The recon team runs into trouble scouting out the factory in Arborfield.
Location: Arborfield, Picon
Related Scenes: None
Plot: Operation: Cat and Mouse
Scene Number: 799
The group has been on the move since that first rainy night in the cabin, moving south towards the city. Avoiding increasingly-frequent enemy patrols as they crossed from forest to suburbia. There's activity in the air too, and more than a few times they've had to seek cover from Cylon flyovers. At the moment, the evening sky is overcast and they're making their way through an eerily-deserted neighborhood, moving cautiously closer toward the city center and their objective. They've paused for a quick bio/snack break in one of the abandoned houses, waiting for night to fall so they can make their final advance. Mercer is taking advantage of the lull to catch a quick catnap.
Being out of the rain to sleep was rather a luxury, and Lyn slept in clean underthings and dry socks while the rest of her gear got to dry out a little hanging on the line she'd strung across the one room cabin. So now she's in only slightly damp clothes, and that makes all the difference. She peers out through one of the windows of the house, keeping an eye on the land and the skies. The closer they get, the hotter the zone becomes. She's hard focused, her lips pressed tightly together.
Once in a safe place, Erin opens up her final goodie: a small packet of oatcakes. To be frank, oatcakes taste rather awful, but they are rich and a little sweet, perfect when you're low on food and you don't want to eat another frakkin' MRE. Enough for the squad -- even Mercer -- Erin delivers as only a good trash panda can. And then, in the abandoned house, she goes about her business quietly: scrounging around for stuff that she can later use, sell, or otherwise trade in for favors aboard the Vanguard.
A break is a good thing. Even those used to the long haul need a rest every now and again. Charlie has returned from her own 'bio' part of the break and set up by a window on another wall to keep watch. Shoulder to the wall with a good angle, helmet on her knee, she observes. Her pack is on the floor nearby, rifle against her hip in easy reach. "Thanks," she murmurs after Erin for the oatcake. A piece is broken off to nibble at. She reaches down into her fatigues and digs around in her sports bra... It may seem to adjust, but after a few seconds, she surfaces with a photo and occasionally casts her eyes down from the landscape to look at it.
What gives, Picon? Rain followed with more rainclouds? Kyle's already changed her socks once and tried to dry the others, and after a night of sleeping in the corner of a musty cabin lined with the 'mew mew mew' of a cardboard box of kittens, the Caprican scout is starting to feel the ache of multiple ops per week. She sleeps restlessly, rolling over and over and over again, stirring, until she managed four hours in the cabin. Which is why, now, with her shemagh pulled up over her face, she's left her kit straps-up against the wall and is coming out of the edge of sleep, blearily watching the others with blurry, hazel eyes, waking from another three hours rest.
Lyn gives Kyle a good morning grunt, as she wakes. And she shifts past Charlie to go take care of her own bio needs. She's been on so may long range inserts over her career, this one is almost cushy, what with roofs to be under and Erin's magical bag of stuff to supplement the rations.
Seriously, don't mind Erin. Until the order is made to move out, she searches the house for anything that can be scrounged. Quietly, of course -- she's not entirely stupid. But a place like this probably has a garage to loot or a kitchen to plunder. Every place does. Unless survival-type RPG vid-games have been misleading.
There's a nod for Lyn as she passes and Charlie bites off another piece of oatcake, attention still torn between the outside landscape and the photo. She does spot Kyle's waking out of the corner of her eye and tilts her head, marginally, in that direction. "Mornin' sunshine."
"MrrrngLynSpcks." Kyle rasps under her breath. She drags the edge of her index finger across the corner of her mouth, wiping away some saliva while making a face not too different from the face of the person who's had a cat shit in their mouth. Bleergh. She pushes up from the floor in a crawl, ratty, brown hair hanging over one shoulder. "...frak, I feel like a train hobo." Kyle looks from Lyn to Charlie, then tugs a small bottle of mouthwash from her kit. In it goes, Kyle swishes, then spits it against the wall. "Hayes off stealin' all my stuff?"
Lyn catches up to Erin after her break, with a toothbrush still in her mouth and canteen in hand. She arches a brow at the trash panda rummaging around and plucks the toothbrush out of her maw. "Don't the Picons shoot looters on sight?" she asks. She may be making that up.
Erin blinks at Lyn, and looks over her shoulder at her. "It's amazing how much I just don't care." She grins toothily. "They are more than welcome to come by and protect their frakkin' stuff if they want. But, looks like they aren't here, so -- " Shrug. " -- nuts to them." She quietly opens up a drawer, takes a moment to carefully rifle through it, and then puts it back.
"We're in a war. Toasters don't care about these things, but we do. You know how happy that bourbon made everyone?" Beat. "Real happy. And with the stuff we lifted from the cabin, well -- " She chuckles. " -- oh, there'll be some inventive noisemaking in the berthings. Oh, ho. And me with my recording devices."
"Hope not. 'Cause Ghost is right, we damn well do." Charlie finally reaches to tuck that photo back away within her fatigues, casting a smirk towards the returning Arda. "Right between the eyes and all." She finishes off the oatcake and goes back to peering out the window. "Starting to feel nervous about the lack of activity out this way." She does look back towards Erin, eyes narrowing a bit in suspicion. "You don't record me and Calhoun, do you?"
"You're not Piconese anymore, Specks. Not since we got thrown in the jarhead mixing bowl." Kyle drags out her own toothbrush from her pack and sits against the wall, one knee bent, then scrubs at her teeth, watching Erin rifle through doors with mild amusement. Lip curling at the edge of her toothbrush, the Caprican finally plucks it free from her teeth and points it towards Lyn and Erin. "I've slept all of two nights in the berthings. Is that seriously a thing? Just close the curtains, lie back, close your eyes, listen to the creatures of the night bumping uglies and the neighbor's new boyfriend do the whole 'this has never happened before, I swear' routine?"
Lyn chuckles quietly. "You do your thing, Hayes. But if you get caught and chewed out, I had nothing to do with it," except eating that tin of cookies. She snorts at Charlie, "Well she sure isn't recording me, since there's nothing to blackmail me with, unless she thinks I don't know I snore."
A quiet buzz wakes Mercer from his snooze. He taps his watch to silence the vibration then rubs his face. He's the sort that seems to go from zero to wide-awake in a hearbeat, so he's already moving to get up and taking stock of the situation in their commandeered house.
"Please, Chuck. Why I would record you and Calhoun? Sounds like a boring time over there, mostly." Erin snickers, and then checks under the sink to see what the owners may have stashed under there. "Hmm. Cleaning supplies. Could be useful to wash off some of Chuck's gear." Snort.
If her ears could turn about, they would. The damned thief lifts her head up, and shuts the cabinet doors quickly and quietly. "Gunny." And then, she wanders back over to where Mercer is.
By the by, now that they are out of the woods, Erin's stashed her ghillie suit into her pack. Which is why she carried light to begin with. That, and, well -- more space, more stuff to loot.
"Piconese 'til Picon no longer exists. I'm just on loan." Charlie's fairly firm on this point. She looks over as Mercer gets to his feet and sits a bit more upright herself. "Surrounding area's still clear, far as I can tell, sir." For Erin, there's a snort as Wagner pushes upright and starts hauling her pack onto her shoulders. "We save the loud stuff for leave." Once her pack is on her shoulders, she picks up her rifle, checks the slide, and gets it slung on.
The sound of bristles over teeth dies and Kyle lowers to a crouch, spitting what's left over into the corner. She cleans the bristles of her toothbrush, wipes her mouth clean, and now that Mercer's gone and women up, it's time to pack it all away. "Burn." Kyle muses, clipping her pack closed. Assuming the time to roll out is nearing, she crawls into her kit, slips it over each shoulder, and then leans forward to collect her rifle from its propped up position. "Hey, Gunny, you save the loud stuff for leave, too? Colonial foots the bill for hotel rooms on leave right? Gonna have to find me a date." Click. Kyle nestles her chin into her shemagh and does a quick rifle-check.
"Gunny," Lyn greets, as she rinses off her toothbrush with water from her canteen and packs both away again. If Mercer is up, it's time to move. She gathers her things and checks all her gear.
Mercer nods to Charlie, then gives Erin a dubious look. "You planning on taking everything that's not nailed down, Hayes?" he asks dryly. "That there is classified information, Costello," he deadpans back to Kyle's question. After getting his minimal kit together, he announces, "Time to head out."
They've reviewed the plan before. Two teams of two will head to different vantage points of the suspected factory location from different routes. Mercer will be a third 'team' providing overwatch and covering their retreat if needed. They'll spend a few hours watching and then pull back to pre-defined rendezvous points.
Erin is split off with Kyle, and the two start towards their objective: one of the two places from which they are to view the suspected factory location. Being the "senior" member of the squad, the trash panda takes point, moving low but quickly through the abandoned town, eyes open and head up.
"D'awww, Gubby dodging the gossip network." Kyle quips after Mercer as she pairs off with her Battle-Buddy, Erin, and ducks out of the house. Helmet strapped back on, Kyle wipes her filthy two-day showerless neck down with her shemagh and treks out, covering Erin from point to point, heading out after her lead in a game of follow the leader with the end-goal in mind: Observation Point.
Lyn pairs up with Charlie and she moves swiftly and silently ahead of Wagner, knowing the other woman has the longer range weapon and scope. She moves with all due caution from building to building, pausing behind cover each time to listen first, then look for any movement, before she moves on.
Shuffling backwards isn't always easy, but you learn. Charlie lets Lyn go ahead, covers the Aquarian, then moves on ahead to met up with her. From point to point, heading to their pre-determined vantage. They stay comms silent; trusting in their partners on the opposite side of the 'field' as it were. With her own mate, she just operates with hand signals.
The former Embra Aerospace plant in Arborfield is located in one of the northern suburbs. The sun is just starting to go down, so there's still light to see by when they reach the area. The vast campus isn't much to look at from the outside. As the two teams move into position, they can see that it's suffered some damage in the war. Several outbuildings have been leveled, and a few others show signs of fire or bomb damage. In spite of that, there are still obvious signs of Cylon activity. Trucks, shuttles heading in and out, Centurions and worker models moving around like busy little metal bees going in and out of buildings. The teams settle in to wait and watch, as recon people do. After an hour or so, they hit paydirt: From one of the large factories, both teams can see a giant set of double doors open, and a big-ass truck with three suspiciously raider-shaped tarps on the back drive out.
Oh, good. The rumors were correct. Erin doesn't seem too surprised; instead, she keeps her eyes on the troop movements. From her vantage point, she tries to determine where the patrols are switching and being serviced. In other words: trying to figure out what buildings are priority targets for a bombing run.
Once a building is determined, Erin makes a shrugging move, and then gestures for Kyle to follow her as she re-positions. Time for secondary objectives to be fulfilled!
The bush. The bush sees all. Kyle becomes one with the foliage, adding to the foliage a silent-running camera, a notebook, and a map. Taking snapshots and making notes on movements, the little, black pen scribbles on the prepared map, taking notes of terrain, ranges, space between patrols; as much as she can think might be of importance, up to and including the three baby birds on the truck. Paydirt. She looks over to Erin and grins her way, mouthing 'Booyah' to her before gathering her things and crawling after the woman, seeking new angles and more intel for the 'Green Slime' to research.
"Frak," Lyn whispers under her breath, from her perch on the roof of one of the fire damaged buildings. She watches through her binoculars, huddled under her poncho, and murmurs to Charlie, "You seeing what I'm seeing?" She grimaces at the sight of the truck and those raider shaped tarps on it. "They're definitely manufacturing ships down there."
With her monocular -- complete with range finder -- out, Charlie settles alongside Lyn and starts passing along notes, pulling out a camera once she's found a good vantage point to get imagery and video from their position. She grunts in affirmation. "Yeh. Not surprising, really. They've held ground on Picon since the very start... On Canceron, they had Centurion factories." She shifts, sighting the trucks, trying to gauge dimensions. Making estimates on the waterproof paper. "Question is if its the usual Raiders or something new." After they've collected what they can, a tilt of her head to Lyn. "C'mon, let's see if we can mark some of these locations for later raids."
They watch for half the night. One thing about Cylons - they aren't really slowed down by a need for sleep so nighttime is just as active as daytime for them. Even if some of the images they take have to be on night vision mode. It's still intel. Eventually the time comes for them to move on. Their way out of the city will take them past the starport. It's pretty easy to deduce from their observations that that's the same direction the trucks laden with fresh ships were headed.
A few miles later, they're coming into view of the starport. Once again the teams move into their positions to take up watch. And sure enough - there's another hub of activity here. They even can see one of the trucks laden with fresh ships, a crane off-loading what appear to be regular old raptors.
Great. A starport. Without the light, surveillance is a little more difficult for Erin. That, or she's distracted by the potential for looting if, you know, she were given the chance to. Sigh. Oh well. Maybe another time.
Locating the starport is, of course, the other main objective. Which means that the time to depart is soon. Erin deviates from the 'port towards the rendezvous point with Mercer, leading her team back to the Gunnery Sergeant to arrive around the appointed time.
Notably, Erin really doesn't say anything. No repartee. Because hers is lengthy, highly inappropriate, and likely to draw attention.
Notes. Pictures. Sketches. Kyle chews at her lip while she works in silence, taking her time after she's gone from laying on her belly over the factory, to laying on her belly overlooking the starport. She makes note of the Raptors in use, and once her intel is taken, she collects it in her waterproofed book and stows it, securely, in her pack. When Erin leads her out, she follows, crawling after the woman until the time comes to rendez-vous with the Gunny, whose private life is likely just as confidential as the intel she's just collected.
At the starport, Lyn watches the activity with a sharp frown. "Those are Raptors down there," she notes to Charlie, because Sergeant Obvious is obvious. "Who did they take them off of?" she asks quietly. Picon Forces? Colonial Forces? Did they just roll them off the factory assembly line? When they have the data they need, she heads back towards the rendezvous.
"They look old. Might be from the spaceport itself." The Raptors seem to draw most of Charlie's attention at the new location. She's scowling, taking most of the shots of them. NVG-laden imagery as they are. "Why do you think they want them? I don't recall any air wing reports of those encountered in combat. Cypers, sure, but... Cylons using Raptors? That's new." Her voice is low as she takes more notes; numbers, locations, theories. Even so, she's hung up a bit on that particular tidbit. "If we can get any of their tail numbers... Might be good to make sure they're struck from records." Though under the cover of night, that is going to be difficult. She pushes away finally, covering her and Lyn's exit back to the meetup with Gunny.
Interestingly, there are no tail numbers or other markings. And they don't look old, used or stolen. Doesn't seem to be a mark on them.
The rendezvous point with Mercer is near an old hotel that once serviced the starport. The hotel itself has been wrecked, but the multi-level parking garage next to it was remarkably unscathed and provides him a good vantage point where he could see both teams. As the teams are heading back (separately but not too far from one another), gunfire rings out behind them. Not actually at them... actually it sounds like it's maybe a block away to the east. And those with astute ears can pick out that it sounds more like rifle fire than the typical clatter of Centurion LMGs. Oh - wait, actually a few seconds later there's some LMG fire.
Crackity-crack. Erin, naturally, pauses. She whips her carbine around towards where the gunfire's coming, scope opened so she can sight the area and try and spot what's happening. But she only stops for a moment. Curtly, she gestures back towards to where the old hotel should be. Make the objective. Worry about the commotion later.
The gunfire is a kick in Kyle's ass. When it rings out, not too far away, she drops to her knee and slides behind the first available cover she can find: A short, brick wall. Shouldering in behind it, she whips her head around to her team and then lifts her rifle, like Erin, scanning with the sights in the direction of the commotion. Urged on by Erin, Kyle nods to Hayes and her heels crack, picking up from her position to begin the retreat.
Lyn hits the deck at the sound of gunfire, scrambling low for cover to turn and peer through her night vision scope. "I thought they said there were no friendlies in the area?" she hisses to Charlie. Spotting the other squad, she begins edging back towards the rendezvous.
Thank frak they're not going in the hotel itself. Charlie's had an issue with crumbling hotels before. The garage is probably better. She keeps up a few paces behind Lyn, jogging along from point to point, keeping her head low and her rifle at her shoulder. When the fire starts up, she skids to a stop at one knee, shoulder to a wall, and brings the gun up. Listening. When the Centurion weapons start up just a split second later, she scowls and tightens her jaw. There's a look over her shoulder towards Lyn: "There was mention of possible ragtag fighters, though." Once the other woman continues towards the rendezvous, she too starts the slow creep back herself; still watching in the direction the shots sounded from.
Indeed, there were no known friendlies in the area. But as they take cover, Lyn and Charlie can see that those reports were not entirely accurate. Military intel, go figure. Around the corner come a trio of rough-looking humans carrying rifles. One of them barely clears the corner before taking a burst to the back. He falls down in the street, unmoving. His two compatriots don't see the hidden colonial forces, but move into cover behind an abandoned car, rifles aimed back over the hood and trunk in the direction the badguys are (presumably) coming from.
See, unlike Charlie, Erin is fine in old, crumbling hotels. She's friends with everyone, including broken staircases. As she and Kyle have not seen or been intercepted by the rag-tag rebels, her team (presumably) continues on towards the old hotel, to meet up with Mercer, report, and then figure out whether to go back and help. If they have to.
One time is an incident, twice is a trend. Kyle peeks out at the incoming survivors; humans, just like her. She grits her teeth and tucks her shemagh scarf over her nose and turns with a sigh over her teeth and follows after Erin. Coldhearted? Who knows, but the recon marine has a backpack full of intel and for that, any potential rep she might get for leaving people in danger behind will just have to marinate.
Well frak. Lyn is not the sort that can stand by and watch people die when she could have done something about it. "You don't have to stay," she whispers to Charlie, then she's moving up to get a better position to cover the rebels from.
They're Piconese. Her people. If Lyn wasn't moving, Charlie was. Especially after one had been shot in the past. They're not supposed to engage with the enemy, but the enemy is already on the way; they'll be rounding the corner any second after the trio and who knows how many there are. Spectre takes after Ghost, trying to keep low and quiet so that she can help in covering the two that remain standing for whatever is coming after them.
Two Centurions come around the corner. There's a brief pause while they scan the street and lock onto the humans' position, and then they begin firing.
And that's when Lyn lets a burst of rifle fire fly. Hopefully the Picons will realize there are friendlies at their back, and not enemies.
Lyn helps one of the rebels shoot the ever-loving hades out of one of the Centurions. Her shots shred it's left arm and head, and she gives a small grunt of approval as the rebel's shots hit the machine's chest.
As soon as those Centurions appear, there's the crack of Charlie's rifle. Single fire, but a powerful one. She's racking up another almost immediately when the shot is glancing. "Good one," she mumbles to Lyn as the first Cylon goes down. So far, at least, the other humans look to be doing well.
The rebels prepare to make what they assume will be their last stand, barring divine intervention. But intervention is exactly what they get... they jump at first at the shooting from behind them. One starts to spin his rifle around, then realizes that the fire is going after the centurions. He's confused, but not about to look a gift horse in the mouth. They redouble their efforts firing as the Centurions pepper the road and the car. One of the Cylons goes down. Another comes around the corner too then.
Mercer rappels down from the roof in short order and hurries across the street to a building corner, peering around it with his rifle.
"Gunny." Erin is, of course, chill. Chilly, chill, chill. She has her rifle at the ready, when she forms up around another corner. "Shots fired." Beat. "We have the intel. Ready to go." Another beat. "Ghost and Spectre?" Because, y'know, unless Charlie and Lyn are in the fight --
Kyle kicks up the pace, faster, after Erin when the shooting gets closer. Wrapping around the corner, Kyle takes a knee behind the wall, shoulder nestling against Erin's leg, the low to her high. "That's them." Kyle mutters flatly to Gunny Mercer and Erin. "That crack's a sniper. Their pops sound different than Ghosts." Kyle adds to the report, glancing over to her field leader with a look on her face. "Neighborhood is busy as frak, Gunny."
Lyn ducks down behind the car she is using as cover as a Centurion fires at her and Charlie. Then she pops up and fires a burst back at it, slamming a round into its chest and watching it fall with help from Charlie's shots. But one of the Rebels goes down as well. "Frak!" she grunts. Then she's aiming for the last Centurion.
More gunfire rakes the car that the rebels are hiding behind. One of them takes another hit and falls, unconscious. The other panics and starts to make a break for it towards the newfound friendlies. Serpentine!
And there it is again. That sound of a sniper's rifle. That crack that echoes through the streets. Not the burst of rapid fire. Or the full auto of the LMGs. It sounds out over the rest, but then drowns in it. The Centurion goes down, but so does one of the rebels. Charlie swears under her breath, but doesn't break cover- not yet. Even if her muscles tense in preparation to do so. Even as bullets ricochet off the vehicle she and Lyn are behind. "We've got it," she mutters to the Aquarian before leaning out to line up another shot.
Mercer holds his position at the corner until his marines come to him, then continues to watch the street. Presuming (silly him) that the other two will be following. Upon reports that the other two are engaged, Mercer sighs. "Frakking frak. Any idea what their status is?"
Erin shakes her head. "Negative." She grunts. "Although, I'll bet it has something to do with all of that fire." Beat. "Objectives met, but at least one of us has to get back to the Vanguard." Not that this isn't already obvious.
Serpentine didn't work so well. The last rebel is gunned the frak down by the Centurion, who then begins advancing towards the car. Standing behind it, the robot turns its attention towards the other source of fire.
And there goes the last of the good guys. They may still be alive. Well probably not but they have to check. And to do that, they need to take out the last Centurion. "Cover me," Lyn barks to Charlie, as she begins moving towards the downed rebels while firing.
"Well, if they're still firing, they're still earning their pension." Kyle speaks low, creeping in a low crouch to poke one eye (and most of her helmet) out to take a look. "Starbase and Factory are crawling. Three civs, maybe less now. We're frakkin' compromised, Gunny." Kyle scoots further back behind cover, leaving the corner to Erin. "Tick tock."
"ARDA!" Oh, the others will probably hear that because Charlie? Charlie panics when Lyn leaves cover. "I can't suppressive fire with this thing," the woman follows up in a lower voice. But she leans out, lifting her rifle and taking a deep breath with a quiet prayer. She'll have to do her damned best, apparently.
"Shit." Mercer mumbles a few other choice phrases. He fixes Erin and Kyle with a look. "Head back to primary rendezvous. We'll draw their fire away. Any luck we'll meet you at the primary tomorrow morning. If not, you get your asses back to the beach and trigger the beacon. You copy?"
Lyn's shoulder swings back for a split second as one of the centurion's bullets graze her chest, but the rest scatter around her, hitting the car behind her instead. She brings her arm back around, levels her rifle, and fires a three shot burst, one shot of which plows right through the mechanical monstrosity's red eye. It goes down, and she's scrambling to check the rebels for pulses.
Erin nods curtly to Mercer. Her eyes suggests she's not happy about it, but -- there you go. "En route." And then, grumpy, she starts off towards the primary rendezvous point, far from where they are now. "C'mon, frak it all, Krima." Jog, jog, jog. Best to get out of the heat before the fire goes up.
"Bless you Athena," Charlie hisses under her breath, even though her shot went wide. She lets her rifle drop a bit as she pushes to her feet, moving rapidly towards where the two rebels fell and Lyn now checks on them. She keeps her gun to her shoulder, checking for signs of more cylons. "C'mon, Ghost," she mutters once she's near. "We gotta get to the rendezvous." Assuming that the men are likely, unfortunately, lost.
Mincemeat rebel is very obviously toast. But the second one by the car looks like he's just bleeding badly from the leg. He might have a chance. The other guy - they don't know. Can't reach him from where they're at.
He's unconscious too.
"Understood, Gunny; good luck." Kyle nods sharply to the man and looks to the path behind them, the path to the north and the rendezvous point. It's a long hump. "On your tail, E." Kyle quips after the woman and turns on her heel, kicking up gravel as she jogs with the woman, double-timing it out of the hot zone. "These bounce and leave orders are gettin' familiar."
Lyn drops her pack and fishes out the small medical supply box they all carry. She pulls her belt off and wraps it around the living rebel's lower leg as a tourniquet, and slaps a bandage over the wound. "This one's breathing," she whisper-hisses to Charlie. Then she tries to get the guy up on her shoulders in a fireman's carry, jerking her chin to her pack for Charlie to carry. She can't likely manage both.
"Yeah. Well -- " Erin looks around a corner, and then starts off down an alley. " -- you get used to it after a while, Krima. Luck of the draw, sometimes. Poor luck, others."
As they're tending to the injured Picon rebel, two more Centurions come around the corner further down the street (not from the same corner as the first three) and begin opening fire.
Kyle tucks her rifle in close to her chest. It sways as she jogs, pack heavy on her shoulders JUST LIKE BOOT CAMP! The CMC really does train you for real-life scenarios! "We'll talk about luck at the LZ." Kyle huffs to Erin as they disappear between two buildings and the tree coverage behind it. Leaving the zone, the two disappear from sight.
"Frak me. Alright... Try to wake him up first, at least?" Charlie is bending to pick up the pack when she hears the mechanics of the approaching centurions. She inhales sharply, dropping the straps and drawing up her rifle. "Get behind the car! I'll cover us!"
Lyn gets the tourniquet on, and manages to bring her rifle up in time to fire off a burst at one of the newly arriving centurions. Her armor gets shredded over her chest and abdomen, but she feels little in the way of damage done as she pulls the rebel back behind the car where Charlie and she had been taking cover.
Mercer is moving from cover to cover towards them but is not quite there yet.
Lyn shows how to actually serpentine as she drags the Picon rebel behind the car and to cover. She dodges like a champ out there and settles the guy down, getting her rifle back up over the trunk of the vehicle to return fire.
After kicking Lyn's pack up against the car, Charlie gets her shoulder to a section of metal; clear of the windows, or at least mostly so. She glances briefly to said guy, lips tight. Likely feeling pained for him and the death (or presumed, in the case of the third) of his compatriots. She shoulders her rifle and, when she has a split second of open air, leans around to fire on the approaching centurions. One shot is true and gets the cylon square through the electronics in its central chest plate, dropping it. "One down." The racks the rifle again, breathing and leaning around. With Lyn's help, this time, the other falls... She drops to sit behind the car, glancing over towards Lyn. "How is he?"
Clearly, these Centurions were defective off the line or something, because they can't seem to hit the broadside of a Lyn. The Sergeant's return fire slams into the Cylon's chest, and with Charlie sharpshooting, there as well, it goes down. "Gunny," she greets Mercer.
The rebel is alive, though still unconscious. Maybe he hit his head when he fell. Who knows. Mercer comes up on their position after all the shooting is done. He doesn't ask them what happened - now's not the time. "He alive? We need to move - draw their fire away from the primary."
"Gunny," Charlie greets in return, leaning for Lyn's pack once the Cylons are down. She looks out, trying to sight the third rebel. In case he is, perhaps, retrievable. "Yessir, but unconscious. We're ready to move."
"Breathing, just a leg shot. I got a tourniquet on him," Lyn notes to Mercer. "He's sleeping like a baby though. The other one out there is dead, couldn't get to the third to check." She finishes bandaging the guy and then works to try and get him across her shoulders.
"We'll head out that way then." Mercer declares. That way being toward the street littered with Centurion parts. Because if you're going to be a diversion, go all in man. On the way they check the other Picon body but alas, he's dead.
Hefting Lyn's bag, Charlie gets it over a shoulder. It takes some adjusting with her other gear, but she gets everything situated. Once comfortably in place, she settles in to tail the others out. "I'll watch our backs," she offers up, frowning at the bodies left behind. "Frak, only three of 'em... Gods know how long they've been out here."
Lyn hauls the rebel into a fireman's carry with a grunt. She may seem slight, but she has wiry strength to her. She moves with the others, being as quiet a she can manage. "Hoping since they were in deeper than we were, this guy might have more intel."
"Better frakking hope he's got something to make this shit-show worhwhile," Mercer grumbles as he leads the way off.