hexaflexagons | [Rescue AU]

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[Rescue AU]

North's facing off with his sister when he realizes it. South's not going to be persuaded to switch sides with him. And Wash—Wash has been left behind, helpless, disoriented, and without any clue what's transpiring as the ship goes down. North reluctantly leaves his sister behind and as the ship loses gravity he pushes himself off the walls, diving forward to get back to the medical ward, and finds himself tumbling downward as the ship goes down.

Gravity kicks in, and he quits floating, making a jarring landing outside the recovery ward door. "Wash?" he calls, entering the room with caution.

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He looks between the both of them while continuing to let York guide him along the hallway. Meanwhile he tries to commit some of this information to memory. Where people are, what's going on, what their plan is. Basically everything he feels he needs to know.

But... But it keeps happening. Nothing near as intense as the first time, but enough to shake him to his core; mini flash backs and images that don't make any sense.

'Don't make me hurt you.'

Wash stumbles and grits his teeth when the ship hits some kind of turbulence. That's when he remembers they're crash landing and immediately he feels like he's going to throw up again.

It seems the ship is creaking as it sinks further into the ground, one the hall slowly tilting backward, and North lowers his head as he leans into the walk uphill. "The shuttle bay is our best bet, I think." As long as the ship doesn't tilt any further. A grunt pops his head into the hallway from somewhere, and North raises his weapon. The figure disappears as quickly as it came and North rushes forward to see down that side hallway.

"Come on," he urges York and Wash. The soldier was gone and for all they knew their position was about to be compromised.

This is not something he'd counted on. Well. Escape? Yes! Crashing and dealing with the aftermath? No. Ideally you leave the ship before you crash it but, man, he's just gotta be contrary doesn't he? Not his best plan. At least Wash is alright. Ish. Better than he was post implantation. "Don't think we can be much faster-"

York does his best to get his shoulder under Wash'es and help him back up from that stumble. It's not easy for any of them right now. "You need a moment to breathe?"

"N-no... We need to keep moving." Wash urges on. Once he regains his footing he tries to walk on his own, but some of his weight is still shared between him and York. He reaches for his head again and takes a deep breath.

He hadn't noticed it before, but his hud was filled with warnings of his surroundings along with concerns of his own health. His heart, for instance, is just short of jumping from his chest. By now it's all he can hear; the blood pounding in his ears.

"Please, let's just... Just find a way out of here, and quick."

They draw up to the door of the shuttle bay and North scopes out the scene. "It's chaos in there. Shuttles are all slammed to one side. I think some people got crushed. No one's paying attention." It'll be like picking off ducks in that air rifle carnival game. North always won the biggest prize playing that game, even with their cheaty rifles.

"Not even Niner remembered to anchor her damn pelican? Wow. She really must have been in a hurry." If no one else did their shit right, Niner can be counted on to not fuck it all up. But if the Pelicans are a mess getting to one, a bitch. Getting it lined up to leave, a double bitch. Getting it to fly after being knocked around? Triple bitch. "Take point, clear a path?"

For the second time Wash feels his entire jaw snap shut like a bear trap, and he can already taste the acid in the back of his throat. He tries desperately to breathe through his nose until the sensation dies down and he can talk again without doubling over.

"That one... It's our best bet." He gestures to a pelican on the top of the pile. It's in the best condition as far as he can tell.

He pauses to take stock of people's locations. They show up as friendlies on his HUD. "All right," he says. "Going in. Sync." And he rushes through the doorway, blasting bullets with precision to remove any threats that stand in their way.

"Brace. We're going to sprint, kid, think you can manage?" If not he'll go slow and aim for cover. If he can run- that'll make it easier.

"Yeah, yeah. Let's go." He says to York, trying to stand more on his own so York doesn't have to carry him the entire way there.

Even though North seems to be fairing on his own with hostiles, Wash keeps an eye out for anything he should be careful of.

Hostiles is hardly the word for them. They go down easily and he darts for the one possibly usable Pelican. He slams the control to lower the ramp. There's another Pelican in the way, so it can't go down all the way, but North simply clambers over the side of the ramp and up, to run into the cockpit.

"We're clear." Or clear enough. Everyone else is busy dragging people out from under the mess from the crash. Getting up to the damn thing? Hard, but he helps Wash up and into the small space. "Come on kid, almost home free-"

Where they'll go after this...shit. He doesn't know. He didn't plan that far ahead.

He holds onto York for guidance, but continues to try and act more independently. He's almost angry at himself for slowing the two of them down, but every time he tries to match their speed he just feels sick and dizzy. It's beginning to piss him off.

By the time he climbs up and joins North he turns back towards the entrance where a group of five hostiles catches his eye. "Uh.. Guys?" He warns, ducking down a second later when they start firing at them. A few bullets narrowly miss his helmet. "Guys, I really think we should go now!"

"I hope you learned something about flying one of these while you and Tex were away," North calls to York, turning swiftly and lowering his weapon to pick off the hostiles.

"Strap in!" Not that it's easy with the ship at an angle but, hey, beggars and choosers and all that. He doesn't scramble for the front so much as slide into place, locking in and firing up the engines. He's watched Niner more than enough to get the gist of it, Delta helps with the rest. "Close that hatch, we're moving!"

So Wash was in a Pelican... In a ship about to crash. Oh boy, this was just fan-freaking-tastic. That's not even counting all the ramifications of hosting Epsilon for all of a minute. Today just wasn't his day.

He, not so gracefully, found himself a place in the pelican to sit and tether himself down for a second. Even though he was off of his feet he still felt horrible. His head was pounding in time with his heart, his stomach was out to sea, and every now and then his vision would play tricks on him.

The last thing he remembers is mumbling something like, 'Allison', before things just went black entirely. On the bright side, that meant he wasn't going to be conscious for whatever hell ensued on their way out.

When the ramp raised he put his gun back on his back and went over to check that Wash's crash bar was strapped down tight enough. Once he was assured of that he went into the cockpit and climbed into the gunner's seat. He'd had minimal training in operating it, as had all the Freelancers, but Carolina was the one who had logged the most hours using it. North tried to dredge its operations up out of the deep recesses of his memory, flipping the switch that turned on the radar.

"This Pelican's guns are only half loaded." It must not have received its maintenance after its last run. Sloppy, what the hell went on in this Project?

"Fuck. Okay. Hang on I think we can get out without wasting ammo-" He keys in the safest place he can think of that's not this damn ship and fires it up, locks it down, and starts the clumsy process of lifting off from a pile of other pelicans. It's not easy. There is jostling, and swearing. And more than a few 'i KNOW d's thrown in when trajectory needs to be altered or 'warning nose is not level'. As long as he's not hearing shit about being locked onto or the hull compromised, he doesn't care.

"Hang on to something-" They're up, they're free, and they're OUT right before it all crashes down. Barely. Jesus.

His expertise as a gunner, such as it is, turns out not to be needed. He straps himself in belatedly when he almost gets thrown out of his seat and watches the radar for anyone in pursuit. There's a small chance the ship itself could fire on them, but evidently the crash has thrown everyone too much for a loop for anyone to take the initiative on doing that.

"We clear?" He hopes they'er clear. They've got enough fuel for a short trip and he's scrambling to think of what to do when they land. He and Tex hadn't exactly planned this far ahead.

"Looks like it. Nothing on radar, anyway." What he can see out the windshield from here isn't inspiring a lot of optimism. White, white, as far as he could see. "York, tell me you can see anything but glacier somewhere."

"...there's a base a few miles away. We can refule there, stock up, make our next move." Maybe? Hopefully. Pretty sure, at least, that there should be SOMETHING there. It's one of the sim trooper setups so there's bound to be something.

"Good. I'm going to go check on Wash. Keep it level."

He goes back into the troop compartment and finds Wash still slumped over his crash bar. North pulls up Wash's vitals on his HUD—he's unconscious but okay. So North returns to the cockpit and climbs back into the gunner's seat. "Everything checks out okay. He's out like a light though. I'm going to keep an eye on his vitals."

"Can do." It shouldn't take that long to get where they're going- no one seems to be in pursuit. Clocking into autopilot and putting D in charge of watching everything gives him time to sit back and think about what he's just done.

Treason. He's just committed treason.

Fuck.

"Sounds good. If he's roughed up I can pop the healing unit over."

"I don't think he is, he's just...out."

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