[center][u][b]Medbay[/b][/u][/center]
The pale blonde woman was facing the wall as they entered the medbay, and she jumped like she'd been given an electric shock when he'd announced their presence. Armas smile ruefully in apology as she just stared at them for a split second before hurrying over to take Bronson from him. Obviously she was just a bit unnerved by the rough weather and hadn't heard them come in over the noise of the ship- probably her first time at sea as well. Armas was opening his mouth to say something when she moved to take her place at Bronson's other side and looked at him, [b]"Well done, [i]helgus[/i]. Now leave us. I will tend to your friend, but I want you out of my way."[/b]

He nodded, a little confused as she moved to take the weight of the injured crewman. Bronson looked at him, clearly a little nervous at being treated by the strange woman, but he shrugged minutely. The UINC attracted all sorts of people to its ranks, and if she was here someone obviously thought she was qualified to be so. [b]"Aye ma'am"[/b] he said, taking a step back as Bronson put his considerable weight on the relatively slight woman. Armas darted forward as she seemed to buckle under the load, stopping short as she recovered and began easing her patient onto the cot. He gave Bronson an ecnouraging grin, he knew when he wasn't needed or wanted, so it was time for him to go. [b]"Thanks"[/b] He said, turning to go, but the woman was already rummaging in the cabinets for supplies and didn't seem to hear him. A grim looking man with a rifle next to him had come in behind them and taken up one of the chairs. He was currently attempting to stop the flow of blood from his chin with an old hankerchief. Armas gave him the same rueful grin and a nod as he continued past, neatly hopping over the lip of the medbay door as he continued into the hallway.

An open hatch a short way down the passage caught his eye and he went towards it, following the set of wet footprints that seemed to belong to the grizzled soldier in the medbay. Armas stuck his head into the forward cargo hold and swore lightly at the chaos. It didn't take a genius to figure out what happened - smashed crates at the base of the ladder, wet footprints leading to the injured soldier. Armas moved into the cargo hold to inspect the damage, swaying with the motion of the ship as it bucked. The top layer of crates was smashed, and he didn't have time to fix it. Luckily there didn't seem to be anything sensitive in them, so he just tightened the securing straps to hold it all in place as best he could. That should hold it all down and they could clean up the mess when they were out of the damned storm.

Suddenly the ship shook and lurched to one side with a terrific bang and the screeching of torn metal. Armas was thrown into the stack of crates and ended up sprawled on the deck, his ears ringing from the noise. He pulled himself up just in time to hear the Captain's announcement. [b]"Attention, all ye aboard. Now's the time to earn yer keep! Anyone who's not injured or tendin' a station, I want ye all up above decks. We've been hit by lightning, and there's a fire going on the lower deck. Get up there and put it out."[/b].

[b]"Fucking Plummet!"[/b] Armas swore, putting infinitely more feeling into it than before. He finished pulling himself to his feet, shaking his head to clear the residual ringing, and ran out of the cargo hold, tearing past the medbay.

[hr]

[center][u][b]Deck One[/b][/u][/center]
The sound had seemed to come from somewhere amidships, closer to the port side. Armas moved through the cramped passageways fast, hands out to brace himself against the walls as the ship continued to rock in the rough sea. He hoped it was only his imagination, but there certainly seemed to be more of a wallow to her movements than there had been before. It didn't take long to find the fire. Thick, acrid smoke snaked through the corridors, stinging his nose and throat. He could hear the roar of the flames now, over the sound of the rain and engine.

He arrived at the scene at a run, skidding to a halt on the rain slicked deckplate. He stared at the devastion for a brief second, the sight of the storm-wracked sky through the jagged whole in the ceiling both awe inspiring and terrifying. [b]"Sweet mothers on high..."[/b] he whispered, before snapping himself back into action. He wasn't sure what had been in that room before it had been turned into a bonfire - air pumps or storage maybe? - but it was certainly burning away merrily now.

Then Conway was there, bellowing orders and coordinating the chaos into something approximating order through sheer volume, profanity and force of will. Armas grabbed a hose from the storage locker and passed it to the Captain, ducking back down the corridor to help a crewman wrestle the other end into place. Around him others were doing similar things, finding the other hose attachments and water pumps scattered around the ship. Then the pumps activated, and the hoses bucked like living things as gallons of water went roaring down the corridor. [b]"Get the bloody bilge pumps up now!"[/b] Armas yelled over the din [b]"We take on much more water we'll be wallowing like a three legged cow!"[/b]. Two crewmen ran off to deal with that and Armas turned back towards the fire.

One of the hoses was in the hands of a young woman with short black hair, who seemed to be making a truly game effort to keep it under control, despite the difficulty. From a couple of drills, and the one unfortunate fire at the shipyards Armas knew how much of a kick the hoses packed. [b]"Good job! Hang on!"[/b] he called out as he moved up behind her, getting a hold of the hose and settling in to lend her his height and weight as she wrestled the hose back under control. He felt himself start to grin as they wrestled with the fire, the heat and smoked pushing against him like a living thing. [b]"Keep pouring it on!"[/b].