Tavo's part of the abortive Cylon uprising on Scorpia.
Location: Tomson Proving Grounds, Vansa Province, Scorpia
Related Scenes: None
Scene Number: 587
It wasn't nearly as hot or as humid in Vansa as it was back home, or, gods forbid, Parios, but it was still enough to leave Gustavo Delgado and his squad sweating like a pig in their flak jackets, helmets, BDUs, and full kit. It was even worse for the test subjects.
Cylons didn't take well to a heat index above about 37 degrees, and it was pushing 40 today. The two Cylons on the route march through the Proving Grounds were already getting a little twitchy. Marsis, a Specialist from the Skyreach clan, walks alongside Echo, her tablet hooked up to its diagnostics port, and frowns.
"There a problem, Marsis? You know, besides the fact that these things are as reliable as Leonese toasters." Tavo's words draw a couple of chuckles from the squad, but ripping on the Leonese is easy cubits.
Marsis keeps frowning though, her pale features made harsh by the expression. "Well, Echo's efficiency is down 11 percent already, Sarge. Just from the humidity. These things were designed for all-weather, but that's all-Caprican-weather."
"About what we figured. Guess we'll still need Scorpia's sons and daughters to fill the boots on the ground." Tavo's grunt is disappointed, even disgusted.
"Yeah, and I bet Hotel's doing even worse." Marsis gestures back to the second Cylon with the squad. "I'm a little concerned about that twitch in its -- "
Almost casually, Echo reaches out and grabs Marsis's webbing, pulling the Specialist close and thrusting steel fingers through her throat. Blood spatters all over chrome, BDUs, and the skin of the nearest three squad members.
Samson stumbles backwards, dry-retching and fumbling with his slung weapon. Marsis chokes, both hands going to try in vain to staunch the blood pulsing from her throat. She falls to her knees, then down on her face.
The rest of the squad is doing... something... but Tavo can't worry about that yet. Marsis's blood stings in his left eye, blurring his vision, and what the hell is Echo doing, grabbing Marsis like that, and now going for Samson and... Tavo's right hand draws his sidearm, his body working ahead of his mind as he launches himself forward, reaching out with his left hand to grab the Cylon's arm.
Even as he gets hold, pulling back to try to spin the robot away from Samson, he realizes that he might have found someone -- or something -- at least as strong as him. He buys Samson a heartbeat, but only that, and then the Cylon's other hand comes around and clips the PFC in the temple, sending him crumpling to the ground.
There's no time to see if Samson is alive or dead, because now the Cylon is turning toward him, and Tavo starts pulling the trigger before the pistol is fully raised, bullets pinging and spanging off chrome armor at the Cylon's leg, waist, abdomen, and chest before one actually finds a weak spot. Tavo fires nine shots, the sound like thunderclaps one on top of the other at this close range. Six merely smear lead across the chrome armor, but three find purchase, and the Cylon begins to topple.
The firing is joined by higher, sharper gunshots from behind him, but Tavo doesn't hear any whips or buzzes of near-misses, and so he releases the Cylon, giving it a little shove so that it thumps down at his feet, and only then looks back to the rest of the squad.
Three of them are down, but all three are moving, and Hotel is down too, nearly chewed apart by rounds from Corporal Winston's rifle. Tavo looks the situation over, then steps forward, putting the last shot from his pistol carefully into Echo's single eye, then calling out, "Medic! Get working, Kettel. Vorro, make a report to Broadleaf Six."
Less than six seconds, and two Cylons operating below full efficiency had killed one or two of his squad and wounded another three or four. As Tavo reloads his pistol and checks on Samson, Lance Corporal Vorro calls out, "Sarge, it's not just our toasters. It's all of them. There's fighting all around the storage center at Tomson."
Tavo rounds on the wireless man, "What?"
"Yeah, they say it's under control, but there are still a couple of Cylons holding out in storage." Vorro's disbelief is clear in her voice.
Looking around the trail, then down at the wounded and dead soldiers and the trashed Cylons, Tavo comes to a decision, "Okay. Let's get our wounded mobile." He crouches down to pull off one of Marsis's dogtags, grimacing as he does, "Call for a pickup for Marsis, Echo, and Hotel. Intel will want the Cylons. The clearing two hundred meters back will be our extraction LZ. Call it in, Vorro."
As the squad grinds into motion, Tavo has a nasty thought. //Man, the Leonese and Virgons are frakked, with how many toasters they've got. There's a momentary burst of humor, and then he realizes, shit, if this is more than just a humidity screw-up, we're all frakked. And knowing my luck, it damn sure is more than humidity.//