilled, huh?

Paranoia is a virtue.

[But pay no mind to how she sags in relief at his reappearance. She'll blame it on her leg, which is admittedly kind of agonizing right now, enough she'll eye off the kit with almost as much relief. Thank god.]

Get over here and let's fix ourselves up.

[...as much as we can, anyway. Ugh.]

I'm there, I'm there.

[He's half-there, but he'll get all-the-way-there when he can sit down and make sure he doesn't pass out from a head injury. Cool? Cool. He plops down beside her, wiping bloody bangs behind his ear.]

Leg first?

Leg first. [Agreement. Less selfishness than common sense-- she's gonna be able to help out a whole lot more if she's not dealing with grinding pieces of bone at the slightest movement. A splint certainly won't solve the problem but everything will feel more sturdy. She can work with that.

She delves into the first aid kit when he opens it, though, looking for antiseptic. He'll have to deal with her leg, but she can follow up in a moment with some treatment for that, y'know, open wound you've got in your forehead there.

Sam is the more paranoid and perceptive person here, concussion or not, so. How's your hearing for some distant, careful movement in the trees?]

[He is maybe hearing something. Maybe. But he doesn't want to freak her out just yet until he knows that's not his concussion talking; it's with that in mind he listens more intently, moving to collect the splint materials from the kit before he turns (totally not off-kilter) and inspects her leg. He glances up at her, quirking his eyebrow at that painful looking antiseptic doom and gloom.]

For me? Oh, you shouldn't have.

[... Listening still. Carefully listening. Shh. We're okay. Everything's a-okay.]

[She makes a face at his response. On a better day she'd probably be able to pick up on the tells that go with such cautious listening, but today she's just in pain and it sucks.]

Oh, shut up.

[She's gonna keep stockpiling what she needs, wincing as her leg settles into a steady throb of pain.

There is definitely someone on the approach, though. A few someones, maybe.]

[... Dammit, there are a few someones, huh.

He looks a bit more serious when he looks back to her — after casting a concerned eye toward the forested area around them. His head throbs painfully, but he has a little clarity to their not-so-great situation. He's started trying to hurry along with treating her leg, but it's kind of a Problem here.]

... I think we're not going to be alone for long.

[She blinks at him for a moment, dares to look hopeful-- only his body language is all wrong, and common sense tells her already that whoever's coming here aren't likely to be rescuers. Not in any way they'd appreciate.

They got shot down. Stands to reason, doesn't it...? If they're wrong, that'll be a pleasant surprise. Problem is, neither of them are really in any state to fight. Her fingers close around the climatact, white-knuckled.]

Huddle up.

[Huddling up, he can do. Yeah, he's good to huddle.

But he also keeps focus on her leg, making sure everything's in order to get the fuck out of here. Even if he has to piggyback, that's something he can definitely do. With or without a mild concussion, anyway.]

How good are you on zapping any guests?

it's gonna rain - and it never ends

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